#but there's no way to be that and not also be predatory and menacing and creepy

[see-arcane]

I might have pitied this deformed woman

With all due respect ACD why is everyone calling someone with a limp deformed... Also to be honest I would have felt more horror from the story if Gilroy found her attractive and/or charming and enjoyed her company and work relationship but also did not love her for whatever (non-physical) reason, because then there could have been a potential inner conflict and guilt, instead of ''this is out of my hands she is icky-looking and a crone (Gilroy you are 35) so I have no self-doubts about being in love involved on top of it all yay''. Having him vehemently dislike her all the time minus during hypnosis removes those layers.

It isn't 'everyone' in the story who calls her deformed, though. It's just Gilroy. No one else is mentioned deriding her for her disability or her looks or anything else beyond Penelosa's talent.

Considering ACD's comparatively progressive track record with the Sherlock Holmes stories--a series notable for how often it takes the side of oppressed parties, including abused or preyed-upon women--I can't see Gilroy's ageist and ableist views as anything but an intentional setup for the narrative payoff of his disgust as well as his anger and fear.

The story does feel slightly karmic at the start and, to give ACD the benefit of the doubt, I agree with you that having Penelosa not be an attractive hypno-dominatrix likely played a part in Gilroy's initial revulsion at her controlling him into playing paramour. I think this was intentional for the character's buildup, but also for the audience's. Even in the present day, there's no ignoring that there are demographics out there who are Highly Interested in the erotic implications of hypnosis. BDSM for the brain, puppet master kinks, et cetera.

If Miss Penelosa had been hot, or even just pretty, I wouldn't have been surprised if the horror story ACD was trying to put together would lose much of its punch in his era's audience. Sure, it's still icky that Gilroy's a man being Controlled By a Woman (!!!), but having her be attractive would 'soften' it for them. Still, all this is only in play if ACD was really truly adamant about selling the horror of 'A Stranger Now Owns My Free Will and Is Planning to Violate My Life in Intimate Ways.'

It could also have just been intended as an eerie scientific*** what-if adventure applied to a then-popular (and wildly overestimated) practice of the time. Or maybe he meant it as a straight-up supernatural escapade in the vein of vampiric mesmerism from a psychic monster. I don't know, I can't ask him.

All of that said, the horror is soured a bit by Gilroy being a haughty skeptic snob who had some comeuppance heading his way in the first place. Similar setups are common in horror flicks today, where we get to cheer at least once in a movie when the Big Villain takes down a more commonplace bad guy. There's no scare there, just vindication.

And me being me, that's not enough. Because I am all about two things.

One, adding more horror to everything, always, forever.

Two, making life harder for Jonathan Harker.

Jonathan 'Holiest Love means I Will Walk Backwards into Hell to Protect/Stay with My Wife Whether She's Mortal or a Literal Monster' Harker is not about to shit on anyone for a bad leg or some crow's feet.

More importantly, we've already seen his reaction to sexy sexy undead ladies trying to hypnotize him into compliance so they can take certain bloody/eternally conscripting liberties with him.

To judge by the 1000+ Dracula adaptations that show the directors' fetishes in full view, Jonathan being preyed on by the hot vampire Brides is seen by many people as...you know. Hot. Enough to rewrite and bastardize his character every time to make him seem like he was genuinely tempted by them.

But He Was Not.

He was being hypnotized into artificial attraction and paralysis so the ladies could take their turns with him without his fighting back or trying to run. Which he does later! More than once! Every time this voluptuous trio tries to hypnotize or corner him again, Jonathan catches on and sprints in the other direction. He is not into that shit no matter how pretty you are, ladies.

Specifically because, as I and Bramothy Stoker cannot stress enough, Jonathan Harker is strictly Minasexual. All Mina all the time. 24/7 Mina lockdown 365 days of the year. Mina, Mina, Mina. Mina? Mina. (I personally headcanon him as demisexual with shades of biromanticism and ace, but that's beside the point.)

The point is, even if Penelosa was a knockout, Jonathan wouldn't notice. He wouldn't care. Just as his love would not have been stopped by Mina turning into an actual monster; he would rather be damned and in love than slay her and be holy. You can bet your ass if Mina suddenly had a handicap he'd still be enraptured with her to the point of blasphemy. You know he's going to still be heart-eyed as they grow older. Jonathan Harker is made of unconditional and extremely focused love. It is all-encompassing and yet it belongs to a single person. It's the kind of love we all wish we had for ourselves.

It's the kind of love that someone like Penelosa--who latched onto a random handsome prick of a professor after she had known him LESS THAN AN HOUR and started plotting to groom him into her personal Ken doll--would do anything to have for herself; Jonathan Harker, the true Prince Charming, the gallant beloved, the guileless charmer who holds the One He Loves above himself, above God and Devil and the world itself...being wasted on some pretty young thing who hardly needs such a treasure.

It isn't fair. Mrs. Harker will never appreciate dear Jonathan like other, more deserving women would. Not like her. She would show him. Help him through the motions until he learned better; learned to love in the right direction.

Her direction.

Only if given the opportunity, of course.

(👁)

In short, yeah, Gilroy was not the best option for a sympathetic horror story protagonist who we could feel real fear and empathy for. We only really get a glimpse of that toward the end, when Penelosa escalates enough to start injuring innocents and tries to make Gilroy throw acid in his fiancée's face. A big scary leap, but also too late in the game for a proper punch. Especially with the abrupt copout of the ending. Bleh.

I think we can do better than that. Say, with a protagonist who can balance on the pro-and-con line of keeping the supernatural puppet master of their life happy enough to not act rashly, who knows the value of dancing on eggshells in a tight spot, who could tug the heartstrings of villain and audience just enough to let fuller and far more frightening machinations come to light as time goes by.

Especially with certain other powers lurking in the shadows, which might make a trifle like death a far less permanent end to their ~romance~ than it ought to be.

Don't you agree, Mr. Harker? ❤

P.S. Gilroy's still absolutely getting his ass handed to him in this take, don't you worry. He's been demoted from crush to chew toy to minion. RIP sir, but you're not off the hook just because Jonathan's distracting her with his dreaminess. Get to work.

[voerman]

subway eat fresh :3c

also asked by @arklay <333

wip title meme

so it's a little intro scene to my babiest vampire boy, my short king noah. he's had a long night and is catching the subway home and a human catches his eye and he gets a little snack >:3

My stop is almost at the end of the line, coming up but nowhere near close, a man is staring at me, a human… Is he trying to work out what I am? How cute. I flash him a smile I know has far too many teeth for anyone’s comfort, he blushes and ducks his head down. Pity. I could go for a snack. I continue to watch him, dialing my smile back from chilling to coy and when he glances up again, he doesn’t shy away. I wink at him. He blushes, delicious blood pooling in his cheeks and that’s all the invitation I need to approach. “Would you like to get a drink?” The man asks, and I grin again despite myself. How nice it is, after the evening I’ve had, to get such a willing victim. “Are you offering?” I sit beside him, trying not to flinch at the faint stickiness of the seat, I fucking hate sitting down on the subway. He almost flinches again but manages to reign himself in. He knows it’s too late now for fear, he may as well enjoy what I have to offer. And he will because I am a kind parasite. I’ve never hurt anyone through feeding. It’s easy if you focus; bite quickly to get the initial pain over with and suck slowly for minimal fang movement, which reduces tearing. The taste is nothing to write home about. I focus instead on counting his heartbeats carefully, and the second they begin to dip lower than resting I pull back. The man barely stifles a moan and slumps against me for a second. I arrange him back on the seat and as he regains consciousness, he gives me a weak smile. “Can I get your number?” He asks, and I can’t help but grin. What a bold little thing. “Sorry darling, I’m taken.”

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

“okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Protective (feat Goo)

G/N. Goo is a menace and Gun loves you.

"Who's that pretty thing?"

Goo cranes his neck, adjusts his glasses at who Gun had his arm around mere moments ago, and tries to take a closer look at you.

Gun refrains from snarling, knowing the reaction would only spur him on.

Using the act of taking a drag on his cigarette, Gun subtly moves closer to your body, shielding you from his partner's malicious gaze.

"Off limits," he replies, blowing smoke in Goo's face.

Gun knows he can be possessive, obsessive. 'Gets hooked on people' as Goo put it. However, he has never thought of himself as any sort of a guardian figure, preferring if people could hold their own in a fight.

Yet with you, he can't help the flare of protectiveness. The need to keep you safe. From dangers and wandering eyes and interest from over curious fools.

"Now now, no need to be like that." The blonde responds, wafting the smoke away with a cough and a sputter.

How intriguing that Gun is working so hard to hide you away. You must be a lot of fun. Simply precious.

Undeterred, Goo re-angles himself; directing his smile, stretched too wide and dripping with ulterior motives, past Gun's tense and defensive stance to you. Decides to go for charming instead of predatory, opens his mouth, prepared to sweep you off your feet and-

Gun steps completely into view, shifting in front of you so Goo has no choice but to stare at the black eyed demon and to face his wrath.

Gives his first and last warning, "Look for a second longer and it'll be your last breath."

"Ugh!" Goo pouts, visibility deflating at how serious Gun is. "You used to be a lot more fun," He mutters, then perks right back up without missing a beat, "Sweetheart, I can show you a much better time-"

The cigarette falls from Gun's grip and his hand snaps to Goo's arm, seconds away from weaselling its way around your shoulder.

Obsidian eyes flashing dangerously, "Don't you dare-"

With a sigh, Goo retreats and wriggles free. 

Takes a step back and holds both hands up in surrender. 

"Touchy." He tuts, throwing a dirty look at Gun.

"Nevermind," he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, "I have some secret friends to meet anyway. Let me know if you ever get bored of him, sweetheart."

Goo grins at you before striding off and you feel a shiver down your spine.

You felt like prey trapped between two monsters. No, that's unfair. One monster that looks like they want to devour you alive, and the other - Gun Park. Your Gun.

Who has tried to shield you from everything. From the rain to the unsavoury side of his life and now to his unhinged coworker. Who kisses you intensely and treats you like you're the only one, the only thing that matters.

Gun senses your discomfort, notices the tightness in your body language. He reaches for you, pulling you into his body and wrapping his arms around you.

His eyes bore into yours.

"Are you ok?" He asks, and you can feel his voice rumbling in his chest.

The tension had also crept up on Gun. With each word from Goo Kim, each moment his eyes were on you.

It's unnerving. He's not used to this. He never expected to care about anyone's wellbeing except his own but now he's in your orbit - you're all he cares about.

"M'good," you tell him, leaning into him and voice muffled, feeling safe in his embrace.

Gun exhales.

At your words, the unease finally starts to drain away.

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐝-𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: feyd-rautha was used to have whatever he wanted, it was well known, but so were you; what you desired, was already yours. and what you crave right now, is him. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!reader —word count: 1.5k —warnings: death, mentions of killing, blood, fighting (yk the usual feyd), just the reader and feyd-rautha being horny and a slut for each other.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

yes, i'm finally back!! dune part 2 has dragged me out of my cave and has given me inspiration like never before.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. Everyone knew it, perhaps the whole galaxy was aware of his very eccentric... preferences and appetites. He was well known for his immaculate and animalistic way of fighting, of destroying anyone who dared to present themselves as his enemy, of anyone who would dare to challenge him. But he was also honorable, proud and loyal to his beliefs, perhaps too self-confident for your own liking.

But every strong man had a weakness, a weakness that could bring them to their knees, to yield, to be left vulnerable. You were Feyd's weakness, rather, his strength, his fortitude, the fire in his veins, the beating of his heart. And it was quite strange and utterly unimaginable to think that someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen would have any feelings at all, there were those who firmly believed that he didn't even have a heart, not even a soul, that he was a demon in human form, a ruthless and bloodthirsty beast, the worst of the worst.

But there you were to prove otherwise.

It had been your idea to actually take him as a husband. Your parents disagreed, of course, for they thought you would be better off alone, after all, you were one of the strongest women alive, you didn't need any man or woman by your side. They called you the Golden Dragon, someone with too much power for this world, you had abilities that the world could not really understand yet, connections with the universe that could not even begin to be explained, the last descendant of one of the most ancient Houses, one that had vanished in time, detached from battles and senseless wars for power, a House that was recognized by that flag with the roaring and menacing red dragon on a golden field. That ancient beast that many thought extinct... until you came to Giedi Prime riding one. 

And you had arrived just on his coming of age day, where his favorite ceremony was battles, of course.

You watched him fight the Atreides men from your seat, your mother and father sitting at your sides, watching him as well, all in silence. Your eyes followed his every move, not even pausing for a second to watch the other poor men being annihilated, no, for your attention was solely on Feyd-Rautha, noting the predatory nature of his steps, his precise and powerful movements, eyes darkened with delight, eager for more death and blood. 

"He is a good warrior" Your father commented looking at him in awe as well.

"Too much so, I'd say" Your mother added in a naturally stern voice, distrustful dark eyes, observing the gory spectacle.

"He was born for it" Your father continued to comment, turning his head so he could look at you for a few seconds "For slaughter and death. Only to bring that."

"I think he's cute" you finally stated your opinion, voice low and serene, not even having the audacity to look at your parents, for you didn't have to look at them to know that they were both giving you horrified and scandalized looks now. 

Your father muttered your name in a warning tone of voice.

"He would look good in our home. He's built for fighting and protect, just like us." You explained, finally detaching your eyes from Feyd-Rautha, who had just killed the last Atreides standing, unleashing a wave of applause, praise and cheers from the audience. "Don't you think so, father?"

Your look was almost defiant, and yet composed, and your father took it as a challenge, but he would never be so foolish as to show any disagreement with you, for what the dragon princess desired, she had.

So, after sharing a short glance with your mother, he gave you a short nod of his head.

"I do."

And so it was settled.

Feyd-Rautha, for his own part, saw you and knew you were meant to be his.  He had heard of you, of course, his uncle used to insist that he must behave himself once your family arrived, for you were worthy of having the full respect of House Harkonnen, and that losing you as allies was not an option at all. So behave he did... or at least he tried to.

"I dreamed of you last night." 

Was the first thing he said to you, both found in one of the large, dark halls of his home, just a couple of hours after his victorious fight in the arena. The Baron and your father were in an important and pending meeting in which neither your presence nor Feyd's was required, because the whole focus of it was the two of you, and a possible marriage to ensure the alliance and heritage.

His eyes were barely distinguishable with the all the thick blackness surrounding him, his pupils dilated with desire, hands clasped behind his back, as inflexible as ever. He had put his all into making a good impression, his uncle had ordered him to, and Feyd was quite obedient when it came to the Baron's wishes. He was so loyal to that foul man that you thought it was something no better described than adorable. 

The thing was that, as powerful and menacing as he was, he was just another man, another pawn into this colossal game of power and thrones. And you felt rather pity for him.

"Na-baron." You greeted him somewhat pragmatically, turning fully towards him, golden eyes gleaming even amidst all the darkness through your gold mask. "It was a good dream, I hope."

"(Y/N) Pazuk, princess." He just took the satisfaction of deliciously savoring the name of your House, pronouncing it in that husky, deep voice of his. He also had the courage to move closer to you, rising from the wall and stepping cautiously, holding your gaze, looking down on you as if you were prey, a small helpless animal under his looming shadow. He then reflected, thinking about choosing the most suitable words... and the most appropriate ones "It was a very good dream."

You were in his territory, his planet, you knew it well and so did he, you were walking straight into the mouth of the hungry beast. Everything that was there belonged to him, he controlled it all and saw it all. 

And everything he was seeing now was you. And he was intrigued, captivated even. Because he usually encountered boring and vulgar people, people who were nowhere near his level, people who he liked to torture and make bleed to death. And the thing was, you happened to stand on his level, and even higher.

"Tell me more." You had the courage to order him in a soft tone of voice. He knew instantly that you were testing him, he was smart and knew how to read people well... but you, you were different, he could see it too, you were much more complex than other people. And he was delighted.

A hint of a phantom smile tugged at the corner of his lips just as he stood in front of you, posture rigid and dominant. "You showed me the way. The right way. The way of victory, the way of life."

You swallowed spit slowly and he noticed it, for his eyes descended to your throat for a few moments before rising again to your face, analyzing every expression that passed through your gaze, every gesture of your lips, every sign you allowed him to see.

Then he twisted his head slightly, face turning somewhat mischievous. "You think I'm scary, princess?"

Now it was his turn to test you.

He watched as your lips parted before responding, raising your voice with pure confidence, naturally, holding his dark gaze. "I think you're quite the opposite really, Feyd-Rautha."

He was silent for a few moments, long moments in which he simply gazed at you intently, with his full attention on you, on your body, almost as if he was looking at your pure soul.

"You are my destiny." He finally uttered, you could hear how his voice had wavered more for softness than harshness this time. "Show me the way, my princess."

You managed to feel the warmth of his body against yours. For someone so cold and distant, his body was hot and warm like fire.

"Are you going to ask for my hand?" You ask in a small voice, feeling suddenly intimidated by his closeness. There were very few who dared to stand so close to you, yet there he was, threatening your personal space. "Because here I am, na-Baron."

Before I could answer you anything, you spoke again, twisting your head slightly, barely narrowing your eyes. "You think I'm scary, my lord?"

He had never been so profoundly proud and thrilled by his title as he was at that moment, when you slowly modulated it with your tongue like a purr, your voice tastefully savoring it.

"I think you are beautiful." He immediately responded. "And I want you to be mine."

And so, fate had done it's work.

[violetsiren90]

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

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  "What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

    You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

    "Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

    The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair. 

    "Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes. 

    You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

    Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

    You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

    "Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

    He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

    "He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me." 

    At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath. 

    Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

    "Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

    "I told him...I said..."

    "What?"

    "Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

    You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

    "Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

    He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

    "Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

    You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

    "Is it?"

    You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him -  standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

    "Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

    He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

    "You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

    He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

    "...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

    "Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

    You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

    "Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?" 

    "When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

    But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom - 

    "When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

    A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open. 

    "Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

    You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

    "I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

    "Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

    So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.  

    "A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

    You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous.     Something simple maybe...a flower...?

    "Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

    "Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove." 

    You nod.

    "Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

    "Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

    "Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

    You scramble to find your voice.

    "Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

    He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

    "I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

    He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

    "See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

     He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

    "Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

    "No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

    "That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

    You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

    "You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

    "Make me."

[dhorrl]

Conquering No Nut November

Katsuki/Reader

Content/Trigger Warning: Um... edging, overstimulating, spanking, praise/degradation, a lot of cussing, some CNC vibes if you squint, maybe some more, you've been warned.

Katsuki had always prided himself on his self-control. He believed that he could conquer any challenge that came his way, whether it was in his training as a hero or in his personal life.

So when Eijiro and Denki suggested the infamous 'No Nut November' challenge, he scoffed at the idea. It was just another silly trend, and it couldn't be that hard.

The first few days were easy. Katsuki was used to pushing himself to the limit, and denying himself pleasure was just another challenge to conquer.

But as the days went by, he struggled more than he ever thought he would. It wasn't like he enjoyed denying himself pleasure, it was agonizing. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be reminders of what he couldn't have.

And you...you seemed to take great pleasure in teasing him. You would wear his oversized t-shirts or your Dynamight-themed pajama pants around the house, purposely brushing against him as you passed by. You would even crawl into bed with him at night, whispering dirty words in his ear and sending shivers down his spine.

Katsuki's leg bounced furiously as he anxiously watched the seconds tick by on his phone, his eyes darting between you and the clock. You were sound asleep next to him, unaware of the restless beast lying beside you.

As the clock struck midnight, Katsuki shook you awake with a sudden force, causing you to jolt up in shock. "What the hell, Katsuki? I have work tomorrow," you groaned, rubbing your bleary eyes. You noticed the predatory gleam in his eyes and laughed, a mistake you would later regret.

With a vicious grin, Katsuki leaned down and whispered in your ear, "I already called your boss and told him you won't be in tomorrow." Your eyes widened; you knew you were fucked right then and there.

Katsuki pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while using his body to hold you down. You could feel the weight and strength of his muscles as they pressed against yours, sending tingles through your body.

"You're gonna make up for every second I spent waiting for tonight, princess. And if you try to close those pretty thighs of yours, I swear I'll tie you up and make you regret for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Now, are you gonna be a good girl?" His scarlet eyes held a fierceness that left no room for argument.

The sudden change in Katsuki's demeanor startled you, but it also made your thighs clench. He had always been dominant and possessive, but this was on a whole other level. Your body couldn't deny its response as wetness pooled between your legs at his commanding presence.

With a shaky breath, you nodded in agreement. Katsuki chuckled darkly, pleased with your submission, before trailing kisses down your neck and toward your chest.

In a swift motion, he tore through your shirt and exposed your bare breasts, his pupils dilating as he took in every detail before lowering his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked greedily while his free hand massaged and pinched the other one. You gasped, arching your back to him. Katsuki gave a low growl of satisfaction before switching sides and lavishing the same attention onto the other breast.

While his tongue was at work, he moved his hand down between your legs. He shoved your panties to the side, his fingers teasing around your entrance before sliding inside of you without warning. Your back arched further as he started pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace.

"That's it, get yourself so fuckin' wet for me. Can't wait to bury my dick inside your sweet, dripping pussy," his sat back on his haunches, his eyes glued to your slick folds as they sucked in his thick fingers.

"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath as Katsuki worked his magic inside of you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release already. Katsuki usually loved this part, watching you fall apart under him, but instead, he pulled his fingers out of you and slid his black boxers off before positioning himself between your legs.

"Here's how this is gonna go. You don't get to come until I say so, no matter how much you beg," his was voice a husky whisper that was almost terrifying. "Every complaint, every tear, I'm just gonna make it harder for you. I'm going to edge you to fuckin' oblivion. And if you think the furniture's gonna survive the night, well, you're in for a rough surprise. Say it; tell me you understand."

He gave you a stern look before leaning down and capturing your lips again, pulling at it aggressively with his teeth. You nodded your head, and despite everything, you both knew this was what you had wanted all along, to push him over the edge into a frenzy. "I'm sorry, I'll be good... I promise I won't cum..."

With your promise hanging in the hair, he thrusts into you with a force that rattles the bed frame, the first of many blows to come, his hips moving against yours slowly at first but gradually picking up speed as he buries himself deep inside of you.

"Shit! Those fuckheads were right, this is gonna get intense as fuck." He pushes your thighs further apart, watching the way your cunt swallows his cock. "You're gonna get it as hard as you can handle, and then some."

He pulled back almost all the way, before slamming into you again and again, feeling the pressure building hard and fast; thirty days of starving for your touch had finally reaching its peak. His nails dug into the flesh of your hips, his whole body tensing as he shot hot ropes of cum inside you, his eyes going cross at the first of many releases.

"Look what you fuckin' do to me," he grunts, his hips never stopping their movements. "Making me cum like some fuckin' virgin."

You cried out under him, trying to hold back your own orgasm despite his relentless thrusts. But you couldn't resist as he pushed you to the edge, tears streaming down your face as you screamed and apologized. Your body betrayed you, tightening around him.

"I'm sorry, no. I'm sorry, I'm cumming... fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your orgasm washing over you despite his demand. Through it all, his eyes burned with a dangerous mix of emotions - rage, satisfaction, and possessiveness.

"You little—" Katsuki's growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he feels your inner walls contract around him. "I told you not to cum," he hisses, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Yet, he can't help the depraved satisfaction that courses through him at your disobedience. Your body's betrayal is his ultimate triumph. He doesn't relent, not even for a moment.

With a fierce grip, he pulls you up against him, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's more teeth and dominance than tenderness. He devours your moans, swallows your apologies, and when he finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your panting mouths.

Katsuki bares his teeth into a feral grin, one that is as equally scary as it is arousing. He flips you onto your stomach roughly, your face pressed into the mattress as he pulls your hips up, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, leaving a stinging imprint that quickly turns into a welt. You bite back a sob, knowing that the marks will be there for days.

"You gotta pay for it, princess," he swears, his voice dripping with a dark promise. "You're gonna be so fucked out, you won't even remember what it was like to not feel me inside you."

He thrusts back into you with a renewed hunger, his punishing rhythm designed to be your punishment. Each slam of his hips against your thick ass is a testament to his unyielding dominance.

"Are you sorry now, huh? Are you?" He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, ensuring you feel the weight of your mistake. His hands grip your hips to reminds you who's in control.

"You're gonna be begging me to let you cum again, and next time, you'll wait for my permission. We clear?" Katsuki's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure and pain, demanding your compliance even as he continues the onslaught that promises to leave you wrecked, raw, and utterly at his mercy.

"You're mine. All fucking mine."

His eyes are filled with fire as he watches you struggle beneath him, your body writhing in a delicious agony of guilty pleasure and frustration. Katsuki's grunts and groans fill the room, a symphony of raw desire that highlights every motion.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours mingled with the wet squelch of his cum mixed with your juices, is a carnal melody that speaks to the animalistic show. "Hear that, babe? Your pussy's so fuckin' greedy for me. It's been starved, and now its devouring me whole."

At least in this position, you thought, he wasn't hitting your now sensitive clit, the cluster of nerves pulsing and aching. Your pussy, however, clutches onto his cock, as if it didn't want to let him go.

"Don't fuckin' tighten up like that without permission," he hissed through his teeth. His hand finds your ass again, another sharp smack resonating through the room, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a heady cocktail that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

"You're gonna learn to follow orders," he breathes out, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he continues to batter into you. "You're gonna learn the hard way, and you're gonna fuckin' love every second of it."

He snakes a hand around to find your clit, his fingers teasing the swollen nub with a cruel gentleness. He circles it, applying just enough pressure to have you teetering on the edge again, purposefully making his orders nearly impossible.

"Feel that, ya' little shit? That's what you get for being such a tease," he sneers, his words cutting through the fog of your lust. "You're not cumming until I say. You can beg, but you're not getting it. Not yet."

You nearly lost it right there, bordering right on the ledge and gripping the sheets until your knuckles were white when you felt him pull out, flipping you around again and yanking you from the bed.

His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you up and pushed you against the dresser before sliding into you again. The dresser creaks under the assault, the wood splintering with each savage thrust. Katsuki is a force of nature, unstoppable and wild, his grip on your body unyielding as he drives you against the failing furniture.

Your back is pressed against the dresser's cool surface, the hardware digging into your skin like a searing brand. Katsuki's lips find your neck, shoulder, and any skin within reach as he marks you with his teeth and tongue.

With a final, brutal thrust, the dresser gives way, cracked beneath them in a racket of splintering wood. Unfazed, Katsuki easily supports you as he pushes you until your back is against the wall.

"You're doing good, real good," he grunted, his own restraint wavering as he felt the familiar coil of his own climax building within him again. "But remember, you don't get to come. I need to hear you beg for it like your fuckin' life depends on it."

As Katsuki's cock hits that perfect spot, you become a blabbering mess, unable to form coherent thoughts, your entire body tingling as you feel something hitting you, an orgasm like you've never had. Your eyes roll back in your skull, drool dripping down your chin, pleading with him.

"Please, please, Katsuki! I'm so sorry! Let me cum, please, baby. I'm sorry I was mean, but please let me cum," you plead, desperate for permission to let go.

"That's my good girl," he praises, a perverse tenderness lacing his voice even as he fucks into you, unrelenting. "You finally get it, don't you? This is where you belong, under me, taken, and thoroughly fucked."

His broad hands splay over your ass cheeks as he holds you, his arms barely straining under your weight. He feels your body tremble, he can taste the tension in the air.

"You wanna cum so bad, huh? You think you've earned it?" Katsuki taunts, his grip on you tightening as he feels you on the brink.

"Fine. Cum. But when you do, you better scream my name so loud, everyone in this fucking building hears you."

He delivers a few more punishing thrusts before you tip over, watching you unravel, your orgasm tearing through you with the force of a tempest. He joins you in release, his own orgasm roaring through him, a torrent of heat and possession as he marks you from the inside once more.

Even as the waves of your orgasm subside, Katsuki doesn't stop. His stamina is relentless, and he's already hardening inside you again, ready to continue the night's carnage.

He walks back to the bed, throws you across the edge, and slides back into your cunt, his grip unyielding as he continues to claim you, over and over, an endless cycle of pleasure and domination.

Your body trembles and writhes beneath him, your skin slick with a sheen of sweat as he fucks you. Your voice echoes off the walls as you beg for more, for him to take you harder and deeper. He grunts in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening, all his focused on the grip of your slick pussy on his cock.

"Fuck... pussy feels so goddamn good. Was made just for my dick."

The room smells of sex and sweat, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air. His cock is thick and slick inside of you, hitting all the right spots and sending waves of pleasure through your body. The bed creaks and groans under the pressure, but neither of you care.

As another wave of pleasure crashes over you, he pulls out and pumps his hand up and down his length, his hot cum spilling across your chest in thick spurts.

Breathless and sweaty, he gazed down at you with satisfaction as his cum dripped down your breasts. He leaned down to lick some of it off your skin before trailing kisses down your stomach. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured, his lips hovering over the heat between your legs. With a mischievous grin, he thrust his tongue out and began to lap at your sensitive clit.

"Katsuki! It's too much!" you moaned, but he growled against your flushed skin. He didn't care that you were overwhelmed and covered in his sweat and cum; it only made him want you more.

"I don't give a damn," he said huskily, "I love how you taste. It drives me crazy."

His nails leave red marks on your skin as he keeps you from squirming away, determined to make you come undone beneath him. And when he feels you start to tighten around him, he doubles his efforts, pulling your hips flush with his face and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue into your entrance.

"You wanted to come, so I'm making you come," he purred, his voice dripping with desire. "All over my face, babe, right fucking now!"

He buries his face deeper inside you, using every trick in his arsenal to bring you to the edge of bliss before finally pushing you over it with expert precision. You cry out his name as you come undone, your body shaking and heart racing as he works you like a finely tuned instrument.

Just as you start to come down from your high, he pulls away and looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, relishing in the sight of your glistening skin and glazed eyes.

"You ready for more, babe?" he asks, his tone deceptively gentle as he begins to position you again, his intentions anything but tender. "Cause I've got plenty left for you."

He showed no signs of slowing down as his hands and lips worship at the alter of your body. This was what it meant to be owned by Katsuki, to give yourself over completely to his every desire and whim.

And in this moment, that's exactly where you wanted to be. Completely and utterly his.

~~

Hours later, the room is a war zone of broken furniture and scattered clothes, proof of your untamed debaucheries. Katsuki lies beside you, his breathing slowly evening out as he comes down from the adrenaline high. The sheen of sweat on his muscular form glistens in the early morning sun, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion that threatens to pull him under.

You lie next to him, your hand reaching over to lace with his. Your body is slick and the scent of sex hangs heavy in the room. "Katsuki, babe... Not that I didn't enjoy every second of that, but don't ever do 'No Nut November' again. I don't think my birth control can stand up to the amount of cum you just loaded into me."

His chest rumbles with a low, raspy chuckle at your words, and he turns his head to look at you with a mixture of fondness and smugness. His blonde hair is mussed from your earlier activities, and the sheets are tangled around your bodies. "Yeah, no kidding. That was some next-level shit," he admits, a hint of pride laced within his exhaustion. "But it was worth every fuckin' second."

Katsuki slips out of bed, his naked form moving gracefully as he grabs a towel and a warm, wet washcloth. Despite the roughness of your earlier endeavors, his touch is gentle now as he wipes the sweat and remnants of your lovemaking from your skin with a tenderness that belies his usual demeanor.

He carefully presses the damp cloth to your flushed skin and cleans you up, making sure to get every inch of you. His touch lingers on your thighs, stomach, and breasts, gently tracing over the red and purple marks blooming across your skin. "You did good, princess. Took everything I dished out and then some," he says with affection in his voice. "You're fuckin' incredible, you know that?"

He leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before fetching a glass of water and bringing it to your mouth. His red eyes are attentive, watching you for any sign of discomfort or need.

"Drink up, princess," he coos as the cool liquid soothes your dry throat, "I know your ass needs it after that." His red eyes are fixed on you, making sure you're okay after such an intense session. "I love you," he whispers before pressing another kiss to your forehead and snuggling into bed with you.

"We're not doing that no-nut bullshit again. You're too much of a tease and I'm too much of a beast to hold back for that long," he smirks, pulling you close into his check. As your bodies lie entwined in the aftermath of carnal destruction, his chin rests gently atop your head and his love surrounds you like a protective cocoon.

[lichenes]

Nasty Dog

This one is for @kennedyabraxas123 :D They requested: "idk if u did this maybe like a cute little human doing cute things w a big scary monster and they know that they could kill tjem super easily but they still love them and everything despite the strength/size difference" and ofc I couldn't refuse<3 Nothing like good ol' size difference istg. The monster of choice is a werewolf. If we're going classic, we're going classic. I love running errands with people so I decided this would be a great prompt lol?? IDK I can re-write this if you want kennedy cuz this ain't my best work :3! HOPEFULLY there aren't that many incosistencies dude cuz-

CW: SIZE DIFFERENCE!!!, established relationship, vulnerabilty???, (petnames: little one, lovely), brief mentions of werewolf sex, other than that SFW

wc: 763

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Walking hand in hand with him you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were. Your eyes drifted to him as he scratched his chin. The beautiful fur he was sporting was radiating a pleasant, warm smell and the sun was hitting his form just right to make you fall in love all over again. For a moment you forgot where you were going.

The shop was a short distance away from your house and given the nice weather you decided to take the walk. The streets were bustling with people despite the sun almost setting. The produce you had to buy were too heavy for you to carry all by yourself so you decided to employ your boyfriend, who in addition to being freakishly strong also valued quality time spent together. 

He was usually a quiet person, never showing any strong emotions aside from occasional anger when something wasn’t going his way. Today wasn’t any different. His stoic face had his usual expression on, impassive and even, uninterested. You were talking to him as he nodded along humming occasionally to show his engagement. 

Despite his demeanour, he was enjoying his time with you. You were picking through the apples you planned to take home with you, looking for the perfect ones. You didn’t realise how menacing he looked, looming over your much shorter form. You, of course, understood people being scared of your boyfriend. He was almost 8’2” which made anyone pocket-sized to him. 

You walked along the dairy aisle while he was pushing the shopping cart along. “We should get the regular milk this time.” You said putting the carton into the cart. “You always drink oat though?” He spoke up, questioning you. “You need your protein to maintain your muscles, you know.” He nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not losing them any time soon, little one.” You walked to the next aisle. He continued. “After all, who will help you with your groceries if I become thin and frail?” He put his hand on the small of his back and leaned forward to simulate the hypothetical situation. You rolled your eyes playfully. Something ignited within you. A joke? From him? That was… unusual

You continued your shopping trip with a sweet treat for both of you that he paid for in the end. For a beast that had to chain himself up during the full moon he was a gentleman. 

Once during a full moon he broke out of the chains and scared the ever-loving shit out of you when he burst into your shared bedroom in his fully transformed form with a foaming snout and eyes so predatory you felt like a bunny being chased through the woods, only at his mercy. He didn’t have bloodlust on his mind this time though and after a moment of standing in the threshold he lunged towards you and ravaged you that night like a man starved. 

The next day he, of course, apologised for his behaviour and massaged all the areas that were sore. You mentioned once or twice that you’d love for him to break the chain once more but he categorically denied you access to him when the full moon was in the sky. He was so, so scared of breaking you because he knew how delicate human bodies were, not used to knots and all the other parts of being with a werewolf. 

Your mind came back from reminiscing and focused on the type of flour you had to purchase for your baking endeavours. “Why are you so distracted lovely?” He lowered his face to your ear as he didn’t want anyone to hear you. He knew exactly what had you so preoccupied. Your face got hotter for a moment but you regained your composure. “Cookies are best made with coarse-grained flour right?” You smiled innocently. 

The cashier looked horrified with the amount of items on the conveyor belt. You send them an apologetic look and began bagging your items. Just before you finished your boyfriend pulled out his card and pressed it onto the reader. You insisted on paying him back for at least half of your shared groceries but he refused to listen to you.

“Not only are you stubborn but also extremely helpful.” You said with faux exasperation as he took all of the bags into his hands. “Oh no! Whatever will I do now that you’ve upset me so badly?” You beamed. He warmed up to you enough to make jokes, a rarity for him.

“I might have a few ideas…”

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masterlist

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 3

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You lay frozen in bed, breaths shallow, the silence pressing in, turning your own apartment into something like a cage. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, indifferent. You stared at the ceiling, your phone still clutched in your hand from when you’d called in sick that morning, informing Captain Jenna that you would stay in Linkon until you felt better. Your usual weekly report would have to wait too.

The call had been brief, your voice cold and controlled, but brittle at the edges. “I’m not well,” you’d said. 

You hadn’t offered an explanation beyond that, and Captain Jenna, perceptive as she was, hadn’t pressed. “Take a few days, then. No one’s else can cover for you so the mission has to be paused until you’re better. Just… rest.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

Every corner of your apartment felt claustrophobic, the sharp lines and muted lights closing in, mocking you. The stillness, almost unbearable. The shadows cast by the dim lighting stretched too far, crowding the corners of the room, while outside the city pulsed with its usual dispassionate hum.

You’d killed a man - for him. Pulled the trigger, watched his body collapse in the darkness, the knife still inches from Sylus. The memory looped in your mind, every instant replaying in agonising detail. Your hand had moved on instinct, your shot trained with precision you couldn’t remember planning. The whole scene burned behind your eyes, refusing to fade.

And still, even as you felt the weight of guilt twist in your stomach, you couldn’t stop the darker thoughts clawing up through the silence. The way he looked that night, standing so close to danger, his strength an unbreakable presence. No one else could pull you into madness like he did.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: it wasn’t instinct. It was him.

That damned pinboard drew your eyes like a magnet. His face stared back at you from every angle: the piercing red eyes, the sharp, almost predatory jawline, the messy silver hair that looked too perfect in its disarray. And that body - muscular and powerful. A god of chaos and control wrapped in one dangerous package.

As the hours passed, you began to try and justify it to yourself. But no amount of rationalising could erase the truth: you’d killed for him. Your mind circled back to the moment, instinct gone wild, your gun trained on someone whose life ended at your hands, all for Sylus. 

You told yourself. If you hadn’t acted, he would have killed him. And Sylus… well the Hunter’s Association wanted him alive, didn't they? You tried to believe it - tried to tell yourself that saving him would count as part of the mission, that it was the right thing to do. But even as you repeated the word, you knew there was more to it.

The thought twisted in your mind, seeping into something darker. You’d killed someone for him. It had been quick, instinctual - your gun aimed and fired before you could think. And the traitor had collapsed in a heap, his life snuffed out in an instant. You hadn’t even thought about it at the time.

But now, in the silence of your apartment, the weight of what you’d done crashed down on you like a suffocating wave. You’d murdered someone. You, the hunter. The enforcer of justice. How could you justify that? How could you look at yourself and think it was acceptable, even for a second?

Your heart began to race, your breath growing shallow as the image of the dead man replayed in your mind. His body crumpling, the blood pooling beneath him. It was like a scar that wouldn’t fade, burned into the back of your eyelids whenever you closed them. What kind of person did that make you?

But you couldn’t sit with that thought for too long. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing thoughts and justified yourself.

No. You’d saved him. You would have done it for anyone, wouldn’t you? If anyone had been in Sylus’ position - if they’d been about to be stabbed in the back - you would have acted the same way. You would have saved anyone.

Liar.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you, but you pushed it down, suppressing it until it was nothing but a whisper. You had to believe it wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be.

But the truth gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, and you knew, deep down, that you were lying to yourself. You’d done it because it was him. Because the idea of Sylus being hurt - of him being vulnerable - made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t control.

You stared at his image on the pin board. Him walking in the N109 zone, him in business meetings, him in his office, him, him, Sylus. Each picture seemed to distort under your gaze, his eyes drawing you in, his presence - his power - taking up more space in your mind until nothing else mattered.

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to chase the thought away. He’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the more you tried to push it down, the more it bubbled to the surface, the more it consumed you.

You sighed, it was getting harder and harder to fight your feelings. You rubbed your hand over the crease in your brows, trying to soothe away the headache that had formed there. This time, it was clear that you were obsessed with him - every inch of him, it couldn’t be mistaken for young love and infatuation. Would it be so bad to just give into it?

The clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the slow passage of time, but you remained frozen, trapped in the tug-of-war between your obsession and your guilt. Just the thought of turning him in filled you with a visceral unease, a sick twist in your gut. How could you betray him? And yet, how could you justify not doing it?

You stabbed your fork into the cold dinner on your plate and forced yourself to look away from the pinboard, How could you betray him? How could you hand him over, not knowing what his fate would be? The idea filled you with dread, your stomach twisting at the thought. 

The truth settled like a weight in your chest. It wasn’t a decision you’d made in a moment - it had been building, creeping into your mind, just like your infatuation with him. You weren’t just following orders anymore. The mission had become something else, something darker and more twisted. 

You told yourself to let it go, that you would stop watching so closely. You wouldn’t interfere again. If Sylus got hurt - if he made a mistake - it would be on him.

But even as you made that vow, you felt the tug, dark and undeniable, pulling you under. The truth was as unyielding as it was terrifying: you’d fallen too deep, and there was no climbing out.

The second day of your sick leave dragged by in slow motion, every tick of the clock scraping against your already frayed nerves. Each passing minute felt heavier than the last, your apartment a quiet reminder of everything you couldn’t escape. Your usual clean standards were nowhere to be seen, the fork in your dinner from last night still resting on the plate you hadn’t bothered to clean, almost mocking you.

A soft buzz from your phone jolted you from your spiralling thoughts.

10:32: Tara: Hey! Miss you! How’s it going? Feel up to grabbing a coffee later? We can catch up! :)

Your thumb hovered over the reply button. A part of you baulked at the idea of stepping back into normalcy, as if facing Tara and pretending everything was fine would unravel the fragile grip you still had on yourself. But Tara was your friend, and she hadn’t pressed for any details when you called in sick. You owed her this.

10:47 Me: Sure, let’s meet at Café Preston in an hour?

10:48 Tara: Perfect! See you there! :D

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch before heading to get ready. 

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, mixing with the subtle crackle of a fireplace in the corner. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, giving the place a rustic, homely feel, and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cosy atmosphere. 

Tara waved excitedly from a table near the large window that overlooked the river outside. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the autumn trees, casting golden patterns onto the wooden floor. For a moment, you almost forgot how heavy the weight in your chest felt. Almost.

As you moved closer, the slight happiness you felt began to dissipate. Sitting across from Tara was Xavier. The air seemed to thicken in your lungs. You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you made your way over to them. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You didn’t dislike Xavier - he’d been your partner before this assignment - but his presence always carried a weight, one you weren’t prepared to shoulder right now. Especially not with the things you couldn’t say.

"Y/N!" Tara greeted, her voice bright and full of cheer. She jumped up to give you a quick hug before pulling you into a seat next to her. Tara beamed, her enthusiasm infectious as she pushed a cup of coffee toward you. “I thought you were dying or something. But then again, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” She winked, nudging you playfully. It was so typical of her—sweet, worry mixed with teasing, always trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed, though it felt a bit forced. "I guess I just needed some rest. I’m fine now." 

You avoided glancing at Xavier, focusing instead on the warm wooden table in front of you, the gentle flicker of a candle casting soft light across the surface. But he made his presence known anyway. “How have you been?” He asked. “Captain Jenna said you were sick, do you need to visit the doctor?”

You forced a smile, "I’m okay. I think I just needed a few days off. Some time to relax and recuperate."

Tara, always the bubbly one, didn’t waste any time. She immediately launched into talking about work, asking you if you’d managed to see anything interesting on your mission so far. She kept things light, but you knew her well enough to catch the undercurrent of concern in her voice. Xavier, on the other hand, sat quietly, giving you the occasional glance that made you shift in your seat.

Tara smirked. “You’ve been off the grid for a couple of weeks. There must be some big developments.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you knew better than to indulge it. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment.

“Nothing I can really talk about Tara, unfortunately all of those juicy details are confidential” you said, giving her a little bop on the nose with your finger and grinning at her.

Xavier, who had been quietly watching you with that ever-present air of concern, spoke up again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re looking…tired.”

Tired. If only he knew. But you brushed off the comment, giving a dismissive wave. “Good to know I look as good as I feel,” You joked, but you could see how he winced, like he knew that his comment was out of line. You took pity on him, “Just a lot of paperwork. The usual boring stuff.” You lied.

Tara pouted playfully. "Confidential, schmofidential. I just want to know one thing-" She leaned in closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Is Sylus as good looking as they say? Because if he is, I might have to request to take your place!"

For a split second, the café around you seemed to blur, and all you could see was Tara. The irrational surge of anger that welled up inside of you caught you off guard, your hand twitching as though ready to strike her. You could see it in your mind- her cheek reddening from the force of the slap. But then you blinked, and the image vanished. Your hand remained still on the table, and Tara was there, smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you. You shook your head, trying to dispel the irrational thought.

You forced a casual shrug, your voice steady even as your mind buzzed. “He’s fine, Tara. I think people just like to exaggerate for drama. Nothing special.” The words came easily, but your chest tightened with the effort of pretending.

“Oh please.” Tara waved you off with a laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Come on, Y/N. I’ve heard the rumours. The man’s practically a god in that zone. Dangerous, sure, but also… Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about.”

You bristled, letting out a laugh that sounded more strained than you intended. “I guess your informants are liars, Tara. He’s really not all that. Trust me, you’re not missing anything," you said, though your mind was already flooded with images of Sylus and his unfair good looks. She was actually missing a lot and you’d like to keep it that way.

But Tara wasn’t buying it. She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back in her chair. “You say that, but I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Your jaw clenched, “Let’s talk about something else,” you said sharply, and Tara, sensing the change in your mood, raised her hands in mock surrender.

The conversation shifted after that, with Tara steering it towards lighter topics - missions, work, and just catching up. You were grateful for it. You nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but your thoughts were miles away.

The café’s atmosphere continued to hum softly around you - quiet chatter from other patrons, the occasional clink of coffee cups and plates, the gentle rustling of leaves outside. It felt far too peaceful for what was happening inside your head.

Xavier, sitting across from you, seemed to be biding his time. Every once in a while, you caught him glancing your way, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was more like staring honestly. Eventually, Tara excused herself to grab another round of coffee, leaving you alone with Xavier. The comfortable hum of the café only served to heighten the awkward silence that stretched between you.

"So, Y/N," he began, voice low. "Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a long time. I missed you"

You shot him a glance, keeping your expression neutral. "I’m fine, Xav really.��� You reached across the table and patted his hand which caused a blush to break out across his face. You quickly retracted it. “Just tired, I promise." You sighed before saying “I missed you too,” It wasn’t a complete lie at least.

He paused, clearly debating something, before leaning forward slightly. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I’ve been meaning to ask…  I was wondering if you’d… want to grab dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Just us. I- I’ve liked you for a while and I would like to see if there’s a chance that we could move our relationship from friendship to something more ”

His rushed and inelegant confession hit like ice water, sending a cold jolt through your chest. You should have seen this coming - the quiet concern, the lingering glances - but your mind had been too preoccupied to notice. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across from him, pretending that your thoughts weren’t consumed by someone else. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t.

"I-" You hesitated, trying to find a kind way to turn him down. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. I’m… I’ve got a lot on my plate right now." You forced a smile trying to show him that you didn’t mean to upset him. 

His smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face. He nodded stiffly, his forced smile not reaching his eyes. 'Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.' The words were casual, but the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on both of you.

Just as the conversation threatened to fall into an even deeper awkwardness, Tara returned, oblivious to the tension between you and Xavier. She sat down with the coffees, flashing you both her usual bright smile. "Alright, let’s change the subject! No more mission talk. How about we discuss literally anything else?"

You smiled, but it felt like a mask - one Tara didn’t seem to notice, though Xavier might have. The warmth of the café felt alien compared to the storm inside you, a reminder of how far removed you were from this comfortable, ordinary world. How long could you keep pretending everything was normal?

The rustic charm of the café, the flickering candlelight, the soft jazz—everything felt jarringly out of sync with the churning inside of you. As if the world was moving on, oblivious, while you were sinking deeper into something you couldn’t explain or stop.

Sylus felt the absence of your usual shadow almost instantly. That persistent presence - always there, watching, hovering just at the edge of his awareness - had become almost... expected. For a hunter you sure were interesting. There was something about the way you moved, the way your gaze seemed to linger just a little too long, that had started to... interest him. 

He found the empty space you’d left behind strangely grating. He told himself it was only curiosity - a predator missing familiar prey. And yet, the thought of your absence itched at him, unsettling in ways he hadn’t expected. 

He found himself restless, a slow irritation building within him as he moved through his daily routine. Where were you?

“Boss, there’s been no sighting of the Miss Hunter for two days in the N109 zone,” Luke said, his voice breaking through the silence. The twins hung in the doorway of Sylus’ office, far too nervous to go inside. He’d been more volatile than usual with your sudden disappearance. “Shall we keep looking or…”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated your absence. For a moment, he considered simply letting it go. You were just another hunter, after all. But something about this situation gnawed at him. The last time he’d seen you, you’d killed a man to protect him and then seemingly horrified by your own actions, spiralled. He knew you were alive, of course, Mephisto’s only job recently was keeping track of you and relaying the footage to his master. But why had you abruptly left the N109 zone? Why had you abandoned your mission, him? It was puzzling.

“Keep watch,” Sylus murmured, his gaze sliding to the surveillance feed on the screen before him. He watched the live footage of your apartment with rapt attention, trying to figure out the mystery that was you. 

It was on the first evening that his attention became firmly fixed on you, his business meetings all but forgotten. There you were, sitting at your small dining table, a single plate of food untouched in front of you, your gaze fixed on something across the room. Sylus leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he followed the direction of your stare.

The pinboard. His face, his movements, his operations - everything you had gathered about him was pinned up in meticulous detail. But it wasn’t the board itself that drew Sylus’ attention. No, it was the way you stared at it, like you were seeing something more, something deeper than just the details of a mission. The way your fingers traced over one of his photographs, lingering on the lines of his jaw, the shape of his lips.

He watched as you lifted your glass, sipping at the wine while your eyes never left his picture.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

He’d watched as you paced back and forth, clearly torn between your loyalty to the Hunter’s Association and something else that gnawed at your mind. His lips quirked into a small smirk when you grew frustrated and stabbed your fork into your dinner, then abandoned it.

Watching you slump against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself as if you were holding back something darker, sent a strange thrill through him. There was a breaking point coming, and he found himself leaning closer, caught by the intensity of it.

He’d seen the same look in others before, but there was something about watching you go through it that tugged at him, a pull he couldn’t explain. He knew you were battling more than just the mission - there was something else, something darker simmering under the surface. It made his pulse race in anticipation.

You were strong though, that much was clear and Sylus could almost hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’d seemed to have made a decision of a kind, nodding firmly and then retiring to your bedroom.

By the next day, his irritation had settled into anticipation, curiosity pulling him back to the feed as if by instinct.

Things had been different. He watched you through Mephisto’s eyes as you met with your friends - Tara and that man, Xavier. Sylus was fine at first but the more he watched the more he grew to dislike the blonde boy sitting across from you. How he stared intently at you and acted like he knew you so well. Sylus mused to himself ‘if only Xavier knew what was really on your mind’. He grew to hate the way Xavier looked at you, that sense of familiarity. 

Eventually, it became all to clear that Xavier had feelings for you, the poor fool had an unsettlingly easy to read face. That, coupled with the way he got too close to you, pissed Sylus off. An unexpected possessiveness twisted low in his gut as he watched Xavier lean closer, speaking to you with a familiarity Sylus found grating. And when he saw that telltale smirk on Xavier’s face - the one that told him exactly what was coming - his fingers had drummed a rhythm of irritation against the desk.

Xavier had asked you on a solo dinner. Just the two of you? A date? 

The audacity. Sylus' teeth had clenched, anger pulsing just beneath the surface. How dare he? Xavier, with his hopeful smile and thinly-veiled intentions, dared to make a move on you. For a split second, Sylus’ mind wandered to thoughts of teaching Xavier a lesson - a harsh reminder of who was in control. Perhaps he could meet him in a dark alley, where no one would hear the crack of bones or the gasps of pain. Sylus pulled himself back, clearing his thoughts. No, that was irrational.

But still... when you turned Xavier down, a wave of satisfaction had rolled over him. Sylus’ lips had curled into a smirk as he watched the way you dismissed the offer with an air of indifference, your voice calm and uninterested. You had just rejected Xavier - but he wished that you had crushed any hope he had in a single breath instead. Still, he was almost proud of you in that moment. And yet, what pleased Sylus most was the flicker of something else in your eyes. It wasn’t just disinterest - it was disgust. You hadn’t wanted Xavier at all.

By the time the third evening had rolled around, Sylus had nearly decided to call off Mephisto's surveillance. You were no longer a threat, he reasoned. The intensity from your first day off had dulled, and you had seemingly returned to your usual routine. You’d seemed to have no intention of returning to the N109 zone. He was about to turn away from the feed, his fingers hovering over the button to recall Mephisto, when something unexpected caught his eye.

He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as the screen displayed a familiar sight - you, sitting in your apartment, your eyes locked on the TV. The candle light bathed your body in a warm glow and Sylus would admit that these were his favourite moments of the surveillance on you. The way you relaxed in your own home, wearing your everyday clothing or even better, like tonight, your pyjamas. Shorts that were so short he could see the way your ass hung out of them. A little silky strappy top that did nothing to hide your breasts, or the way your nipples pebbled in the night's chilly air. He felt his trousers grow tighter at the image of you.

But tonight, he noticed something different, something that sent a thrill through him - you were watching him. Not his movements, not his tactics, just him. The screen displayed an image he knew well - himself, seated at his desk from weeks ago, pouring over a pile of documents. The footage was mundane, unremarkable. Yet, you seemed transfixed, the look in your eyes more private than anything he’d seen before.

He leaned in closer to the screen as he watched, riveted, as your expression softened, your lips parting ever so slightly, gaze lingering on his image as though he were something more than prey to you. The realisation sent a surge of satisfaction through him. 

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand began to move, dragging down your body and toying with the waistband of your underwear.

His breath caught as he saw your hand drift to the hem of your shorts, fingers tracing idly, your gaze never leaving the screen. Interesting, he thought, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward. What began as an absent touch turned intentional, your hand slipping beneath the waistband, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping your parted lips. Sylus felt a spark of heat surge through him, more intense than he’d expected.

You shifted on the couch, shorts sliding lower, exposing the soft curve of your hips in the candlelight. He watched, captivated, as you gave yourself over to the moment, oblivious to the world beyond that screen. Your fingers teased along the edges of your underwear, movements delicate, almost tentative - until your resolve broke.

Heat flushed through him and his cock grew hard at the sight of you. Sylus' breath hitched, eyes darkening as he watched you succumb to your desires, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of the footage on screen. The way you were completely lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else, sent a thrill racing down his spine. You wanted him and that thought drove him crazy. 

He watched as your movements became more intense and then with a practised ease you pulled down your shorts. He could see the way your pussy glistened in the candle light. You were wet. Wet for him.

He could see your gasp as you played with your clit. It was mesmerising to see how you toyed with your own body, clearly well experienced with bringing yourself pleasure. 

Sylus used his Evol to close and lock his office door ensuring his and your privacy in this intimate moment. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way you bared yourself for him. 

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene, the heat in his own body mirroring yours. Without breaking his stare, he reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers, his breath steady but deep as he matched his movements to yours, never taking his eyes from the screen.

Your head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in an unguarded gasp. The candlelight traced over your exposed skin. His grip tightened, the intensity in his gaze growing sharper as he watched you, imagining your hands replaced by his own, feeling your skin, your heat, your desperation. 

Legs spread wide on the couch, your wet pussy was completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. Your fingers rubbing your clit torturously slowly. He groaned as he thumbed at the top of his cock, smearing his precum over the head and down the shaft to ease his strokes. 

His eyes had drifted closed for barely a moment before snapping open, irritated with himself. He didn’t want to miss a single detail, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that left him as exposed as you were. The sight that greeted him made him nearly lose control. Your fingers were stuffed inside your pussy, thrusting in and out as your thumb stayed firmly against your clit. You looked tight and he felt his dick twitch in his hand and groaned loudly. Your strappy top had fallen down, becoming almost useless and your breasts completely visible. God, you looked perfect for him, like a sin. 

He picked up the pace on his cock in time with the thrusting of your fingers, imagining it was him stuffing your pretty pussy with his cock instead. Fuck! Your face, your figure, your tits and of course that pussy. He desperately wanted a taste, you’d be sweet he just knew it. 

A low, primal sound escaped his throat as you pushed your fingers deeper, your thumb grazing along your skin with a rhythm that matched his own pace. He could nearly feel your movements, the way your body would tense beneath his touch. He matched each of your breaths, the controlled rhythm dissolving as his grip tightened, his eyes tracing the way your body arched. God he wished he could hear you. 

His cock was painfully ready for release but he held back, he wanted to cum at the same time as you. No, he needed to. To see the way your face would flush and your expression would shift. 

You were close, he could tell that much, your movements focused entirely on your pleasure, no longer teasing at all. You bit your lip hard and Sylus wished that he could take its place. That you would bite his lip so viciously. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers inside you and your thumb moving over your clit and that was it. You were cumming. Your hips moving uncontrollably and your pussy clenching around your fingers. You threw your head back and he wished he could hear the way you moans pounded. Maybe he would have to plant a bug in your apartment for next time.

 He fought to keep his composure as you came undone, your body arching, but the sight of you, looking so beautiful as you came, was his undoing. He moved faster, his hand tracing the length of himself as he watched you unravel, imagining the heat of your skin, the sound of your voice, and the feel of you clenching around him.

As you finally stilled, your breaths slowing, he let himself fall over the edge, his own release spilling over his hand. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat, a deep satisfaction flooding through him as he watched you sink back against the cushions, unaware of how intimately he’d shared this moment with you.

He looked at you on the screen and nearly lost his control at the sight of you sucking on your fingers. It was so unexpected and dangerously erotic. He watched as you stood up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom before cleaning himself up and stuffing him back into his trousers. The shirt would have to be dry cleaned. 

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, a dark resolve settling over him. This, he realised, was only the beginning. He would give you exactly what you wanted - and more. Even if you didn't know what that meant for yourself.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 3 is here! Please let me know what you think  ❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[librababe99]

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part Four|

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Jason Todd, GN!Reader, Descriptions of violence, physical assault, blood and injury, hurt no comfort Summary: Jason's world is one of violence and darkness, but you’ve always been his light—until a brutal attack leaves you broken, targeted by his enemies. Now, Jason spirals into a storm of rage and guilt. Word count: 3.4K

A/N: Hi loves!! I’m so sorry for the long wait in regard to this series---trust me I was getting antsy about not posting LOL---Also, life's gotten a bit hectic with grad school and to top it off some health concerns arose. Please send positive vibes my way <3 And finally, there will be ONE more part to Vigilante's Lullaby...right now I'm hoping to have that up by this weekend! As always...comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

| (Part one) | (Part Two) | (Part Three) | (Masterlist) | (Part Five)

The night had settled in thick, suffocating the underground clinic with its heavy silence. You had grown accustomed to this darkness, to the underbelly of Gotham, where your makeshift clinic had become a sanctuary for those the world forgot. The hum of fluorescent lights flickered above, casting uneven shadows on the walls as you worked. Your patient tonight was fidgety, eyes darting nervously toward the door every few minutes, as though he expected something terrible to happen.

You noticed the way his hands trembled slightly, how his breath came in quick, shallow bursts. "Hold still," you murmured, pressing a piece of gauze to the wound on his shoulder. He winced, though his gaze never left the door.

Something was wrong.

Your heart began to race, an instinctive warning creeping up your spine. You tried to push the fear down, to focus on your work. But the clinic felt too quiet, the air too thick. The patient glanced at you, guilt etched across his face, as though he knew something you didn’t. And then, before you could speak, the door to the clinic was kicked in with a deafening crash.

Your heart lurched in your chest, adrenaline spiking in an instant as the room filled with harsh voices, boots stomping across the floor like an army storming the gates. Men—big, armed, and menacing—flooded into the room, and at the front of them, a man you had seen only in Jason’s descriptions. One of his worst enemies. His rival.

Panic surged through you, your mind racing to Jason. They weren’t here for you. They were here for him. But Jason wasn’t there, and you were.

The leader of the group, a tall, scarred man with cruel eyes, glanced around the clinic with casual indifference, as though the place was beneath him. His gaze flicked over the supplies, the blood-stained bed where you worked, before finally settling on you. His smile was slow, predatory.

“Look at what we have here,” he drawled, his voice thick with malice. “Jason’s little pet.”

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. “You don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice betraying the tremor of fear.

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re just sending a message. You know how it is. Jason’s been a little... problematic lately. Time for him to learn there are consequences.”

The men closed in around you, their presence suffocating, their intent clear. There was no escape. You didn’t even have time to brace yourself before the first blow landed.

The attack was brutal.

Fists collided with your body, knocking the air from your lungs, the force sending you crashing to the ground. A boot followed, connecting with your ribs with a sickening crack. Pain radiated through you, blinding and intense, but they didn’t stop. They wanted to break you—break you so completely that the message would be clear when Jason found you.

You tried to fight back, tried to crawl away, but they were relentless. One of them grabbed you by the hair, yanking you to your feet only to throw you against the wall. Your head hit the surface with a nauseating thud, your vision swimming as the world tilted dangerously. Blood filled your mouth, the metallic taste flooding your senses as you gasped for breath.

The leader crouched down in front of you, his face a mask of sadistic satisfaction. “Tell him,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle in its cruelty. “Tell Jason that this is only the beginning.”

And then he was gone, leading his men out of the clinic as quickly as they had come. The door slammed behind them, the sound echoing in the now-empty room. You lay there, broken, blood pooling around you, your breaths shallow and labored. The pain was unbearable, your body a mass of throbbing agony. You knew you were fading, consciousness slipping from your grasp like water through your fingers.

But you held on.

You held on for Jason.

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

Jason arrived hours later. He had been gone on a mission, something he hadn’t told you much about, but you knew it was dangerous. He had promised you he’d be back, had kissed you hard before disappearing into the night like he always did.

But as he stepped through the door of the clinic, his heart stopped. The familiar scent of antiseptic and blood hit him first, but there was something more—something wrong. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes swept the room. And then he saw you.

You were crumpled on the floor, barely recognizable beneath the blood and bruises. The sight of you like that—broken, lifeless—was more than his mind could process. His world tilted, his stomach dropping as a scream tore from his throat, raw and primal. He ran to you, dropping to his knees beside your limp body, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch you, afraid you might shatter beneath his fingers.

“No...” His voice cracked, the word barely audible over the sound of his own frantic breathing. “No, no, no—”

He pressed his hands to your face, his fingers slick with your blood. Your eyes fluttered open, weak and barely there, but it was enough. You were alive. Barely, but alive. Jason’s heart twisted in his chest, the sight of your bloodied, broken form like a knife to his soul.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All he could do was hold you, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to fix this, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t fix this.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice desperate and hoarse. “Please, just stay with me. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry—this is my fault. This is all my fault.”

Tears burned his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn’t break. Not now. He had to save you. He had to save you.

But you were slipping away. He could see it in your eyes, in the way your breaths grew more shallow, more ragged. And it was killing him.

Jason felt something inside him snap. The guilt, the fear, the rage—it all surged through him like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. His vision blurred with red as he pressed your body closer to his chest, his teeth gritted in a mixture of pain and fury.

“They’ll pay for this,” he whispered, his voice cold and dark, like the promise of death. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill every last one of them.”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough to undo this, to take away the pain they had caused you. The weight of his failure crushed him, his heart breaking in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

You had warned him. You had told him this would happen. And now, because of him, because of his darkness, you were paying the price.

Jason rocked you gently in his arms, his grip tightening as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please don’t leave. I can’t do this without you. I need you.”

But he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t something you could come back from. Even if you survived, even if you made it through the night, the damage was done. And it was all because of him.

Jason’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms until they bled. The rage inside him burned hotter than ever before, threatening to consume him entirely. He had been so close to losing you, and now all he could think about was revenge. He would find them. He would make them suffer for what they had done to you.

But no matter how much blood he spilled, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had failed to protect you. That his love had been the very thing that had put you in harm’s way.

And as the night stretched on, as you lay in his arms, barely clinging to life, Jason felt himself slipping further into the abyss. The darkness had claimed him long ago, but now, it was pulling him down into something deeper, something darker.

And he didn’t know if he’d ever find his way out.

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

The night had bled into early morning, but for Jason, time had lost its meaning. It was all a blur now—a feverish haze of blood and vengeance. After carrying your battered body to the safest place he knew, ensuring the bare minimum of medical care, he had slipped back into the shadows, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his promise.

And that promise had been simple: he would make them pay.

Now, as he moved through Gotham’s underworld with a grim purpose, the memory of your broken form seared into his mind, fueling his every step. The streets were colder, darker, and crueler than they had ever been before. The city itself felt like it had turned against him, as if it, too, wanted to remind him of his failure.

The faces of those men swam before his vision, their laughter still ringing in his ears, mocking him. He saw the scarred leader’s face in the dark recesses of his mind—the sneer, the satisfaction in his eyes when he’d threatened you. Jason’s rage was a living thing, gnawing at his insides, screaming for release.

They would suffer. They would all suffer.

His first target was easy to find. A low-level thug, one of the cowards who had thrown the first punch, was holed up in a seedy bar on the outskirts of the city. Jason stalked him like a predator in the night, his body moving on instinct, driven by a singular, relentless purpose. When he finally cornered the man in the alley, there were no warnings, no preambles.

Jason moved like a ghost, silent and deadly, his fists connecting with the thug's face before he even had time to register his presence. The crack of bone echoed through the narrow alleyway as Jason’s knuckles met the man's jaw, sending him sprawling into the trash-strewn ground.

“Red Hood—no, no, wait—!”

The man’s plea was cut off as Jason dragged him up by the collar of his jacket, slamming him against the brick wall with enough force to make his skull bounce off the surface. Blood splattered across Jason’s armor, staining the emblem on his chest.

“Where are they?” Jason’s voice was low, deadly calm, but his eyes—his eyes burned with unrestrained fury.

The thug whimpered, clutching at Jason’s wrist with shaking hands. “I don’t know, man, I don’t know anything!”

Jason’s grip tightened, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. His other hand shot forward, slamming into the man’s abdomen, driving the breath from his lungs in a strangled gasp. “Wrong answer.”

He pulled the thug closer, his lips curling into a snarl. “You attacked her. You’re gonna tell me where the others are, or I’ll make sure you never breathe again.”

There was no hesitation in his threat. Jason’s eyes glinted with something cold, something feral. The man was terrified—Jason could see it, feel it in the way the man’s pulse quickened under his fingertips. But there was no mercy left in him. He didn’t care about their fear. All that mattered was making them suffer, making them pay for what they had done to you.

“Okay, okay!” the thug rasped, panic making his words stumble over each other. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk! They’re at the docks—the old warehouse by Pier 47. That’s where they’ve been hiding.”

Jason let him drop, watching with disgust as the man crumpled to the ground, coughing and clutching his ribs. For a brief moment, he considered finishing it—ending the thug’s miserable life right there. But no. The real target was the leader. The one who had smiled at your pain.

Without another word, Jason disappeared into the night, leaving the man gasping for air as his blood stained the alley.

The warehouse was exactly where the thug had said it would be—a decrepit old building at the edge of the docks, the faint sound of waves crashing against the pier, the only noise breaking the silence. Jason approached from the shadows, his every sense heightened, his heart pounding with the promise of vengeance.

Inside, he could hear the low murmur of voices. Laughter. It grated on his nerves, fueling the fire in his chest. His hand clenched around the grip of his gun, the metal cool against his skin. He hadn’t planned to kill all of them—but now that he was here, surrounded by the stench of betrayal, it seemed inevitable.

With a swift motion, he kicked in the door, his guns drawn before the men inside could react. Chaos erupted in an instant. The thugs scattered, reaching for their weapons, but Jason was faster, more precise. He fired off shot after shot, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Each bullet found its mark, dropping the men one by one before they had a chance to fight back.

But Jason wasn’t there for them. He was there for him.

The leader was in the back, smirking as though he’d expected this. His eyes gleamed with that same cruel satisfaction, as if Jason’s fury was all part of the game. “You came for them huh?” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Too bad. they weren't worth much after we were done."

Jason’s blood turned to ice.

Before the man could react, Jason was on him. He tackled him to the ground with the force of a hurricane, his fists slamming into the man’s face with brutal, unrelenting precision. Blood splattered across the floor, staining Jason’s gloves, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The rage inside him was too much, too consuming. Each punch felt like a release—a release of the guilt, the helplessness, the anguish that had been eating him alive since he found you.

The man beneath him choked on his own blood, his hands scrambling to defend himself, but it was futile. Jason was a storm of violence, every hit fueled by the image of you lying broken in his arms.

“You think this is a game?” Jason snarled, his voice a low, vicious growl. “You think you can touch them and walk away?”

His fists kept coming, each one landing with sickening force. The man’s face was unrecognizable now, a broken, bleeding mess, but still Jason didn’t stop. Not until the man was nothing more than a pile of blood and shattered bone beneath him.

But even as he stood, panting, blood dripping from his hands, there was no satisfaction. No sense of victory. Only emptiness.

Jason stared down at the corpse, his chest heaving with the weight of his rage. He had killed them. All of them. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You were still lying in that hospital bed, broken because of him.

As he walked away from the carnage, the darkness around him felt deeper, colder. There was no light left to chase. Not without you.

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

Jason stood at the edge of the docks, the wind whipping harshly against his bloodied face, cold and biting like the emptiness gnawing at his soul. The bodies of his enemies lay behind him, nothing more than a grim reminder of what he was capable of, of how deep his darkness ran. The waves crashed violently against the pier, matching the storm in his mind, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.

He had avenged you. He had done what he set out to do, torn through Gotham’s underbelly like a hurricane, leaving nothing but blood and broken bones in his wake. But here he stood, staring out at the endless expanse of the night, and all he could feel was the weight of his own failure, his own curse.

This is who you are.

The thought slithered through his mind, dark and insidious, clinging to him like the stench of death that hung in the air. He was a weapon—a blade forged in violence, tempered by vengeance. He’d tried to be more, tried to find something good in this wretched existence. He’d tried to find you.

But Gotham wouldn’t let him have that. His life wouldn’t let him have that. No matter how many times you’d held him, how many times you’d tried to be his salvation, he had always known it would end like this. With blood, with pain, with you hurt because of him. It was inevitable.

He had warned you. He had tried to push you away. But you stayed. You had loved him, and that was your downfall. Now you were paying the price.

And for what? What had he gained? Revenge? Satisfaction? No. All that was left was the bitter taste of regret and the sickening realization that it didn’t change anything. It didn’t heal you. It didn’t fix what was broken inside him. Nothing could.

He stared down at his hands, still trembling with adrenaline, his knuckles raw and split from the beating he'd given that bastard. They were the same hands that had held you, that had clung to you like a lifeline in the darkness. Now they were stained with the blood of men who had hurt you—but it didn’t matter. Their deaths couldn’t undo the damage.

Jason’s breath hitched, his throat tight as the memories of you lying in his arms, barely breathing, surged forward. The way your blood had soaked into his clothes. The way your eyes, usually so full of warmth, flickered with pain and fear. All because of him.

He was cursed.

He could feel it in his bones, in the marrow of who he was. He wasn’t meant to have happiness. Not with you. Not with anyone. The darkness would always come for him, always tear apart anything good that came into his life. It had destroyed him once, and it would do so again—piece by piece.

And now… now he was standing on the precipice of his hardest decision yet.

Jason clenched his jaw, staring out at the water, his mind spinning with the weight of it. He could go back to you, watch over you as you recovered, try to piece together whatever shattered remnants of your life he hadn’t yet destroyed. Or he could let you go. He could walk away. He could vanish into the night, leave you to heal without the poison of his presence lingering in your life. Because this—what had happened to you—would only happen again. It would never stop.

His heart screamed at him to stay, to fight for the slim chance that you could somehow survive his curse. But deep down, he knew the truth. You would never be safe with him. And the worst part was, he didn’t know if he could live with the knowledge that he would destroy you again.

The decision loomed before him, dark and final, like the city itself—a grim reminder that no matter what choice he made, he had already lost.

Jason turned his back to the warehouse, to the blood-soaked night that had claimed his enemies. His eyes burned as he looked toward the horizon, but the emptiness inside him remained. He had never truly escaped the shadows. He never would.

And now, as the cold wind howled around him, he realized this was only the beginning of his end.

The city would continue to take from him. It always had. There was no peace for someone like him. No future where the people he cared for didn’t bleed in his name. No future where he wasn’t haunted by the bodies left in his wake.

But you—you still had a chance.

He would make his choice soon. The hardest one he’d ever made.

But in his gut, Jason knew. He knew that whatever he decided, happiness wasn’t meant for him. The darkness had already claimed his soul, and it wouldn’t rest until there was nothing left.

With one last look at the city, Jason disappeared into the night, his decision lingering on the horizon like a storm waiting to descend.

And when it did, the person Jason Todd used to be would be lost forever.

taglist: @arisa191 @leo-lvr @azrielwingspan

[runariya]

Hey! A oneshot about junkook

Emojis: 🥸🥂🦢💎

Sentence: Under the starry sky, on a quiet rooftop, he gently pulls Y/N closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Dance with me?” he whispers. With the soft hum of distant music, they sway in sync, their eyes locked, saying everything without a word.

Is it too much to ask?

(yandere+party+dance+mafia) part of the prompt game pairing: mafia heir!Jungkook x f!reader genre: mafia!AU, idrk tbh... warnings: yandere-ish, psychological games, knife, murder word count: 1.475

a/n: First off, I'm deeply sorry for taking ages to get back to you...this ask has been sitting in my inbox for two weeks or so 🥺 and also, I'm sorry too that I turned your sentence into a whole scene; I just couldn't manage the themes any other way...I hope you're still enjoying it tho...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The city shines beneath you, raw and electric, its pulse resonating deep in the soles of your feet as you stand on the rooftop of Jungkook’s club—darkness unfurling in every direction like a ravenous beast that devours all that dares exist within its reach. Below you, the night roars with a dissonance of fragmented voices, music, and chaos, but up here, the world recedes into a distant rumble, a barely perceptible murmur as you breathe in the cool air under a starlit sky that stretches endlessly. There is a peculiar intimacy in this place, a stillness held together only by the rhythm of your own heartbeat, a world that feels exclusively yours and his.

And him—Jungkook—stands in the darkness, the faint amber glow of distant city lights slicing across his features, casting him into an aura more menacing than the whispered legends. They speak of him as a mafia heir, a heartbreaker, a killer—the very embodiment of temptation and danger. You have heard every tale, repeated them to yourself until the fear wrapped in desire became a sickening thrill. Now, he watches you, his black eyes smouldering under the muted light, filled with an inscrutable intensity that makes your skin crawl in ways both unsettling and exhilarating.

He is the one who chose this place for your meeting, away from the searing heat and relentless beat of his club—a sanctuary where bodies press together in abandon, where souls dissolve into music, each moment crafted for excess and oblivion. You recall earlier, being immersed in that turbulent whirlwind of sound and colour, every motion deliberate yet devoid of meaning. You observed him from across the room, a dark figure amid the frenzy, solitary despite the throngs eager for his attention.

But now, it is just the two of you. You feel his breath carried by the wind that coils around you, sense his gaze tracing your form with a predatory warmth concealed beneath his dangerously alluring charm. From the moment you met him, you recognised his peril—danger that insinuates itself into your veins before you realise, too late, the gravity of your mistake. Each encounter, each step forward has been a testament to a decision you should never have made but did anyways.

Your hands instinctively curl at your sides, the smooth edge of the knife pressed reassuringly against your thigh like a talisman since the day you learned about his obsession for you. The rooftop remains silent, you have played this game for so long, you’re not even sure how not let silence reign. Every glance, every word a strategic move in a game of masks and deceptions, with an ending that has always seemed inevitable.

“Dance with me?” he whispers, his voice low and seemingly tender, the sort of sound that could be mistaken for affection. But you know better. You understand the truth hidden beneath the softness, the destruction in every action and breath of Jungkook’s.

And so you nod, almost laughable how easily you surrender to this illusion of tenderness, letting him draw you close, his strong arms encircling your waist, his warmth and magnificent scent enveloping you. The rooftop feels smaller, the world compressed to the space between you as you begin to sway, a slow, gentle rhythm where neither of you leads. The stars blink down, your hearts the sole soundtrack to this moment.

His touch is deceptively mellow, his fingers grazing your back like a lover’s caress. You tilt your head up, locking gazes with him, and there’s something there—something that makes you reconsider everything you’re here for. His eyes are dark and fathomless, promising both violence and sweetness, and you briefly wonder what he truly sees when he looks at you.

For a moment, you let yourself dissolve into the intimacy, shedding the burden of your own deceit. There’s a part of you—a hidden, secret part—that has yearned for this, craved this proximity. It is almost twisted, how much you have longed for the danger he embodies, how you have relished the thrill of being so near to something so perilously lethal.

But soon enough, reality intrudes. The cold, harsh truth shaking your thoughts, reminding you why you are here and what you must do. You have followed him for months, shadowing his every move, orchestrating moments, manipulating events to draw close enough. And now you stand here, wrapped in his embrace, your body pressed against his, the perfect moment within grasp.

“Why do you trust me?” you ask softly, your voice dripping with naive sweetness. He smiles, but it’s a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a smile that conceals secrets you will never fully uncover.

“I don’t,” he replies simply, as if the answer were self-evident. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, just enough to remind you of the power he wields, the danger embedded in every movement of his. “But perhaps I like living on the edge.”

A silence stretches between you as you gaze in each other eyes, and you know this is the moment. Your hand moves almost instinctively, retrieving the blade from its concealed place at your side, the cool metal catching the light as you prepare to strike.

But Jungkook is quicker. His grip on you tightens abruptly, his hand darting up to seize your wrist with a vice-like strength he’s known for. The look in his eyes shifts, a flash of dark, knowing intent before his lips curl into a dangerous smile.

“So it’s you,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr that ought to terrify you, yet instead makes your heart flutter. “I’ve been wondering.”

Your head spins, adrenaline surging as you attempt to pull free, but his hold remains firm. You feel the expanse of his strength, the taut muscles flexing beneath his shirt, the effortless power he commands. Yet you suppress your fear, focusing on your purpose, remembering why you are here.

“You’re not as clever as you think,” you hiss, your voice sharper than intended, tinged with desperation. “I’ve been watching you, following you. I know everything.”

He laughs softly, a rich, chilling sound that courses through you as he leans forward to brush his lips against your temple. “Do you, though? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

For a fleeting moment, doubt creeps in, your resolve wavering in the face of his calm confidence. He is too composed, too collected, and it unnerves you. But then you remind yourself—this is merely another layer of his game, another manipulation. He seeks to destabilise you, you claim you like a possession, and finally to make you doubt yourself. But you refuse to let him.

With a sudden burst of effort, you wrench your wrist free, the blade pointed, ready, as you aim for his throat. But Jungkook is faster—always faster. His hand shoots up, seizing your arm with a force that sends a sharp pain through your limb, and before you can react, he twists the knife from your grasp, sending it clattering to the rooftop floor.

Breathless, heart pounding, you refuse to back down. You lunge at him, but he effortlessly restrains you, pulling you close once more. A smirk curls on his lips, dark satisfaction in his eyes, and it fuels your anger.

“You’re too reckless,” he murmurs, his voice a low, hot hum against your ear. “Too emotional.”

But you no longer listen. Your mind races, your body trembles with adrenaline, and you know this is your only chance. You must end this—now—before he ends you.

In a sudden, desperate move, you twist in his grasp, reaching for the knife on the ground. You feel the cool handle beneath your fingers and, in one distressed move, drive it upwards towards his chest.

Time seems to slow. You feel the resistance as the blade penetrates flesh, hear the sharp intake of breath as Jungkook’s body tenses. His eyes widen slightly, a fleeting surprise crossing his features before it morphs into something darker, almost… satisfied.

Then he is falling, his grip loosening as he collapses to the ground. You rise, standing over him, breathing heavily, staring down as the gravity of your actions begins to settle in.

Jungkook lies there, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes still fixed on yours. There is no fear, no anger—just an almost amused resignation.

“Guess you win,” he rasps, his voice barely a whisper. “But… was it worth it?”

You remain silent, unable to answer, because for the first time, you’re unsure.

The rooftop is quiet now, the city below still murmuring its distant song, but up here, everything feels still. The stars blink down, as indifferent as ever, and you finally realise that the danger, the thrill, the chase—it was never really about him. It was about you.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Edge of Control Chapter 1: A New Start

Summary:

25 year old Danny Fenton tries to live a normal life, he works at a rundown convenience store, all while suppressing his ghostly powers. But when a predatory customer constantly harasses his fellow coworker, something starts to crack.

Notes:

TW: Sexual Harassment & Assault Based on a prompt from @Regonold

Danny Fenton stood at the register of the cornerstore convenience shop, eyes scanning the dingy street outside. A pair of flickering fluorescent lights buzzed above him, casting a pale, sickly glow over the shelves lined with snacks, cigarettes, and cheap canned goods. The neon "Open" sign blinked weakly in the window, like it was struggling to stay awake.

It was well past midnight, and the streets were quiet. For now. In this neighborhood, the calm never lasted long, especially once the bars let out and the real characters started crawling from the shadows. But Danny didn’t mind the late hours. In fact, he liked the stillness—the normality of it all.

The bell above the door jingled, and Danny looked up to see Tracy walking in. She was wearing her usual oversized hoodie, hood up despite the warm night. She gave him a tired smile as she approached the counter.

"Hey, Danny," she greeted, dropping her bag behind the counter. "Quiet tonight?"

"Quiet for now," Danny replied, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But it's only a matter of time."

Tracy nodded, sliding in next to him at the register. She was only seventeen, a high schooler trying to save up some money before graduation, but she had that kind of wary, streetwise attitude that came from growing up around the wrong kind of people. She'd been working at the cornerstore for a couple of months, starting not long after Danny did, and though she didn’t say much about her life, Danny knew enough from the way she carried herself to understand she had her reasons for keeping her head down.

In some ways, she reminded him of himself. They were both just trying to survive, trying to blend in and stay under the radar. Except Danny had a lot more to hide than just a rough home life.

He hadn’t used his powers in weeks, which was a personal record. After years of ghost-fighting, he’d finally managed to escape Amity Park—escape the never-ending cycle of being a hero, being a target. Here, in this nameless city with its dirty streets and forgotten corners, he was just another face in the crowd.

It felt good. Normal. Like he could breathe.

"Anything weird happen earlier?" Tracy asked, flipping through the worn inventory clipboard, though Danny doubted she was actually paying attention to it.

"Just the usual," Danny shrugged. "That guy who always tries to steal candy bars came in. I scared him off."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Scared him off? Did you glare at him real hard or something?"

"Something like that," Danny said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't used any ghostly abilities, but a hard look and a bit of quiet menace were enough to keep most people at bay. He was good at blending in, but he was also good at not being messed with. A skill he'd perfected over the years.

Tracy chuckled, tossing the clipboard aside. "You’re like a bouncer in a convenience store. Bet they don't pay you enough for that."

"Not even close."

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence. Outside, the streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. Danny watched them with half an eye, his mind wandering. He liked the rhythm of the job. The simplicity. Sure, the neighborhood was rough, and the clientele could be unpredictable, but it was manageable. It was... human.

No ghosts. No paranormal disasters to deal with. No one trying to hunt him down. Just the mundane, gritty reality of a life that didn’t demand anything more than showing up and keeping the shelves stocked.

It was peaceful. For the first time in what felt like forever, Danny wasn’t running. He wasn’t fighting.

Of course, there were still slip-ups. A couple of weeks ago, he’d caught himself reflexively phasing through the stockroom door to grab something. Luckily, no one had seen him. And once or twice, when the lights flickered, he’d instinctively thought it was ghost-related, his heart hammering with that old adrenaline rush. But nothing ever came of it. No threats. No ghosts. Just faulty wiring in an old building.

“Hey, Danny,” Tracy said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was leaning against the counter now, looking a little more serious. “Why’d you take this job? You’re, like… way too old to be working here.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Too old?”

“You know what I mean. You don’t seem like someone who’d be stuck in this place. Most of the guys your age are off doing, I dunno, real jobs.”

For a moment, Danny wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d come here to disappear, to live a life no one questioned. But here was Tracy, questioning it. He could come up with a hundred lies, but somehow, he didn’t want to lie to her. She’d seen enough BS in her life already.

“I needed a change of pace,” Danny said eventually, keeping it vague. “Something... simple.”

Tracy nodded slowly, like she understood. She didn’t push him for more, which Danny appreciated. She had her own secrets, too.

The bell above the door jingled again, pulling their attention. A group of guys in their early twenties shuffled in, already drunk and rowdy. Danny tensed, his senses going on high alert. Tracy gave him a look, already clocking them as trouble. They were loud, obnoxious, and definitely not here for snacks.

"Great," Tracy muttered under her breath.

Danny straightened up, his easygoing demeanor shifting into something more watchful. His heart rate picked up, and a familiar, cold edge settled into his gut—the instinct that something bad was about to happen. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t use his powers, wouldn’t let his ghost side out. But there were times like these, when the predator in him stirred, that it was hard to keep that promise.

He just had to hope that tonight, he wouldn’t have to.

[kaythefloppa]

How would you rewrite The Lion Guard?

Ooh, good question.

Will pre-face this by saying that I enjoy The Lion Guard and am far more forgiving towards it than others (primarily because I was in the show's target demographic when it came out nearly 10 years ago, so I had a closer attachment to/attraction towards it than, people who were old enough to see the original film drop in theaters). That being said, it has a lot of flaws, some commonly pointed out by the fandom, others not so much (and around 70% of them stem around the finale, which.. we'll get to). So here are some major things I'd rewrite about the show itself (not like, every individual episode because that would be hell lmao)

Word vomit ahead because I have too many opinions on this children's show.

Season 1:

I'd definitely include more of Nala in the pilot episode, maybe showing her personal thoughts on the matter, perhaps even teaching Kion how to fight, or a throwaway line implying that. Also, I would definitely provide explanation on how Scar got away with killing his Lion Guard, and on why Kiara became so obsessed with becoming Queen. Additionally, I'd show some background lions (i.e. non-characters because we can't let them overshadow the mains), just so that we can actually buy Simba's point on there being other lions for the guard (but like, at the end of the day, we know Kion's team will prove themselves/be better). And lastly, I'd fix the climax to where Simba would try to rescue Kiara and then somehow get injured/stuck, so the Guard would have to save both of them from the stampede. I think those main things left a bad impression towards fans outside of the target demo, even as they got better on so, I think re-tooling them a bit would save a lot of that dissonance.

This was something I really wanted to see in the show as a kid; Episodes where the main characters meet "good" animals in the same species as their villains. Jasiri's introductory episode made me think they were going to have this as a recurring theme, where each member of the guard meets an animal who they initially judge for being the same species as their counterpart villain, only to realize that they're pretty great. For example, Beshte meeting a friendly crocodile (this was before S2) Bunga protecting a cobra (or alternatively, rescuing Ushari from the hyenas), Fuli meeting a jackal that's actually honest, or Ono even working together with a friendly vulture (that part specifically I fixated on, because I had this whole story in my head about the unnamed 'third vulture' in Mzingo's flock who goes through this whole character redemption arc, but I digress). This I believe would've fixed the issue that some people had about the portrayal of predatory animals in the series. Because yeah, on a Watsonian level, these villains are in every way amoral, the Lion Guard stops them from over-hunting, not hunting in general. On a Doylist level, the ratio of evil predators to good predators is way imbalanced, and I think this approach that 9 year old me thought this show would go, would've been a huge-lifesaver for the series in that department.

The Kupatana Celebration: The jackals would attempt to steal from the Pride Landers whilst they're all distracted, leading up to the Pride Landers fighting them. I'd also change some dialouge so that Kion and the Guard wouldn't come across as though they are right for hating jackals, and so that Janja wouldn't be proven right in his attempted murder of a child by the narrative.

The Trouble with Galagoes: Makucha and Mapigano would be streamlined into one character. Not only would it save a lot of time, money, and budget just using one model, but it would show the true menace Makucha is, because he was badly nerfed in the show when he became the new Big Bad.

Lions of the Outlands: I have so many mixed opinions on this episode. On one hand, the moral is actually pretty great, a perfect mirror to Never Judge a Hyena By Its Spots. And on that note, we see more of Jasiri and her clan. On the other hand, the Outsiders are in it, for no other reason than to both tie into TLK 2, and build up to the finale, (and they fail entirely on those two merits). The one thing I'd change is make it a two-parter in the middle of the season. The first part would explain the mystery behind the Outsiders, maybe even filling in some of the legit plot-holes the second movie had with them. The second part would be where the real action and conflict begins, with Kion choosing the hyenas over lions and blasting them away to the termite mounds (and I'd easily cut the "Our New Home" to "Our Old Home.)" Vitani would also have more of a presence in this episode, mainly so that it'll be less jarring when we see her again as the successor to the main cast.

And on another note, I would have Janja team up with Kion and Jasiri against Zira as a temporary alliance. It would just seem like an interesting idea. The point of the episode is Kion's views being turned on their head as he realizes that the lions he's meeting aren't as open-minded or kind as him. Having him come to the defense of his most hated rival, even temporarily, would've added to that juxtaposition, and maybe foreshadow his redemption.

I'd definitely rewrite Bunga to make his personality better. Don't get me wrong, it does get better in the show, but in early S1, they try too hard to recapture the magic of Timon and Pumbaa's comedy from the original. It'd be much better to allow him to serve as a comic relief on his own scale to allow a better first impression of him as one of the main characters.

Allow an introduction episode for Ushari. For someone who is supposed to be the hidden secondary antagonist of the series, he gets no introduction episode, and no revelance beyond just cameos and running gags; So unlike Makuu, you don't resonate with him enough to accept him as a key player later on down the line. There was an episode plotline involving a cobra harassing some songbirds that was never greenlit because it was inaccurate t o cobra behavior, but I think Artistic License aside, it would've made okay groundwork for Ushari to appear.

More non-lion characters. In a show where the overall message is "different animals can do just as well as, if not better than lions," and featuring the different animals that contribute to the Circle of Life, they did pretty well, but I would've loved them do more. Episodes with painted dogs, and the values of communication. Episodes with caracal cats where the heroes learn not to underestimate, episodes with that one African Rock Python that encourages boundaries, episodes with secratarybirds where you can stomp the shit out of grumpy bastards who want to kill children. Cool shit.

I'd tone down Kion's roar a lot. I don't mind it in a fantasy setting, but I think a lot of tension, conflicts, and character arcs are undermined by it. I would've preferred it if we had episodes in Season 1 where Kion slowly learns how to use the Roar's powers, akin to Elena of Avalor's Scepter of Light/Night story arcs. Tie that in with him speaking with Mufasa. The more he controls the power of the spirits, the more he is able to speak to them. In the meantime, I'd allow some villains' defeats to be accreddited to the characters themselves, for example, Cheezi and Chungu defeat Nne and Tano themselves, Anga, Ono, and Hadithi being able to chase off the vultures, or Hodari and Makuu both working together to drive off Kiburi.

I'd change the episode arrangement. Mainly to allow future seasons to actually start with the episodes that begin their respective seasons' arcs. The first 5 episodes of Season 2 would be placed near the end of Season 1 to establish a mini-arc about the dry season coming up soon, with the last of these 5 episodes being the Savannah Summit, showing Makuu's redemption and signifying that there's gonna be a change in tune. Then we'd get Trail to Udugu as the Season 1 finale, which would wrap up Kion and Kiara's sibling rivalry from the pilot and show Simba firsthand how well Kion's team is structured through its diversity. It would register as a perfect season finale without there being a heavy ongoing arc for it to cap off.

Season 2

The Rise of Scar would serve as the Season 2 premiere (which it originally was supposed to be, until it was pushed up 5 episodes). And while kicks off the best portion of the show, (S2) it does ultimately also cap itself off in the worst portion of the show (S3), so some stuff I would change:

Ushari's heel-face-turn. It sucks. Even ignoring the messy implications of having the only snake character become a generic bad guy because "evil venomous snake," it's bad character writing. Not only do we have no proper introduction to his character, not only was his prior relevance relegated to background appearances, but his motivation is extremely hollow, so much so that it's forgotten entirely by the time the episode is over and replaced with a new one (that also comes up out of nowhere and has fuck all to do with anything). More than once in future episodes is it implied that Ushari wants reptiles to rule the Pride Lands, and honestly, I think that would've/should've been his motivation for his betrayal. Maybe he sees how other reptiles struggle during the dry season and the Lion Guard is so pre-occupied with the other animals and disasters that he winds up feeling neglected and angry. This is what turns him to villainy.

I would have Mzingo in on the Scar ressurection plotline. One beef I have with S2 is that Mzingo, who was the duel antaognist of the pilot, gets sidelined entirely. Ushari essentially replaces him as the hyenas' spy, with several scenes clearly resembling that of the pilot (right down to the song, which is essentially diet Tonight we Strike). It wouldn't have done much to add Mzingo in, but it would've made sense, and allow for interesting interactions between Ushari and Mzingo.

Instead of Janja, it's Ushari who causes Kion to roar by revealing his betrayal and threatening his family. This does water down Janja a bit, but again, with the idea that he'll be redeemed in due time, you have to put some limit on how far his villainous actions go.

Rescue in the Outlands. Good. God. On its own, it's perfectly fine, but Season 3 manages to make it retroactively worse. If they wanted to give hints that Janja was redeemable, redeem him at all, and imply a ship-tease between him and Jasiri, they should've dialed back some of the shit he does to allow him come across as less iredeemable. The writers didn't have to have him try to incinerate Jasiri and the cubs, and they didn't have to have him openly mock them as they're about to explode, but because they did, it shoots his rushed redemption arc right in the bloody foot. The episode would've worked fine with some workaround.

The workaround I would have for that? Well, I would have it be where Janja chases Jasiri's clan out of the Outlands so they're forced to hide in the Pride Lands until the Lion Guard helps them take it back. We'd see that Janja is content with Jasiri making it out alive under the assumption that she wouldn't come back. Still technically evil, but not anything way over the line. This would also allow Simba and Nala to be introduced to Jasiri, overcoming their own prejudice and bias about hyenas like Kion did, which would make for a far more entertaining subplot than... ugh... Thurston. And in the end, Simba and Nala help Jasiri and the Lion Guard flush out Janja.

The Bite of Kenge: I would include Makuu, just for the awesome factor, and the biology reference: Because crocodiles and monitor lizards are mortal enemies due to how the latter preys on the hatchlings of the former. Makuu absolutely rocking Kenge's shit would be so awesome. And also we'd get Makini and Makuu sharing dialouge (which I swear to god, does not happen at all in the show, FUCK!)

The first half of Season 2 would have Ushari as a red-herring, with several attacks from Outlanders accreddited to him. It isn't until the midseason finale where the Guard discovers that Scar is alive and realizes that he's the real threat they need to take out.

Speaking of the midseason, I would cut out Sumu entirely. He's a cool character and all, but I find it hilarious how not once does Scar consider sending Ushari, a cobra, in to bite the enemy team. Especially since the species of scorpion that Sumu is happens to be non-lethal (whoops!). Anyways, I'd have it be where Ushari takes Sumu's role of poisoning the king, biting him on the tail. This would invoke fear into the other Pride Landers, who deem him to be the big threat to the Pride Lands (i.e. red herring). Ushari's betrayal would be a secondary conflict in the episode, as they still struggle with the idea that one of their own could turn on their home. Ultimately, Scar's return is revealed, and that Ushari's betrayal was in the means of bringing forward a worse threat to the Pride Lands, which sets the tone for the remainder of the season.

Speaking of which, I would keep Kenge in. According to the writers, he left the army off-screen to avoid getting blasted by Kion's Roar, which to me, seems like a clever way of saying "We couldn't get the royalties to re-hire our Game of Thrones guest-star onto our preschooler show as a series regular." But like, I think having him stay on the army would just add more man-power, because why introduce him if he's not gonna play a role in the final battle.

An episode where Scar attempts to contact Zira to be in his army, but the Guard thwards him. Again, just a minor change. Also, once again, we'd see Vitani, possibly her facing off against Kion, to further the idea that she strongly rivals Kion in ferocity, which sets up the finale in a more natural light.

The Hyena Resistance would show both Kion and Jasiri rescuing Janja. That way, his redemption would come across as less of him crushing on Jasiri and more of him having his worldview legitmately changed. Additionally, we would have Kion or Jasiri mention the true cause of Scar's death to Janja, who would deny it at first, listing it as lies.

Pride Landers Unite and Fire From the Sky are meshed into one plotline, so Anga is introduced earlier on. I find it stupid that even though Mzingo is clearly on Scar's side, they don't at all consider him a suspect for the fire sticks. Plus having all of the Outlanders face off against the Pride Landers would be more thematic this way. Additionally, I'd have more members on the team, such as Big Baboon, Thurston, and even some of the giraffes.

Much like with S1, I would change the episode ordering around a lot, mainly because I think some events and interactions do not make sense when viewed by airing order. For example, the Hyena Resistance builds up to the idea that Janja would redeem himself, and the skinks also report Janja's hesitation to Scar, but that apparently means nothing when Janja is working with Scar two episodes after this one. And I feel like Kion gathering forces to help him defeat Scar would be the inciting incident for the end of the final battle.

The order I would arrange S2b in: The Scorpion's Sting -> The Wisdom of Kongwe -> The Kilio Valley Fire -> Undercover Kinyonga -> The Zebra Mastermind -> The Underground Adventure -> Beshte and the Beast -> The Queen's Visit -> The Hyena Resistance -> Pride Landers Unite/Fire From the Sky -> Cave of Secrets -> The Fall of Mizimu Grove

The Fall of Mizimu Grove would serve as the Season 2 finale (as it serves as a climax of the ongoing conflict, but not in a way that ends it). We'd show Jasiri and her clan, Ushari and his skinks, as well as Anga and the birds taking part in the battle before Scar himself is revealed. Otherwise, the episode is mainly unchanged, and once again, the finale of the second season.

Season 3:

I posted a rewrite of S3 onto the Lion King subreddit, but in the context of a rewrite of the grand series, things go differently.

Battle for the Pride Lands would be expanded into a 6-episode story arc, in which the older characters make their final stand in the fight against Scar. I take issue with the fact that for years, they built up Scar as a force to be wreckoned with, dragged the arc into S3, only to end it entirely there. I've entertained the idea of the special being the finale to S2, but I think this approach also works, just to allow the audience to get settled in with the new 'norm' just as a way to fix some of the pacing and writing issues I found in what was otherwise, the best episode of the series.

In this 6-episode story arc, I would allow a redemption arc for Janja in the premiere episode, so that he could have more time to atone for his mistakes. Janja would redeem himself in the premiere after realizing the truth behind Scar's death and that Jasiri and Kion were telling the truth. Janja would immediately leave Scar's army and encounter Jasiri. "A New Way to Go" would be a duet between them. Eventually, let's say Scar traps Janja's clan and Kion's Guard in the lair, and as they're all swimming away, Kion gets stuck and Janja is able to rescue him from drowning. This allows a heart-to-heart between them which also extends to the rest of his clan, Jasiri's clan, and even some of the Pride Landers. The episode ends with Janja joining forces with the Pride Lands, giving them the info they need to beat Scar once and for all.

In the second episode of this arc, we focus on the Outlanders, specifically their reaction to having almost killed Janja. One other beef I have with the special is how the Outlanders besides Janja are all given a backseat, and are eventually just hand-woven redemptions and written off entirely. So my rewrite allows more character development at the end of their story arc. We'd see scenes with Mzingo, him feeling regretful over having almost killed his partner (either accidentally or purposefully). And we'd focus on Dogo and his siblings, who took a backseat in S2, but would now be older. We'd see what Dogo was up to in S2, maybe watching in fear as his parents and siblings would get into more dangerous situations. He'd be old enough to fight, but he's completely burnt out and disillusioned. Essentially we'd see him get the redemption arc he was robbed of. The episode would end with him leaving, and Kijana staying (to show the idea that some people can change, but others can't). The episode ends with Scar threatening the remainder of his army with death if they turned against him, which is what gets them to join his team, but internally, they know that Janja was right for turning on them. Meanwhile, Ushari is still as evil as ever.

Episode 3 of this arc would focus on Kion enlisting help from the other kingdoms; The Theluji Mountains and the Backlands, in order for the impending battle ahead. This would allow some old characters like Sokwe, the Gorilla Princes, Dhahabu, and Badilli to return, and we'd learn more about their history and origins. Meanwhile, we see Scar recruit Makucha on his army to replace Janja.

Episode 4 of this arc would follow through on the redemption arcs. Specifically involving a moral in which not everyone will forgive you, but that shouldn't stop you from trying to be a better person. I think this episode would involve Janja and Dogo helping Ma Tembo and the elephants and hippos take back Kilio Valley and Big Springs, which puts a huge dent in Scar's plans. Perhaps Zito and Johari are those who choose not to forgive Janja and Dogo, but Ma Tembo and Basi do. Plus Janja and Dogo would make a really funny duo.

Episode 5 delves into Scar's past. I think the biggest problem with the backstory in the show is that it is entirely tacked on and is only there for plot contrivance. An entire episode would've been more serviceable, especially with the direction they were headed with. I'd change the backstory entirely. Here, I'd have it be where a rouge lion clawed Scar, and then having the cobra spit at him before he roars them away. He is hailed as a hero throughout the Pride Lands, feeding into his ego until it becomes too big for him, so he plots to overthrow Mufasa. When they refuse, he teams up with the hyenas to get rid of them. He lures them into the Outlands where he roars at them, and the hyenas hide what's left. The hyena clan take the fall, and Scar is left off the hook, but powerless. This is what Scar decides to use as inspiration to defeat Kion once and for all. Meanwhile, Kion and the Lion Guard search through the paintings of Scar's past and see what the audience sees in the flashbacks. At the end, they discover a cave painting of Askari putting out a fire at the Tree of Life, which re-inforces their belief that the Roar can and will stop Scar.

Episode 6 is the big special that caps everything off. The Lion Guard take their battle with Scar into the Outlands. A large majority of the battle portion of the original special would take up this episode. We'd see everyone join in, including Kinyonga, Badilli, the baboons and zebras, we'd see Ushari, Kenge, and the skinks facing off against the reptiles, Simba and his lionesses fighting jackals, Timon and Pumbaa causing mayhem, it's this whole big fucking thing. Eventually the Lion Guard is able to defeat them, but Ushari and Makucha double back. Ushari bites Kion, but it's established that it's only a small dosage of venom that will affect his mind, then Makucha scratches him, giving him a scar.

The big thing I'd change here is that I'd actually have Kion roar at the volcano to make it erupt. Jasiri and Kiara help lead the Pridelanders and Outlanders away from the lava flow. This would allow a set-up for Jasiri eventually ruling the Outlanders, and establish future events of the second movie where Kiara is willing to unite opposing sides in order for a brighter future for all. Meanwhile, the Lion Guard find themselves trapped as the lava surrounds them. Scar taunts them in their final hour, but that is when Kion decides that instead of destroying his enemies for injuring him, he offers them forgiveness, using the Roar to summon the Lions of the Past to destroy Scar. Makucha runs off in anger, and we get the same moment of Ushari's death, which would give off the idea that whilst offering forgiveness is good, some people are too far gone.

I'd make the Mark of Evil more well-defined by stating that Kion will lose control of the Roar and act out more with the small amount of venom within him. Not the whole "you will forget the difference between right and wrong" bullshit. The journey to the Tree of Life begins.

I'd rewrite the villains: A lot. This post did a far better rewrite of the S3 villains than I ever could, especially keeping in the theme of each villain being a 'counterpart' of the main heroes, so I'll link ya there. But yeah, I would allow Makucha to remain the intense threat he is, and give the villains' squad more numbers. I'd also probably switch out Chuluun and Varya's species. A tiger would be absolutely terrifying as a villain, and Varya and her cubs being attacked would be a lot less stupid if she were a smaller cat. I'd also have Mama Binturong be paired against Ono, as they are both the "brains" of their respective teams. Maybe Ono is able to use his knowledge on porcupines/binturongs to guide Bunga over to the Tuliza stash, and Mama Binturong targets him. I would also objectively have Mpishi in the army, she was robbed of a re-appearance.

I'd probably change the animation and voice-direction on Azaad to look younger, because he strikes as way too old for Fuli. And I'd probably keep their dynamic platonic.

Friends to the End is rehauled entirely. The episode assassinated Bunga's character development, and was low-stakes overall in ways that just do the main characters a disservice. Have him actually be worried as to what would happen to Kion, have his friends disagree with him thinking he's wrong. Have Bunga be the one to challenge Kion when he mouths off at Beshte, and have the titular song actually be sung to Kion.

Change the Night Pride. The Tree of Life is meant to be a congregation of biodiversity, so it would only make sense that its protectors be a mixed group of animals and not just more bland-looking lions (Asiatic lion portrayal is appreciated, but I think this was the wrong way to go at it). Once again, saw someone else do a far better rewrite of this, with the royal family as tigers, and with Nirmala and Surak as a dhole and buffalo, respectively.

I'd change Rani's character. A LOT. I think part of the reason why Rani has become such a divisive and controversial character in the fandom is because of her lack of accountability. She doesn't apologize to Kion and the Guard for her part in the misunderstanding, she doesn't apologize them for accusing them of leading Makucha and co. there, and even when Kion and Rani have seemingly come eye-to-eye in Long Live the Queen, the next episode continues to have Rani talk down to Kion, saying he has "potential" and not apologizing. I like when characters have flaws, but it's not satisfying when they don't acknowledge those flaws, apologize, and grow. Having Rani and Baliyo apologize towards the Guard, like say, at the end of Little Old Ginterbong, and gradually learning from their impulsive mistakes would be good character development, and it would allow audiences to get more used to Rani.

More episodes at the Tree of Life. One big issue with the show's ending is that it up and puts so much limelight on the Tree of Life in the finale when it's only been present for over 9 episodes. That's not enough time to get us to care, especially if your main character(s) will be moving in there by the finale. We should've had more episodes at the tree to learn about its history, how it's structured as a kingdom, the biodiversity there. Maybe even tie in with the other hanging threads of lore such as the Evil Lions of the Past, Askari's connection to the Tree of Life, his discovery of the Roar of the Elders, and the prophecy on the Roar returning to the Tree of Life. One of the writers themselves even said that they had a vision for the Night Pride's backstory including the disappearance of Rani and Baliyo's parents and the origin of Rani's scar, that, because of the limited episodes they had planned for the final season never actually made it into the series. If Season 2 can have nearly 30 episodes, then Season 3 can come close to that mark, especially when it's the end of the story and you need to put your all into it.

I would change Binga into a sloth-bear. This is actually a key detail of canon divergence in my fanfic, Roar Towards the Future, but to re-iterate, I HATE canon Binga with a passion. Lazy, unoriginal, and reeks of a lot of tired, worn out tropes from the 2000's. And yeah, it's an interspecies relationship, but in a world where the animals can talk sing, and communicate with each other, would it have hurt to change the species at least? Also, we get an Ono solo song because we were fucking robbed.

I'd change the specifics of Kion's healing, where he is cured of the venom, but still is unable to control the Roar, so Nirmala continues the healing, to which Kion realizes is not physical anymore, it's emotional, and that him mastering the Roar represents him finally having both his body and mind at peace. I really didn't like how S3a built up the venom to be Kion's problem that he needed fixing, only for S3b to say, "nope, it's just trauma," and have his healing focus around that. It's a good idea on paper, especially if you view the venom as a metaphor, but in reality, the way it's executed just gives off the idea that mental/physical health issues are one in the same thing in a box, and that treating one will inherently and unoequivically treat the other, which uhm... is a terrible message to have in a kids' show. They should've not brought up the venom at all and have that be the message from the start, or resolve the venom plot-line and point out how that's not where the healing journey ends, because the end-result makes it seem like the writers just forced the venom in there as an excuse to write Kion out of the Pride Lands in time for TLK 2, with no thought forbeyond plot contrivance.

I'd have the Lion Guard age from teenagers to young adults in S3, starting with the episode Long Live the Queen, to give off the idea that the Guard has stayed at the Tree of Life for a while to the point where defending it from the villains/Kion's healing has become the new norm. According to the writers, they wanted them to remain teenagers until the end, as a contrast to Kiara being an adult, but I think that shoots their story in the foot when it's somewhat a coming of age story, as well as the marriage thing in the finale, so I would personally have them shown to be grown up starting in the episode of Janna's death. I'd also have the origin of Rani's scar be explained. And I'd also establish closure for Sarabi by having Kion say he never met any of his grandparents. I think Sarabi deserved at least some closure in the series.

The Lake of Reflection flashback confuses me so much, because like, Janja is a teen, presumably an older teen when Kion is a cub, I highly doubt he'd be this tiny ass cub when Kion was a toddler. I would just have the flashback include everyone's S1 models pre-Return of the Roar.

I would probably have the final battle at the Tree of Life be a mirror to Pride Landers Unite, where the animals of the Tree of Life help the Lion Guard and Night Pride defeat Makucha and his gang. I'd also have the Rani/Kion romance be a separate episode on its own, which would then end with the cliffhanger of Kion being asked to stay.

Oh boy, the finale. Basically, the main thing I'd change is that it'd be an extended episode, possibly a double-length episode, or even triple-length like the Elena of Avalor finale, just to wrap everything up. Vitani's Guard is made of a mixture of different species on the Lion Guard. You can even keep the all female aspect, just have them be different animals than lions. You'd expand more on the TLK 2 callbacks (i.e. mentioning Nuka, suckers!), wrap up more character arcs, have Vitani and her team actually earn her moment (like say, defeating a new enemy, or maybe Makucha's army comes back and Vitani saves the day). I'd cut the entire bullshit contest, it is so stupid. And by the end, Kion chooses to give up the Roar and stay at the Tree of Life with Rani, BUT the rest of his friends stay at the Pride Lands, (including Makini, because she deserved to stay). The ending isn't focused around Kion and Rani's teenage wedding (because for one, they wouldn't be teens) but it would focus on the animals of the Pride Lands and Tree of Life commemorating Kion's former Lion Guard for all of their years of defending the Circle of Life, ending on a reworked version of "Here Comes the Lion Guard" from the soundtrack.

And lastly, (this is just wish-bait). An epilouge scene showing a reunion between Kion's former Guard in the Pride Lands, depicting the new lives they lead years into the future. As the sun begins to rise, they all head to Pride Rock just in time for a royal celebration; The presentation of Queen Kiara's second-born cub, who will lead the Lion Guard of the next generation. Roll the credits!

[savannahsdeath]

DEALER!ELLIE X READER

♯ten dollars worth

mdni please<3

summary: you met ellie in quite unusual circumstances, so she offers you a free joint to calm down, thats totally not from her personal stash

warnings: 18+!! weed, alcohol, assault, catcalling ? a little of blood / wound, bad writing

writers note: this is really old and bad like seriously . also im left on delivered really not cool😓💔

You never were a fan of walking home after sunset. You had to follow your intuition because in the dim light of moon you could barely see where you are.

Eventually, after a few months of stress, something had to happen. And here you were, surrounded by a few boys your age. You had a few shots - you weren't drunk, but definitely not... completely aware of what's happening. You decided it's an excellent idea to talk back.

They exchanged glances as you challenged them, as if communicating telepathically. You could feel something shift in the air, tension rising, despite their lack of visible anger. What exactly you said to provoke them, you couldn't remember.

Suddenly, in a flash of movement, one of them grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face them. Your vision was blurred as everything happened too fast. He pressed a cold object against your forehead. The other boys smiled.

"What do you think it is?" He asked calmly, as you struggled to focus your eyes.

In your state of mild intoxication, your vision and balance began to fail you. You closed your eyes tighter, hoping the world would stop spinning. You leaned heavily on the boy holding you in place, and he laughed coldly.

"She's drunk." He announced to the others.

You felt yourself begin to slide to the floor, but he held you up. You tried to break free but could barely stand, not only because of the alcohol, but all the sensations.

Another boy chuckled, as if he just told them a hilarious joke. The one holding your arm tightened his grip, as the second one moved behind you. They were whispering to eachother.

"What should we do with her?" He asked, snickering to himself.

"A drunk girl alone at night? Hmm. There's millions things we could do." His friend replied, his voice low and menacing.

You hestitated for a moment but decided to say something. "Let me go." You spoke carefully.

You heard their cruel laughter, the way they looked at you like a helpless animal.

"Not going to happen, sweetheart." The boy holding you replied. He grabbed you by the hair, tugging your head back, causing your neck to arch uncomfortably. Just then, you could feel something cold on your throat. "That's up to us. That pretty little mouth of yours has gotten itself into a bit of trouble." He added, his voice low and predatory.

You struggled to free yourself, but he was stronger than you expected. You let yourself be pulled close to the boy who first spoke.

"Now don't go struggling so much, cutie." He whispered. "You'll ruin your makeup, and that just won't do."

And then, one more person came. She, because it was a female (even though she looked masculine and it wasn't so obvious at first, when your vision was still fuzzy), seemed to surprise even your attackers.

"What are you guys doing?" She scoffed, smoke blew out of her mouth as she spoke.

The grip on your body loosened. "Oh, look who missed us. Hey, Williams." The boy ignored her question, clearly knowing the girl.

The girl's presence stunned the boys into momentary submission. They quickly regained their composure, exchanging a look with eachother before turning back to you.

"I was just about to teach this little one a lesson." The first boy replied. "Can't have her walking the streets, alone and drunk, while she's all dressed up. She needs to be taught humility."

The second boy smirked. "You need to be careful, sweetie." He said, squeezing your shoulder. "There are creeps like us out there, and-"

"Shut the fuck up." You hissed, cutting him off as the female's presence made you finally able to speak up. "Let me go, damnit!"

They backed up at your outburst, clearly surprised. They exchanged glances with eachother, as if unsure about who should react. The first boy spoke up first, with a sneer.

"Oh, she can talk again." He scoffed, as the second boy laughed. He leaned in close to you, his voice low.

"What did you say, whore?" He grinned, his tone cold and menacing.

'Williams' rolled her eyes and came right in front of you. "So, I get you don't know them." She looked at you before turning her attention to your attackers. She extended her hand in a 'come here' gesture. "Give me her."

Someone pushed you slightly backwards, out of her reach.

"Fucking sadists." You murmured, hoping the girl will find a way to convince them somehow.

She quickly took a little bag from her backpack and tossed it to one of them. It was too dark to see what it is, but you could guess - weed.

The second boy caught the bag and opened it, peering inside, before a smile spread across his face. He shared a look with the first boy.

"I think she's good." He spoke up, as the first boy nodded. They released your hands, looking to the girl.

"You're the boss, Williams, you're always the boss." One of them muttered.

The boys turned to head back the way they came, as 'Williams' stood there, looking at you. Her expression remained stern and unforgiving.

"You should get someone to walk you home next time." She said, her tone neutral.

Behind her, the boys' laughter could be heard as they walked away.

"I don't need a bodyguard." You huffed, but deep down you felt a lot of sympathy for the girl. She may be weird - having weed in her backpack and knowing those disgusting boys, but she probably saved you, after all.

She watched you for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. She turned to leave, but stopped.

"Your makeup is smudged." She said, her tone remained neutral.

She stepped towards you and brushed her fingers across your face, using her thumb to wipe away some smudged makeup under your eye.

She pulled her hands away, inspecting your features. "Jesus, you poor thing. Wait, you have a cut on your neck." She noted, before pulling a tissue out of her pocket.

Then, she gently pressed a tissue to the cut on your neck, as the light from the street lamp illuminated your face. She looked to you, her expression concerned, as you felt your heartbeat quicken in your chest.

"Does it hurt?" Her tone turned to a more soft and caring one.

You didn't answer, too surprised by the sudden change of her appearance.

She took your hands, inspecting the red, fresh bruises on your wrists, as if noticing them for the first time.

"You don't have anyone, do you?"

There was silence for a moment, as the two of you stared at eachother. Suddenly, the girl's expression changed, an idea occurring to her.

"Come on." She said abruptly, her voice firm, as she reached for your hand. "I've got somewhere you can crash at." She pulled you forward, walking down the dark street. "You can fix yourself up back at my place."

You allowed yourself to be led forward, following behind her as she walked. At first, you felt uneasy about trusting a stranger. You never met this girl, yet here you were, following her into the night.

As you walked, she glanced back at you periodically, as if making sure you were alright. Sometimes she'd ask some questions, like your name, age, or just tried to build a conversation. You found out her name is Ellie and she knows the boys because of her weed business.

After a while, the two of you arrived at a small, unassuming apartment.

"Ladies first." She smirked, as she unlocked the door with a small key. She beckoned for you to walk inside.

You stepped in, as Ellie shut the door behind you. The apartment was dark, but you could tell it was spacious. The layout was open, with everything on the same floor, including the living area, kitchen, and a set of stairs that led to the upper floor.

She sighed, removing her shoes, as she sat down on the couch in the living area. She reached into her backpack, pulling out a joint. Taking it apart, she began to roll it back, more neatly.

You remained silent, feeling uneasy and out-of-place. You had no idea what to expect from this girl, and had no choice but to trust her, considering your situation.

She looked at you, noticing your expression. "Relax, doll. You're safer here than you were out on the street. You smoke?" She asked, her tone remained neutral.

You sat down on a chair nearby, as Ellie lit the joint, taking a few long drags. She held her breath for a moment, before breathing out a plume of smoke. You didn't manage to answer before she passed it to you.

"Just to settle your nerves." She explained. "I'm not about to hurt you. Or do anything to you."

You took the joint, taking a tentative puff, as the strong smell of pot filled the room. Almost immediately, a feeling of calm washed over you, as your muscles relaxed and your mind cleared.

You watched Ellie smoke, her eyes closed as she breathed in the smoke deeply. There was something oddly calming about her, as if her presence was enough to put you at ease.

"How often do you walk around like that?" She asked after a few moments of passing the joint back and forth.

You took another puff, letting the smoke fill your lungs. For a moment, you felt a bit light-headed as the drug began taking its effect. You glanced at Ellie, who had her eyes closed, smoking with one hand while she cleaned up the table with the other.

"Often enough." You said, and she nodded, as if understanding something.

"You're lucky I ran into you." She smirked, exhaling some smoke. She looked over at you directly, her eyes searching.

She took a long drag, and held the smoke deep in her lungs before slowly letting it out. You noticed her eyes barely left you. She sat there, in silence, observing you, as you both passed the joint between each other.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, she spoke up again.

"Why do you do it?" She asked, as she took another drag. "Walk alone at night after a few drinks. You live in a city like this. It's dangerous, no?" She shook her head, seeming puzzled.

You took a long drag on the joint, as you considered her question. It wasn't something you often thought about, but the more you thought, the more confused you became.

"I think-" you started before stopping. "I'm not sure, actually." You admitted with a sigh. "Maybe I just like being alone, or something."

She nodded, as if to accept your answer.

"I don't think you do, though." She said, still observing you.

You passed the joint back to her, thinking about her question. It wasn't your nature to question your own actions, or why you did things. It was rare that you could even make sense of your own thoughts, let alone explain them to someone else.

But Ellie had her doubts. She was perceptive, and you didn't know what to make of it. The more time you spent in her company, the more her eyes searched you.

"What makes you say that?" You asked, curious.

Ellie took a moment to respond. She leaned back into the couch, taking a drag of the blunt.

"Your makeup." She shrugged, like it was obvious. "It looks like it's been done to impress someone."

Her tone was neutral, as if it was a simple observation. To her, that's what makeup was for. You, on the other hand, felt uncomfortable by how accurate she was.

You felt yourself flush as Ellie spoke. Your makeup was an attempt at impressing someone. Not someone specific, really, but someone. Anyone. You wanted people to notice you.

"You have me figured out, huh?" You said, with a slight laugh.

"It's only obvious, if you take the time to look." She took another drag of the joint, watching you intently as the smoke filled her lungs.

She stood up and disappeared in a bathroom for a few seconds, before coming back with something to disinfect the little wound on your neck you already forgot about. Ellie's action took you aback. Here she was, a stranger smoking weed with you in the middle of the night, yet she was still offering you little gestures of concern.

She returned to the living area, with cotton swabs and disinfectant. She placed the swabs on a small table next to the couch, then knelt beside you, as you sat on the armchair.

Her eyes studied you as she cleaned the wound on your neck, being extra careful not to touch the surrounding area more than necessary. After a few moments, she removed her hands and sat back on the couch, her eyes never leaving you.

"Better?" She asked, her voice soft and calm as ever.

You nodded. The small wound on your neck hadn't bothered you much, but having it taken care of was pleasant. She've even been gentle and careful about it. She was still in your presence, sitting on the couch, watching you with steady, unmoving eyes.

"Thank you." You said, still feeling the warmth of the joint in your body.

You spent a lot of time just talking, realizing you got a lot in common and even if not, you respected each others differences.

You cleared your throat, feeling that you should probably be home now. You'd been with Ellie for some time, and the late hour coupled with the effects of the joint had you feeling slightly disoriented.

"I probably should be going... I need to get some sleep." You said, your tone apologetic as you cleared your throat again.

"Yeah, I suppose you probably should." She replied, as she stood back up. "Need any help to get home?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at you intently.

Hers eyebrow remained raised as she waited for your reply. You felt uneasy, not sure how to respond.

The joint had left you mildly disoriented, the late hour taking its toll as well. You were also still unfamiliar with her intentions, despite having spent two hours in her company.

"Actually, can I take the offer?" You replied, hesitantly. "I'd love some company walking home."

Ellie looked at you for a moment longer before nodding, with a slight smile. You could tell she expected and wanted you to say that.

"You didn't bring a jacket?" She asked, an expression of mild concern on her face. You shook your head, unsure of what to say.

"Alright, give me a minute." She said, as she walked to her bedroom. She returned a few moments later, a hoodie in her hands. "Take this, it's cold outside." She instructed, as she handed it to you. You took the thick-looking hoodie, pulling it on, as Williams looked you over.

She smirked as she watched you pull it on, the sleeves reaching down to just under the ends of your fingers.

It was nearly midnight as the two of you stepped outside her apartment, walking down the silent street. She was on higher alert than ever, constantly scanning her surroundings as the two of you walked. Her eyes didn't leave the darkness, but every now and then, she'd sneak a quick glance at you.

You headed towards a quiet part of town.

You reached your house, standing on the sidewalk. The effects of the joint had worn off, and your exhaustion suddenly hit you full force.

"Thank you." You said to Ellie, not sure what else to say. "Will you be fine, though?" You added. "You know, going all the way back, alone."

Ellie's expression remained neutral, as if she was used to walking home alone, even at the late hour.

"I'll be fine." She reassuringly smiled at you. "Go get some rest, you look tired."

She took a step towards you, as if about to lean in and hug you. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned forwards and did so, pushing a small bag into your hand before pulling away.

She turned around and started heading off in the other direction. "Sleep well!"

You watched her until she was out of view. Then, you headed inside.

Of course her little gift was weed but that was just an excuse to leave you a message. With a black marker she wrote her number and a note under it - 'if you'll ever need someone to walk you home again'. She must do it while going into the bedroom, to take her hoodie.

Shit, her hoodie!

You looked down at the oversized but comfortable and warm cloth.

At least I have an excuse to text her, you thought.

And you knew she did it on purpose.

[rainbowmothed]

︵︵ MISC. HAZBIN HOTEL HEADCANONS

╰ ⋯ ➢ just some random hcs i thought of off the top of my head!! ♡ as always, reblogs and likes appreciated! includes both main cast and heaven hcs. :3

𝜚 ₎ MAIN CAST HCS

Vaggie says stuff like “rad,” “dude,” etcetera unironically and definitely gets made fun of for it. Mostly by Cherri and Angel– Pentious says it is ‘hashtag trending awesome sauce.’

Vaggie sets 6 alarms in the morning, all with custom minute intervals between the snooze alarms to make SURE she doesn't sleep through it. Charlie doesn't mind, though, mainly because she wakes up at four in the morning to work on projects anyway.

Charlie has made playlists for everyone in the hotel on hell's equivalent of spotify; Vaggie's is the most well thought out, but they all describe them very well. Alastor never listens to it due to his dislike for modern technology/apps, but he appreciates it– or at least acts like he does– nonetheless.

Charlie definitely rides on Alastor's shoulders like a little kid bro IDC WHAT U SAY

Vaggie has cried ONCE in front of the rest of the hotel after being genuinely dogged on repeatedly on one of the worst days of her life, and they all just stared at her in shock. They hate on her so much because it never impacts her– or so they think so, because Vaggie always shrugs it off. They refuse to talk about it.

Vaggie's spice tolerance is unmatched.

Each night, Charlie visits Pentious’ memorial and wraps a weighted blanket around it, saying that maybe it'd remind him of the Egg Bois and the way they snuggled around him in the afterlife.

Vaggie is a huge Hunger Games fan. 90% of her personality derives from Katniss Everdeen.

Adding onto the last one, if Charlie and Vaggie were to have a child, I feel like it'd have the personality of Lucy Gray Baird.

Niffty definitely writes strange fanfiction. Also has BL as her header on the Hell's equivalent of Twitter. She's a little twisted, but we love her.

Cherri is an absolute menace. That is the best word to describe her.

Angel and Cherri did the “screaming in public restrooms” prank once.

Everyone assumed Charlie was mid-20s until she dropped the bomb that she's over 200 years old. They were all flabbergasted (minus Vaggie, who already knew. Angel also called her a “gilf lover.”)

Angel asked Vaggie about her body count once to tick her off, and she answered “around 1,000 or so, roughly estimated,” thinking he meant kill count. Charlie was shook.

Vaggie is a Paramore, Flyleaf, Evanescence, etcetera fan. Proud listener to 2000s emo girl music.

Charlie's guilty pleasure is punk/metal/rock music. She says she only listens to “Taylor Swift and musicals,” but she has a hidden playlist with KORN, PTV, and all of those bands on it.

Angel wakes Husk up by blasting Ayesha Erotica songs into his ear occasionally since Husk is a heavy sleeper and refuses to get up sometimes.

Pentious calls himself a “semi-proud father of the Egg Bois.”

Charlie ran a hate page about Katie Killjoy. She has since moved on from it... probably.

𝜚 ₎ HEAVEN HCS

Vaggie definitely played about 100 sports back in Heaven. Fencing, soccer, and, bare with me here, she definitely did ballet. She refuses to admit so, however.

The exorcists actually aren't brought into the world as adults. Instead, they're raised by volunteer parents of Heaven their entire lives, starting fighting training at age 6 or so. They claim that “children's brains are easier to mold.” Basically, they're taught to be murder weapons from a very, very young age. It's also instinctive, but it's the training that truly brings it out.

Each exterminator is based on a different bird breed, but the most common are eagles, falcons, hawks, and generally predatory avians.

The Exterminators are also very fast flyers, and they establish the quickest flyers through racing. Vaggie was formerly the fastest until she was cast down to Hell. Now, the fastest is Lute.

Adam also referees these races, and instead of a gun or whistle to start them off, he uses his guitar.

[thelostgirl21]

English Translators: "Jaskier" translates as "Buttercup", but we can't just let a manly man use "Buttercup" as his nickname! That's way too feminine, and our readers would be horrified! Let's call him "Dandelion" instead. Yes, much better... Mucho macho...

Netflix & Joey Batey: Yeah, no. We'll just call him Buttercup by keeping the original Polish name, i.e. Jaskier.

So, this is our very own Prince Buttercup. He's a damoiseau in distress that's regularly in need of being rescued, enjoys chatting with animals, and might randomly break into song.

He feels very comfortable asking a strong, stoic, muscular man to accompany him to the Royal Ball for protection, and will attempt to convince him by rubbing chamomile onto his lovely bottom, giving him a bath, washing his stupid hair, and dressing him up in stylish, fine clothing.

He tends to see the good in everyone, and will spontaneously attempt to become friends with things that want to eat him (both figuratively and literally).

However he can occasionally become pretty condescending with commoners, and treat those that fail to appreciate his talent as beneath him; often with a complete disregard for his personal safety, as if it doesn't seem to occur to him right away that they'd actually dare lay their filthy hands on him.

He cries very pretty (so pretty), and will look at you with gorgeous doe eyes when he feels sad, hurt, scared, or needs a favor.

He's very distrustful and afraid of power-hungry sexy witches coming at him from many different angles, until they stop being all predatory and menacing, and begin rescuing and protecting him instead.

He gets along very well with other princes/princesses, and will resent not being invited to one of the most important social events of the Continent, but not getting to spend more time with them.

And he never experienced what romantic love truly was until he finally got to meet his very own Prince.

Obviously, Prince Radovid fell in love with our Buttercup at first sight, and was willing to give up his Kingdom for a chance to be by his side.

And as far as Prince Buttercup is concerned, he sees himself as a

because that's simply who he is, and that's also what masculinity looks like.

So, unless Jaskier, in the books, is a very insecure man that constantly worries about being mistaken for a woman, I can't help but find it hilarious that the translators of the books, in English, got so worried over "Buttercup" sounding feminine...

...when the character himself likely wouldn't have been bothered by the way it sounds in the least, and would totally have rocked that nickname while making it work perfectly for a guy!

Hell! As a non-native English speaker, other than the fact that I've seen the movie "The Princess Bride", and the princess in it was named "Buttercup", my brain does not at all perceive "Buttercup" as inherently feminine, nor "Dandelion" as inherently masculine.

Perhaps because, in French, each word has its own gender, and "bouton d'or" (i.e. "buttercup", but the literal translation would be "button made of gold") is masculine.

Un bouton d'or (a buttercup) is masculine.

Un pissenlit (a dandelion) is masculine.

Une rose (a rose) is feminine.

Une tulippe (a tulip) is feminine.

Etc.

"Princess Buttercup" is thus named "Princesse Bouton d'or" (it's actually the title of the movie) in French.

But "Bouton d'or" (Buttercup) is, by itself, a masculine word.

The funny thing is that, where I'm from, I think the dandelion is literally the single most hated flower I can think of.

When I was a kid, my parents - and pretty much all our neighbors - spent countless hours trying to remove every single dandelion they could find on their lawn and in their garden while making sure to fully eliminate the whole root, because they tended to replace all the grass, and some of the other flowers and plants from their garden.

Some of our neighbors had their lawns treated with very harsh chemicals (many of which are thankfully illegal today) in a desperate effort to get rid of them.

Dandelion always makes allergy season a complete and utter nightmare, makes it harder to breathe outside (those floating bits clouding the air always get stuck in your nose, throat or even eyes), it also clogs the air filter of your car...

And, when you cut them at the stem, your hands wind up all sticky and smelling awful.

Unless they want to make a point that they'll be extremely annoying, unwanted, sticky, smelly, trying to get into every single exposed orifice of your body as soon as you're exposed to them, and hard to get rid of, why would anyone ever wish to nickname themselves "dandelion"?

I mean, "pissenlit", the French name for "dandelion", comes from "pisse-en-lit" and literally means "peeing-in-bed".

Because if you eat dandelion leaves, they will make you pee and wet your bed (they have a strong diuretic effect).

Yes, we hate the dandelion so much, that we've decided to name that freaking flower "peeing-in-bed".

So, if you go from the original Polish name to the English translation of the name, and then translate the English name back to French...

You've essentially replaced:

Jaskier - > Buttercup - > Button made of gold (Bouton d'or).

By

Jaskier - > Dandelion - > Peeing-in-bed (Pissenlit).

It's hilarious!

All because some English translator got scared "Buttercup" would sound "too feminine".

The good news is that we kept Jaskier's name as "Jaskier" in the French translation of the books and the games. Although Bouton d'or would have worked just fine.

But yeah, come on! Jaskier would have made a beautiful Buttercup!

#the art of creating some gender issue where there's none.

When in doubt, just ask the character...

Would Jaskier have had what it took to call himself a "Buttercup"?

You bet your lovely bottom and bloated biceps he would have!

Still can't wrap my mind around him being a peeing-in-bed flower in English... Just... Nope! Does not compute.