#can you use your imagination to understand WHAT exactly I mean here

[floweycidal]

clover would be nice to bugs, i think.

they don’t crazily save every insect they see, nor do they keep a census of lives rescued. this isn’t that kind of story. not at all.

but when they come across a beetle on its back, legs cycling through air like broken clock hands, there is no internal debate about morality, no performance of kindness for an invisible audience. they simply reach down, right what's wrong, and move on without waiting for thanks.

all those tiny lives that others casually swat at or sweep away. the spider rebuilding its web for the third time today, patiently reweaving what was thoughtlessly destroyed. the ant dragging a crumb twice its size across an endless expanse of floor. the moth fluttering desperately as it searches for a way back to the light.

more often than not, clover stops.

again, nothing ceremonial about it. no fanfare or fuss. just a tender hand extending a leaf to bridge a gap, or a solicitous finger nudging a fallen to safer ground.

they'd probably be cracking terrible puns in their head, something about giving beetles a "turn" for the better or how “moth-ers” know best. it stays there. tucked away with all the other small jokes that no one else will hear.

clover understands. they know what it feels like to live in spaces where you’re not wanted, to move carefully, noiselessly, hoping that the larger, more powerful beings in your world might just pass you by. they know exactly how heavy a careless footstep can be. you can see it in the way they move through the underground. this perfect quietude, like they're walking between raindrops.

it’s the kind of placidity born of understanding that survival sometimes translates to being so quiet that even the air forgets to stir around you.

being small doesn’t make you less deserving. powerlessness doesn't make you wrong. occasionally, the truest form of justice is simply making space for others to exist.

and clover would know.

their life on the surface was hardly rich with comforts or attachments. it was a life of static-laden tv shows, dishes washed with nary a nod, and spaces that felt more borrowed than lived in. they know what it is to go unnoticed, to be treated like something inconsequential, a minor nuisance at best.

more presence than person, clover has lived off scraps and donned garments stitched together with hope and necessity. they'd understand, better than anyone, what it means to exist underfoot.

it feels so natural, so right, to imagine clover giving a bug a second chance. where others see something disposable, clover sees something familiar. just trying to live. get by.

not a saint by any stretch, they’ll “borrow” what they need without asking. still, they’ll mutter a soft “excuse me” to a ladybug flitting too close, and still they'd find the time to guide a caterpillar out of harm’s way with a scrap of paper.

they'd choose to handle the fragile and easily breakable with care and fairness, for mercy matters most when it’s offered to those who cannot demand it.

the world has a way of teaching its smallest inhabitants to expect cruelty—to see a hand coming down like judgment, a step as an unthinking end. to know that to exist while small is to always be one breath away from being deemed an annoyance, a pest.

the bugs are blissfully unaware of their reprieve. they don’t realize that someone paused, saw, and judged their lives worthy of continuing. clover never needs them to know. it's not why they do it.

clover permits these lives to continue without condition because being bigger doesn’t confer more importance. having strength doesn’t mean it must be used to crush the small. that wouldn't be fair now, would it?

and i like to believe this compassion for little critters isn’t so separate from their pursuit of justice; it’s part of the same whole.

justice isn't always the thundering declaration people expect.

justice here wears a shabby hat. walks without sound. respects a balloon's privacy and even waves it goodbye.

justice can very much come in the form of realizing that the most revolutionary thing you can do in a world that worships its own thorns is to be solemnly, persistently kind and just.

even to the things that everyone else would much rather squash than spare.

especially then.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

It is time!! loll Love the preparation, and of course we share that childhood love. I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 1! 😘💓💓

Oh goodness the enemies to lovers is bubbling under the surface and I am already naming Dean and Mila's children.

Omggg plss. 😭😭 It is classic enemies to lovers, isn't it? Somehow that just occurred to me. 🤣 Girl now look what you did -- you have me looking up names for their future children. 🤣🤣 What was your top contender? lmao

This chapter really is one of the best scenes in Spirit, not to mention one of my favorite songs in that movie. "Get Off My Back" is legendary.

Omfgg yes, we've talked about this, but "Get Off My Back" is the best song of the movie and that whole sequence is my absolute favorite part, which is why I had to include it in this chapter.

I love her already. I mean I loved her from the moment that I found out she broke that jerk's nose, but a strong defiant woman. Yes ma'am here for Mila 1000000%.

I'm so glad to hear that, because Mila does not, in fact, play. 😅 She's a scrapper for sure. 💪🏽

He's already feeling!😏 And I really loved that he fought the smile when she spat in the Colonel's face. Because Dean is already smitten with this woman.

Hahaa yep, it takes Dean a lot to just stand there while a woman's being abused in front of him. It doesn't matter to him that she's an Indian. (And whether he wants to admit it or not, he's noticed her. 😏)

I really love this part, when Dean can sympathize with Mila and her people and why they continue to fight. It also really brings together the "realism" in this story. Especially with the "He doesn't always understand their way of doing things..." A lot of people fear what they don't understand and for Dean to have a more "open" outlook even being surrounded by people who don't is refreshing. And now Mila gets to show her all the wonderful things about her and her tribe! He's different and I love him.

That's exactly what I was going for. Dean is occupying that middle ground of doing what he has to because he's a soldier following orders, but he doesn't relish the work when it comes to fighting the Indians. Logically, he understands their side and can put himself in their shoes, and so he sympathizes. (Mila might just show him even more of her world.)

I also really liked the background you gave him. His father being in the army and that being the reason why Dean joined, and I can just imagine young Dean and young Sam riding horses and breaking them out on their family farm.

Oh thank you! I felt like that would be an appropriate parallel to the show. And I could imagine that aspect too with him and Sam being playfully competitive while they found things to do on the farm! lol

Okay also the fact that Mila calls Dean "Green Eyes" had me literally screaming lol. I was like, "girl I see you and I respect you for noticing how beautiful that man's eyes are."

LOL girl YES. Them fanfiction greens. 💚💚💚

I hope Roman falls off a watchtower and into a giant pile of poop (the size of the ones in Jurassic Park) and then dies. I mean he doesn't... because Dean destroys that man. BUT I hope that they shoveled his body away with the same shovel they use for all the horse poop. It's what the people want lol 😂

lmfaooo If ONLY. It's definitely what the people want. 😂

The descriptions of his hands made me hyperventilate. 😳 I am telling you the trope of a big strong man who has done terrible things with his hands and then is nothing, but gentle with his significant other WIPES ME OUT. Oh stars, I can't take it 😭

I see we have the same problem. 🤣 Because that man's hands (figuratively) do things to me loll. That trope will forever be one of my favorite tropes. I guess that's why I always go for the rogue/hard outer shell guy who softens himself only for his SO. 😭💞

It's true love and now I'm scared of what's gonna happen to them.

YOU TURNED BABY INTO A HORSE?! MASTERFUL! GENIUS! Oh my word I was not expecting that, but it made me so happy you have no idea lol.

I absolutely did! Thank you, my lovely!! 🖤🥰 Baby's reveal was one of my favorite parts of writing this chapter. I was picturing a bit of Black Beauty lol.

Again, so happy Roman is gone. Man is a whole problem and Dean is a problem solver lmao 😂

Dean is the freakin' Solution, let's be honest lmao. Roman is gone, but he might still be a problem, in that Dean may have some consequences to face for his choice...

Oh this chapter was absolutely wonderful and it was everything that I expected and SO SO MUCH MORE friend!❤️ Western Dean is quickly infiltrating my subconscious and someone is gonna have to raise Freud from the dead to work this one out for sure. I mean Freud's already gonna have to talk to me about Spirit, but that horse had an energy, it was voiced by Matt Damon, I was young and impressionable, and I can't be held responsible lmao lol😅 (catching myself in 4k)

Wow, thank you so very much, friend!! 🥰💜 I'm very happy this met and exceeded your expectations. But omg relating to you so hard right now because Matt Damon was perfection voicing Spirit!! I was watching Behind the Scenes stuff just the other day with clips of his performance in the recording studio and him talking about what he enjoyed/thought was special about the movie. 🥰

(And yeah, I know I go overboard with these gifs but I had a fun time here lol)

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

COMING 11/10! (New chapters every Sunday.)

Or read Part 2 on Patreon now!

Series Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @this-is-me19

@emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28

@adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka

@chevroletdean @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24

@ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley

@sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @mimaria420

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @ajjustice

[gem-de-lune]

Helloo! Thank you for all the readings ever since and for the update today! My question is abt you if its not too intruding. If it is, you could just ignore this! That’s totally fine i just got curious because i am a believer of energy and vibrations but i don’t know the specifics of it yet such as to how to communicate or protect them and sorts. I just think tarot is just one way to go around this.

Anyways, how did you get into tarot reading? And how are you doing your practice to improve your intuition(?), if thats the right term for it😅

Aside from helpful and hopeful, I find your readings interesting. I feel like you’re more attuned to people’s energy as opposed to the other readers i see online. You seem more detailed because the other readers comes off as general when they do read like it’d make me think ‘isn’t that just common sense?’

I didn’t know before that people you read can give permission or not if they like 😲 Maybe it’s because it’s the first time I’ve seen a daily reading of someone but how exactly does that work. To what part of the person exactly are you asking? Also, I remember one of your readings where you asked all members and that there were members who were much more open and quicker to respond. I don’t know why but i just imagined little souls of them lining up and all 😭

Oh, when you read do you see a vision on your head or do you hear words? And how does your practice differ from others?

Sorry i thought I was going to ask a few questions only but more questions pop up as I typed this haha. I’m actually curious more than I thought. Again if all this feels too intrusive you don’t have to answer! Sometimes, my curiosity just gets to me.

Thanks again btw! We really appreciate you 🧡

Oooooh i will answer to the best of my ability since a few of yall have been asking something similar and this ask has all those questions compiled lmao.

A- I got into Tarot by essentially ordering a deck and just started doing personal readings for myself right away. I used Tumblr and TarotForum.net (not active to use anymore, but you can research card combinations here, and it is very helpful). I highly recommend just starting with the regular Rider Waite deck bc you need to learn what the most generic cards mean to make things easy later.

B- As for how i practice and improve, as I got more familiar and understanding, i realized there were basically multiple ways to connect energetically for a tarot reading. you could connect to a higher power/diety, or to an individual's subconsious/energy. From there, I began meditating- specifically chakra training, awareness meditations, and Kundalini Awakening Meditation to train my intuition and spiritual connections. At that time, I was connecting to what I call "the universe" mainly. However, the Universe is very finnicky. Sometimes they answer me, and sometimes they do not, and there is no way of me forcing it. I did not realize this until a bit later ofc bc sometimes when you start out, you are not sure of how you should be feeling or what feelings to trust.

But yeah so as I worked on my Chakra training I kind of naturally gravitated more towards people rather than only the Universe, because it makes for a more accurate palatable reading in simple human terms. The Universe and Dieties will always try to tell you more profound and big picture things, but sometimes you do not need all of that. You just need the most simple explaination. So in most instances, I request for the Universe to assist- but only assist rather than getting all my answers from them. And I ask them to be simple and specific on purpose otherwise the message is way too philosophical and weird bc they are trying to tell me the grand plan of things rather than the details- which is what Humans are more focused on. Reading by connecting to the individual makes it more personable and easy to understand.

C- Now as to how I connect with individuals, I do this in about 3 steps that vary. 1st, I make sure I am able to focus my mind. I do this through some breathing exercises that take a few seconds to a minute, and maybe a short meditation. In particular i keep my eyes closed and have a ritual of blowing onto my deck (idk why it just centers me) then I inhale with it against my nose, then blow out one more time with my head tilted up. I like to visualize sending out shimmering wind that travels to where it needs to be and sends me there. At this point, and let's use Seunghan for example, i will see the person I am connecting to.

They could be doing anything, walking down the street, in a cafe, at home, etc. In Seunghan's case he is usually walking around on the streets or at a public space sitting like at a cafe. Maybe I will call out to him or tap him on the shoulder. He looks up and I hold out my hand. Whether he takes it or not is the permission. That is if I can even get that far though.

I can be stopped at any point. Whether I am unable to visualize the air I blow out travelling, or unable to see the person I attempt to connect to, or maybe i try to force it thinking it's me and the person looks weird (has a weird smile, weird expression, or looks warped), or even if they simply don't acknowledge me at all. All of these are the permission indicators. How far I get insidcates how willing they are to share anything at all.

In the case of the last vibe check attempt, I was stifled from just the air blowing. I thought maybe I was not focusing, so I tried more after meditating, but rather than the normal enviornment I was met with a door to which I knocked on to request entry. Upon entering, I was met with some darkness and just weird expressions from Seunghan and one other member I could not place. But all were just standing around staring at me like an intruder. I could not see all their faces which means some did not want me to know what they were feeling at all. So I decided that was a no and I needed to go for now.

Now when it comes to visualizing like this, it is so much faster, more fleeting, and less detailed than what I am describing. It's the vagueness of a fleeting dream almost. Which is why meditating and being focused is important bc every small sensation is a factor that changes the enviornment.

When I do the Vibe checks for all members- I've mentioned before about how "so and so wanted to go first" lol and it IS kinda similar to tiny voices in my head but since it's energy it's just a vibe. I'll ask "who wants to go first" and in my head like a mantra it'll be like "Sohee Sohee Sohee Wonbin Wonbin SOHEE SOHEE Eunseok SOHEE" and some will back off and wait their turn and others will go back and forth for a while before I get annoyed 🥴. The event is similar to when you have a song stuck in your head. The ones that usually care the least about the order are Anton and Sungchan, also sometimes Shotaro. Eunseok likes to be first a lot and so does Wonbin. Sohee it just depends. I usually do Seunghan first regardless so he is never part of those fights lol.

Anyways a lot of this is basic intuition and rather than really detailed visions it is just feeling. You know like how you meet your friend's eyes and you immediately know what they are thinking or wanting to say? It is like that. As to how I came to know how to do that I have absolutley no clue- it is just something I eventually started doing naturally when doing readings and it has been very accurate ever since.

I hope this makes sense lolol i kinda went too in depth but I hope this helps for anyone interested in learning to read tarot in this method. You have to be a very empathetic person though and remember to use protection like sage or crystals bc some people's energy lingers on you and it's not always good at all....

Also be careful if you just connect to dieties bc not all of them are good. USE PROTECTION!!

Hope this was insightful! If anyone has further questions about this, feel free to leave a comment? I'll answer them.

[jaythelay]

I think the best way to describe many people's issues with modern day anything, from art, to discussions:

What if you had to use your imagination to conceptualize what the artist intended!? Wouldn't that be fucking nuts!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Request idea:

Your darling, adoring, wonderful boyfriend Jason sits you down And solemnly confesses that he is red hood. He’s been dreading this day for months. If you want to leave, he’ll understand and wait—-

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU KNEW THE WHOLE TIME?

Jason thinks he’s in an angst fic. The reader is in a rom com where her boyfriend has been a ridiculously obvious superhero, but she’ll let him tell her when he’s ready.

Maybe some shaningany flashbacks where you’ve helped to keep his identity secret (stalling so he can change, giving alibis) while he was oblivious.

- Batchilla

To Wait and To Love

Hi Batchilla! Hope you enjoy! ♡ ~1.5k words

Your boyfriend is a vigilante, Red Hood, to be exact. You know this. He's just not aware you know this.

It's obvious, really, and kind of cute the way he makes excuses to leave. Sure, before you put two and two together, it was starting to seem like he was just dragging you along. But it all made sense when you caught sight of the helmet poorly concealed under his bed.

It makes you wonder if he wants to get caught. Especially when he brings you flowers from the shop you just saw him save from Poison Ivy on TV. Or freezer-burnt cartons of ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop, which was buried under piles of snow courtesy of one Mr. Freeze only twenty minutes ago.

You offer him big smiles and kisses of thanks, and your heart melts a little at how relieved he looks, how baffled he is by your understanding. And you do understand. To tell someone you run around in spandex and leather every night is a big risk, especially for someone who used to run crime in Gotham.

You're no angel yourself, even if he does call you one, and it's endearing to watch him scramble for excuses. It's even more endearing that he tries so hard to make it up to you when he's late, when he has to leave early, when he comes back battered and bruised with flimsy half-thought out explanations.

You'll let him take all the time he needs to tell you, and it's almost funny how easily you've come to cover for him.

"Jason? Oh, he's changing his suit. Someone knocked into me and I spilled my drink all over his jacket. How embarrassing," You laugh out, answering the reporter's question over Jason's absence from the latest Wayne Gala. It's only half a lie, you might not have spilled your drink but he's definitely changing his suit. It's just not the suit anyone would expect.

Once whispers of a break-in at Gotham National Bank started circulating the Gala, it wasn't hard to miss the meaningful glances between your boyfriend and his family. Sometimes you wonder how no one's noticed it before.

You smile brightly at him once he comes back, smelling like gunpowder and leather, and you let him kiss your knuckles while he mumbles apologies over getting caught up with an old friend. You don't imagine Riddler is exactly an old friend, but you teasingly tell him how he owes you a dance for making you wait. He smiles back, his own grin even brighter than yours, as he leads you to the dance floor.

You're opening the door to your apartment, chatting lazily with your friend after a night out.

"Is your boyfriend here? I remember you saying you two were practically living together," they ask, eyes trailing around your living space.

You hum thoughtfully, "We pretty much are. I think he might be sleeping or out looking for the stray cat we saw the other day. It had a bad limp." It's not a hundred percent a lie either, there was a hurt stray. You just know that Catwomen already picked it up, after a text Jason sent to Bruce Wayne's current girlfriend, Miss. Selena Kyle. Which would have been more of a surprise if you didn't already know who Batman was.

But it definitely isn't the truth, because you did catch sight of a red helmet following you and your friend back from the club. (Gotham never felt safer, than when he was watching over you.)

Your friend coos and starts to respond, when a thump sounds from the fire escape. They jolt, "What was that?"

"The cat, probably," You say quickly, letting out a laugh, "it's, uh, pretty big. Has a limp. Hey, did I show you the flowers Jason got me?" You gesture towards the bouquet behind them, and you both focus on the pretty blossoms.

Within minutes, you hear your bedroom door open and close. "Hi, baby," Jason drawls, looping an arm around your waist to pull you to his side, "Sorry, I fell asleep, how was your night?"

You pretend not to notice the limp he's nursing, one you're certain he should be resting, and tilt your head up to kiss his jaw, "It was fun. Missed you."

"I missed you too," he echoes fondly, and the three of you fall into an easy conversation. You distract your friend when you all go to sit on the couch, and if you choose to avoid sitting on his left side, it's certainly not because Red Hood hurt his leg fighting Killer Croc earlier this week.

Jason has never said your name like that before. His eyebrows are knitted together. He's kneeling in front of you, his hands clasped over yours as you sit on the bed.

"I love you and I– I have something to tell you," he chokes out, strained, "please, just– just, hear me out."

It clicks. This is it. He's going to tell you.

You smile and nod, it'll be nice to finally air out this secret. And maybe he could help you work on your excuses? It'll be easier if you're working as a team. You reach out and brush his hair back, unfazed and delighted he's trusting you enough with this, "Of course, Jason. Anything you need to tell me."

Jason is going to throw up. He's finally gotten his act together enough that he's going to tell his partner he's Red Hood. His stomach is churning, it's agony, knowing he could lose them over this.

They're so good to him. So understanding and patient and kind. He has no idea how he got so lucky. And he loves them. It's scary sometimes, how much he loves them. He wants this to last so badly. So, he has to be honest. Has to tell them he isn't what the world says he is.

He's a vigilante. Was a crime lord. He hurts people to save people. He terrifies the trash that calls themselves human. He's not good for you, but he tries. He wants you to still love him.

He wants you to stay so much. Even if he's not good. He wants you. You deserve so much more than the excuses and lies he gives. Jason's wanted to tell you for weeks, but he chokes on his words every time. He's never been so afraid of doing something. Not when he was a kid on the streets. Not when he was Robin. Not as Red Hood.

You look so perfect, sitting at the edge of your bed and smiling at him. He almost flinches when he thinks this could be the last time you smile at him.

He's on his knees. He's prepared to beg. He would beg to keep you.

He says your name, he tells you he loves you. It might be the last time he gets to say that to you. The thought makes him even more nauseous. He tells you he has something to say.

You brush his hair back and keep smiling. He wants to sob. You don't know. You don't know what he is, what he's done.

"I'm Red Hood," he gasps out, voice ragged.

A beat. You're still smiling, you still look happy, and you're nodding at him.

He blinks at you, "I'm Red Hood," he repeats, "I know that- I know it's a lot. I understand if you never want to see me again, but, baby–"

You lean forward and kiss him. He's more than just a little dumbfounded. "Jason, I love you too. I'm not leaving you. I, um, kind of already knew you were Red Hood?" You say, a sheepish smile coming over your face.

"You– what?" Jason stumbles out. You're still here. Still touching him. You kissed him. You look relaxed. Happy.

"I saw your helmet under the bed. Everything clicked after that," You tell him gently.

"And you're okay with that? You're okay with me?" He asks, tone betraying his desperation.

Concern flashes in your eyes, "Of course I'm okay– I'm more than okay with that, Jason. I love you, tights or not."

He lets out a laugh, and his stomach swoops, the tension dissipating throughout his body, "Yeah?"

You grin at him, cupping his face, "Yeah, but you're going to have to show me how you swing around rooftops."

He gets off his knees to kiss you again, he doesn't think this moment could get any better, "Is that all?"

You giggle, at the pure elation in his eyes, and he grins widely at your joy. Then, the moment does get better, "Well, I'm kinda interested in the car Batman drives around you."

"I could make that happen," he murmurs, and seals the promise with another kiss, "You wanna see the batplane too?"

Your eyes light up, and Jason thinks he might be addicted to the mischievous glint that flickers in your gaze.

[3hks]

Writing Character CHANGE

Character development is absolutely CRUCIAL to a story, but having spent more time thinking about this topic, I came to the realization that I misunderstood a lot of points other people have made when teaching how to write character development.

There are a lot of factors that play into character development, but in this post, I'll cover some overall, but the main thing concerns any change to your character! (Which is also a huge part in development, really.)

So with this post, I'll be teaching you MY personal tips regarding this subject!

*The Basics*

Before we really get into the developmental stage, there are some things you want to establish, in which I'll explain later!

A couple of flaws.

How your character views themselves at first.

Your character's morals/ideals and how they think.

These things may vary, but you want your readers to be able to at least roughly predict how your character will act during specific events!

*Change*

Character development is just about how your character changes throughout the story. I like to say that there are several different ways one may change, (we'll get into that later on) but your character should NOT stay the same as the same person during the exposition and during the resolution!

"During character development, your character should grow."

This is a common piece of advice; your character needs to grow. And while I've assumed for the longest time that I understood what it meant, it never truly clicked.

While they will use words such as grow, what they really mean is that your character should mature. By the end of your story, your character may not always end up as a better person. When I say mature, I mean that they have reflected back on their life and have understood the consequences that came with their actions (if any) or how they could've done things differently.

Your character will not always end up as a better, fixed person, but they should understand their world and themselves better.

*Negative/Passive Change*

Alright then, so how does a character develop if they don't necessarily change for the better? Well, I'll get into that!

No matter what, your character should have learned a lesson through their experience. Even if they haven't exactly improved as a person, there should be a moral they can learn from what they have gone through.

If not, then did they really grow?

Additionally, how did their qualities negatively impact themselves? If they are bad traits, then it needs to be clear. And the best way to achieve this is by demonstrating how it hurts your character! However, it is rather uncommon for a character to undergo little to no change after a story!

*Positive Change*

Let's circle back to the basics, real quick. Remember how I said that before any development takes place, your character should be anything but perfect? That same thing applies to after the change.

Do NOT create a flawless character by the end of your story. Instead, focus on one or two flaws that get fixed as the story continues. These don't have to be huge, life-changing imperfections, but they can be minor ones that still shape their life in one way or another.

"Fixing" too many shortcomings can make your character seem, well, out of character, producing a character development that's more forced. The same thing applies if you're attempting to FULLY alter a fault that's just too big. The change will be too noticeable.

What am I talking about? Here's an example!

Imagine a character who's incredibly closed off to other people, wanting to ensure that he never gets too close to others.

That's a pretty sizable flaw, no? By the end of your story, you do not want to completely change because you need to preserve character, but you can change it a bit. Does he have a few friends now? Does he understand that there are some people worth trusting?

He may still be closed off to majority of people, but at least it's not everyone, and that's a realistic change.

*Different Changes*

As I continue to read more stories and watch more shows, I have realized that character development is not always about fixing flaws or personality, but it can extend far past that line.

So listen up, because I feel like no one really talks about this.

Your character can change their IDEALS, MORALS, and how they VIEW THEMSELVES.

Hear that? If your character has strong morals, they will hardly stay the same as they reach the end. Remember the requirements I mentioned at the beginning?

See how it connects now? There is SO much more to character development than changing a few imperfections. Like I said in the start, your character needs to grow and mature. Things like new morals or ideals assist with that!

*SUMMARY*

In order to start character development, you need a couple of flaws, an idea of how your character looks at themselves, and their morals. This is because those are the main parts of you character that may change through time.

Growth = Maturing (gaining a better sense of who they are and the world they live in.)

NOT ALL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS POSITIVE!

For negative or passive change, make sure to clarify how their imperfections affected or hurt them and have some sort of moral that follows.

YOUR CHARACTER SHOULD NOT BE PERFECT!

They should not be perfect in the beginning, and not perfect in the end! Do not 'fix' too many traits because you want to preserve character.

I think that's all! It's quite the post for something so simple, eh? But hey, character development is absolutely PIVOTAL to a story so I hope I at least explained the 'change' part of that well!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[obssessivethorn]

Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it 

[Masterlist]

Just imagine: 

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again 

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world 

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor 

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have 

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here 

They have a whole other world to get back to 

If they can even get back to it 

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something 

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter.  Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other.  “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group.  The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!”  “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface.  “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again.  “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect.  “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta.  Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it. 

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity 

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs.  “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet.  “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?”  The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill. 

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?”  “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?”  (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.” 

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips. 

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding. 

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right? 

[pinkchrissysposts]

☆LAST POST,THE FINAL ADVICE☆

(Basically answers to asks I got)

Ok first thing first there is no one here to help you manifest,not the bloggers,not me, no one,if reading multiple post on same topic can't help you then why do expect bloggers to help you who are gonna give you same advice,they have been mentioning on their posts. It's not like they are writing about different things,every bloggers are telling you the same thing YOUR 4D/imagination is the true reality,you just have to PERSIST and be CONSISTENT. No like seriously I really feel like you guys are just lazy,why are you depend on bloggers,Im not saying that you can't ask for help and by help i mean understanding certain concept or doubts but you straight up ask to help you manifest or coaching don't do that until and unless they themself mention about being a coach,because see we have a life of our own too,we are God but also human who are busy in their life. Bloggers post this amazing posts talking about law and how beautiful it is. But y'all are so into the victim mindset,as if you are the only one suffering,which is correct YOU are the reason you are seeing the person taking away your sp,you are so into imagining yourself in a broke state and dwell in it,because you feel comfort in it,get a bit uncomfortable dear,you'll endup being comfortable.

You cannot just get comfortable when you are transfered in a new school,new class and the new environment,you first adjust,you go to the school everyday and get used to the new environment then you get comfortable isn't it guys. Manifesting is exactly like this you get in the state of having the desire,it feels uncomfortable,fake,delusional but the more you persist the more you get used to this feeling of knowing. It's not even necessary to be in the state a 24/7,because we are in different state all the time,just when you remember about the desire get in the state or do whatever fulfills you.

No amount of methods won't be useful if you are not even persisting and keep look for 3d validation. To sum up everything all you have to to is persist. Bloggers won't be there for you all the damn time,most of you want to manifest being independent but with a mindset of a dependent person,who are depend on other's for method and doesn't even persist in it then cries,and trauma dump on other's dm.

There is no use of DMing us too you know,we as bloggers are the one end up getting bored or annoyed,because I'm telling y'all legit leave another method and come up with a new one,I have about 50+ dms and asks asking me how to manifest or trauma dumping telling me how they aren't able to manifest,dear of course you won't be able to manifest if you keep looking for validation. I'm not saying that your circumstances aren't that bad,it's probably really hard for you but darling,everyone had faced this challenge,it's hard but learn to ignore the 3D even if it was right on your face. Be stubborn when it comes to manifesting,it took me alot of time as well to adapt that mindset,so I read alot of fanfics where reader gets whatever they want this really got me into the brat mindset,you can also find methods or ways that you help you feel fulfill,I don't care what method you are using JUST DO WHAT FULFILLS YOU NOT ME,I've got alot of asking if they should do or this,you know honey do what you believe is gonna work for you,I'm not the one using that method,i purposely don't even reply because I want you guys to try it out yourselves. That's what every bloggers did too,they learn to trust themselves and their imagination.

OK here, since most of you ask me to help manifest I'm challenging you,for the next two weeks,affirm robotically for your desire,lazy to affirm? You shouldn't be,because majority of you complain about not being able to get in a state and endup saying you'll affirm,then do exactly that.

Wavering? Keep affirming and persist.

Don't believe the affirmations? Keep affirming and persist.

Seeing the opposite? Keep affirming and persist.

Make those affirmation your dominant thought,you will know when it will become your dominant thought when it come up on it's own and you don't get effected by the negative thoughts.

But Chrissy some say affirmation don't work. SO? Keep affirming don't be a weakling just because it didn't work for them doesn't mean it will not work for you,you are not them,you are YOU ,they probably didn't even affirm enough or probably checked their 3D,there are many successful people who affirm Jennifer Lopez,Ice Spice and my fav Taylor Tookes despite being petite she still become a model and even walk on runway and now in cover magazines,if they can do it why can't you,they also affirmed right? Not gonna lie majority of the successful people who are into manifestation are into affirming.

Also log out of X and Tumblr,yes it can be motivating to see success stories or reading motivation but they are of no use,you might see a new post talking about a new method and end up leaving affirming and start following that method. Instead you should've scroll on tiktok,or youtube or making vision board while affirming,it's way easier to then wasting your time here reading posts on same topic written in different ways or perspective. So instead just log out and affirm and PERSIST.

If you are so stubborn about the fact that you can't manifest,then start being stubborn about the fact that you can manifest.

This is now my last post I will be logging out might come to check in sometimes happy manifesting🪷.

[starkeyisthelastname]

you got me obsessed with trailer park rafe now ugh i can imagine any time he gets into it with her dad over rent he’d take it out on her later by having her pinned to his dingy couch with a hand on her neck and her tits spilling out of her little dress from his brutal thrusts 😩

thank you angel! im obsessed with him too 😩💦

Your father had added on a late fee to Rafe’s rent, meaning he had to come up with an extra $50, when he just spent the last of his money on a case of beer and a pack of cigarettes. He was pissed to say the least, certainly not in any mood for company. Which is why when he heard a few delicate knocks to the torn screen door, he snorted as he saw your sugary self standing there. You really were a man’s dream, so beautiful and too damn innocent for this world. Not knowing the struggles a man like him had to deal with. He grumbled, his massive frame striding over to the door as clearly you weren’t leaving.

It creaked open, his blue eyes peering down at you with a stoic expression and cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You didn’t know your favorite person was in a bad mood due to your father’s actions. In fact he had just given you some money to go to the town’s carnival tomorrow and to take one of your little friends. He just didn’t know you were going to ask the older man that he had thrown a late fee on for being past due on rent.

“Get outta here, kay babydoll. Not in a good mood.” Rafe’s voice mean, despite using your favorite pet name he called you.

Your glossy lips frowned, playing with the hem of your little summer dress, unknowingly letting your bouncy tits sway as you rocked back and forth. “B-but, my daddy gave me some money to go to the carnival tomorrow and i.. wanted you to go with me.” You said, long lashes fluttering at him.

The blue eyes that had been staring at your tits, went back to your face as you said your daddy gave you money. The same daddy he had cussed out for being a cheap bastard earlier in the day for charging a late fee all of a sudden. He took a long drag of his cigarette, his height imposing and darkened irises nearly staring into your soul. “Why you tell me that for, sugar?” He finally spoke, blowing the smoke towards you. “Cause you know your old man pissed me off.” He laughed, tapping the side of your forehead, to get your dumb little brain to understand what was about to happen.

He’d have you pinned on the torn and tattered couch, his massive palm wrapped around your throat. He could easily snap your neck if he wanted to, but enjoyed the sounds of your pretty cries too much as he brutally pounded into you. “Told you I’m a bad man, little slut. Don’t you ever come round’ here and tell me that shit again.” He spat, voice gruff and breathless as he rammed you.

You squeaked, soft hands coming out to grab anything as he fucked you into the couch. Your poor little self should have been scared, but you still put all your trust in him and were too far attached to him to ever think he was a bad mean man. You thought you were doing something nice, inviting him to the carnival but now you just wanted to show him that you could be good. Oh you were so far gone, letting him use you exactly like he said he was. Like his little fuckdoll.

“Shhh, babydoll. I know..” Rafe murmured, watching your eyes start to roll back and gorgeous tits bounce as he laid into you. “Gettin’ your cunt ruined by a big cock, huh?” He laughed, assumed that you to him so well. His hand that was around your neck, came up to roughly cup your jaw, making your eyes snap open. You could feel that funny feeling come over you, this time a new pressure hitting.

“You should have just stayed away. But you just couldn’t help your lil’ self could ya? Now your fuckin sweet baby self is stuck with me.” He breathed out, watching your pretty face come undone as you began squirting and soaking the torn couch underneath you.

[endursent]

- Biting Cold - Searing Warmth

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , mutual masturbation , blood and injury, hurt/comfort , huddling for warmth , handjob , self-destructive thoughts , NSFW 】

【 note; thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs on through the dark, the overwhelming support means a lot to me and gives my souls strength. please enjoy this much longer piece.

as always, the reader's gender is never mentioned, i avoided describing their genitalia and left it vague so that you can imagine your preference. 】

【 word count; 8.075 | read on ao3 】

He feels slightly out of place among the Astral Express, it’s not that he doesn’t physically ‘fit in’, all of you look different, act differently and portray yourself in very different ways… but Sunday hasn’t been able to see himself as part of the crew despite travelling with you for four months. 

  He feels like he’s made of stone, every movement is stiff and he has to make excruciating effort into every little action, he feels cold and hard, like an observing statue as opposed to a member. 

  There are days where he forgets that cold, when what he has come to recognise as typical shenanigans drags him into situations where he’s either forced to use his brain to solve complex problems or empathise with someone in a situation he didn’t think was possible. Days where he is on his feet and his mind tunnels to the mission at hand. 

  And there are others where there is silent travel, two days of calm traversal through the cosmos where he retreats to solitude and sees the sky get further away behind closed eyes. He tries to write down his thoughts and understand them, understand what his goal has become… the path he has taken leads towards the cosmos, towards discovery of himself as well as the universe, but what does he search for in the distant stars? 

  Is he merely searching for redemption? Should he not atone for the wrongs his ideals did to others? 

  Dan Heng had told him that endlessly searching to right a wrong that has already been done will only wear him down to his bones and bring no closure. That it will be an endless journey of selfish fulfilment, he will never be able to touch every person that was drawn into the dream—and that he should start with the person he can touch, himself. 

  He startles when he bumps into your back, his mind having been completely occupied with thoughts and distracted—as usual. Sunday grasps your shoulder to push himself back slightly as he gives the back of your head a glare. “Why do you walk in front of me? There’s more than enough space.”

  You give a small shrug. “Just making sure you don’t walk into something, think of me like a cushion,” you wave your hand vaguely as you turn back around. The snow is getting deeper as you venture through the woods, at one point in the densest part, it reaches up to your knees as you practically climb forward, raising your knee stomach-high with every step. 

  Looking around, you squint through the all-white forest… there’s supposed to be a research facility out here, at least according to one of the locals that showed the group around. But all you see is snow and trees.

  Sunday pulls his coat tighter around himself, he doesn’t yet have a very varied wardrobe to properly adjust based on the world the Express goes to next… perhaps he should have searched in the small town for an extra layer, the biting cold makes his fingers stiff and toes tingle uncomfortably. His nose is cold and whenever you turn your back to him, he tucks his wings against the front of his face like a shield, hoping his warm breath might give some comfort to his red nose and cheeks.

  Finally, the trees spread further apart and the snow congested less, you take out your phone and unlock it… no signal. Well, at least you’ve been walking in a straight line, it’s unlikely you’ll get… lost…

  You see a line of snow that’s been walked through across the clearing, it’s halfway snowed up again… and it looks exactly like the line the two of you have been leaving behind—but how could it be through this same clearing? You swear you haven’t turned at all since you left the town! 

  Sunday spots it as well and his teeth clench together. “That’s ours… have we been walking in circles?” he, too, was sure the path had been straight the entire time. How could you pass by your own footsteps leading across your current path? 

  You both stand still for a time, the gears in your head spinning, trying to understand how this came to be—does it mean that the way you came from now is wrong? Is left or right the way back. You heard Sunday click his tongue and turn to look at him… he looks terribly cold. 

  Feeling a bit bad for him—and certainly not wanting him to catch a cold, you zip down your thick jacket and pull your arms out of it. Being that you’re the only moving thing in his line of sight, Sunday immediately frowns at the sight. “What are you doing? You’ll freeze if you take that off—” he blinks as you hold the jacked out towards him, and he hugs his own coat closer to himself, lowering his chin under the scarf around his neck. “I don’t need your jacket, it is my own fault that I’m underdressed.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should freeze,” you push it against his chest. “Come on, while it’s warm—we can take turns.”

  Reluctantly, Sunday unwinds his stiffly cold arms from around himself and accepts the jacket, it doesn’t fit him perfectly… but the relief it brings is far more valuable. It’s still a bit warm from when it was wrapped around your own body, and he can faintly smell your scent along the neck of it. You give a smile and reach for the hood on the back, you pull it over his head, the fur lining it tickling his cheeks as his wings get pushed against his head and poke out of it, halo bobbing behind his head with snow lined around its outline. 

  “... thank yo—wh—?” his thanks is interrupted as you poke the feathers of his wings that are sticking out and push them inside the hood before pulling it slightly further down. “Stop—it’s perfectly suitable,” he waves your hand away. His cheeks were red already, but now more so with an embarrassed warmth as well.

  You immediately feel the chill of the cold wind and shake your arms a bit before rubbing them for some friction. “Alright, alright—I’ll leave you be, come on. The sooner we find this facility the faster we’ll be out of the cold.”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound and hunches slightly so that his face is nestled nicely in the collar of the puffy jacket. If you’re to take turns, he should try and warm up as quickly as possible… he doesn’t want you to be cold either. He only accepted as easily as he did because he knew you would hold him down and force the jacket onto him if he didn’t…

  But the gesture resonates with him nonetheless. It would be easy for you to continue in comfort, the jacket doesn’t prevent cold entirely, but it brings a significant barrier to the wind and chill, especially with the hood protecting his ears and neck. Yet you still chose to share it with him… it almost brought more warmth to him than the jacket. 

  You have always been like this, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point… with every offer, every smile and nudge, his chest grows warmer. 

  His sleepless nights were never unaccompanied, you were usually in the kitchen past midnight—once because you ‘forgot to boil eggs for breakfast and are too tired in the morning to do it’, another time because you were simply thirsty, then it was the night before Welt’s birthday and you and March 7th were baking cupcakes at three in the morning. 

  It has become a habit when he cannot sleep, be it because his thoughts will not stop interrupting him, or because the deeds of the past pull his stomach down until he has to use a bathroom or he simply feels restless and has a need to stand and move… to go to the kitchen. It’s a separate carriage from the bedrooms and gives some peace and quiet, once when you were not there as he had become accustomed to, he had taken out his phone to send you a message and ask if you were awake.

  Of course… he didn’t, as his thumb had hovered over the send button, he set his phone down and turned back to his water. Spending the dark hours of the night alone. 

  Not that there is a true night and day on the Express, it operates on a 24-hour cycle where the lights dim and the windows are blocked to emulate night—but Sunday is far accustomed to strange hours or wake and deep sleep. 

  Sunday is once again taken from his thoughts as you stop for the second time, looking around with a focused expression on your face. He follows your gaze but sees nothing amiss, just more snow and now distant trees. The sky is grey and the ground white, the falling flakes of snow blending the two seamlessly to blur the distance between earth and sky. “What is it?”

  With a shimmer, your weapon appears in your hand, sturdy and warm against your cold fingers. “I heard something…”

  Out here? It was a miracle if anyone found you out in the chilled wilderness like this.

  “Remember what those kids said earlier? When we were in town?” your voice lowers, eyes still scanning your surroundings. 

  Sunday nods. “That… we should be careful because ‘kids who get lost in the forest turn into ghosts that eat people’?” he didn’t entirely believe them, it was most likely just a cautionary tale their parents tell them so they don’t run into the forest and get lost. No child will survive for long. 

  “I don’t much like ghosts…” you mumble, the shiver on your skin not only because of the biting winds. Your muscles are coiled, ready and tense… you’re no stranger to duking it out with a monster or two, or even people. But what if you can’t whack it away like you could anything else? 

  Sunday is equally on guard as you are, but less experienced with direct combat. He’s mostly relied on intellectual disputes in the past, as well as planning for conflicts ahead of time where he won’t have to directly face off against something. 

  You see something shift in the corner of your eye—it’s not a whole form, it looks like a misty shape that drags into the snow as it moves. You shift your feet towards it as it speeds towards the two of you. Sunday grasps your shoulder as if he’s about to pull you backwards, but before he can, you swing your weapon—and the misty form dissipates.

  “...” your eyes flicker around to search for it. “Was that it?”

  “I doubt it,” Sunday says quietly next to your ear, his voice clear above the cool brush of wind that’s been chilling your skin. “There,” he gestures to a shift between trees. “There is a flicker of blue between the shoulders, it must be the weak spot.”

  Weak spot, you can deal with that—it can’t be much different from the game machines in Penacony, whack the glowing part. 

  “Be careful if it—” Sunday’s warning went ignored and interrupted as you lift your leg and charge toward the misty apparition. “Wait—!” damn it, he knows you have a tendency for recklessness, but at least let him do what he’s good at and create a plan of attack!

  He struggles to wade through the snow to follow you, unfamiliar with navigating high snow. But he has no chance of catching up with you. You raise your weapon again and raise your hands to swing downwards—but the misty form moves and you miss, the body dissipating again, it’s already a pretty small form, but it’s mostly translucent too, it’s not easy to follow.

  You’re so damn cold, it’s difficult to move as quickly as you usually could. You see Sunday stop halfway towards you and look around for the elusive creature… you’re not sure what it’s capable of, but your prickling instincts are telling you it’s absolutely not friendly. “Come, stay closer,” Sunday calls to you. “It’s less likely to surprise us if we watch each other’s flanks.”

  He’s right. You start to wade through the snow towards him when something moves in the corner of your eyes to your right—the wraith-looking creature seemed more condensed than before, its form whiter as if the falling snow had blanketed its outline and made it more visible. The blue hue in it’s torso flickered and expanded as a sharp shard of ice formed inside its body, it wasn’t wide, but it was long and jagged—and it was facing Sunday, too far from you to be able to get to him in time if the speed at which the shard was made was anything to believe. 

  He seemed to see it as well, eyes widening only slightly in surprise at the sight—his gaze snaps equally startled towards you as you dash towards the wraith. What are you doing!? Sunday calls your name in both warning and surprise, concern clear in his startled gaze, the creature is clearly preparing an attack—you should be falling back on the defensive, and not charging right at it!

  You hop surprisingly easily through the snow, each large step eating at the distance between the threat and yourself. Swinging the bat at it did nothing but dissipate it and let it reappear elsewhere—and you don’t have the body heat or stamina to chase it around for twenty minutes. Maybe if you grab the blue centre, it’ll materialise enough for you to break it. 

  Sunday cursed the high snow, trying to stumble through it towards you as you ran at the enemy. He watched as you leapt at it and tackled it down—surprisingly, the wraith did fall with you, but the way your body jerked as you landed in the puffy snow made his skin itch. 

  As soon as you tackled the wraith down, the shard of ice it was conjuring short forward as if it had been held back by a tight bowstring—and impaled itself in your body. The sudden, violent pain that burst from your torso made you nearly double over in on yourself. But you persisted and jabbed the end of your weapon into the core.

  With a loud crack and sound of shattering, the core broke apart like a light bulb, as if it had been entirely hollow. The misty form dissipated once more, leaving only shards of blue on the snow under you. 

  Sunday calls your name again with more urgency, heart hammering in his chest as he finally makes it to you, he bends down to take your shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt? You shouldn’t rush li—” his words stop in his throat once he sees blood padder onto the snow, the red colour a stark contrast to the pure white of freshly fallen snow. 

  For a moment, he doesn’t move, unsure what to do—does he tug you up into a sitting position? Onto your back? Where is it coming from? You’re on all fours already, so perhaps you can straighten slightly. “Let me see, let me see,” his voice is urgent as he sees the tremble of your hands and hears a strange sound, as if a thin sheet of ice was being stepped on. Sunday takes your arm that twitched towards your torso and sees frost hardening on your clothes and skin. 

  As soon as you had physically touched the wraith, your skin began to feel extremely cold, like you were perpetually laid against ice. Your entire torso prickled, but the worse of the pain was coming low in your abdomen, your eyes lower and you see the shard imbedded in your lower left abdomen, it was wider at the bottom and stretched the skin apart and cut your clothes where blood bubbled and dripped down into the snow. It felt like you had drunk ice cold water, the feeling of it leaking down into your stomach—except it was spreading from the ice, and every surface you had touched of the ghost.   

  “Let me see,” he says for the third time, firmer this time despite the small crack of his voice, whether it was from the cold numbing his nose and lips or the creeping anxiety at the back of his mind, it was hard to tell. 

  You gasp and cry out slightly as he tries to right you up, it feels as if the sharp shard in your body had just cut through the entirety of your torso with the small movement, tears bubbling at the bottom of your eyelids from the overwhelming sensitivity and pain. “S-stop—” you pant, voice barely audible between short, quick breaths, as if you were afraid that breathing deeper would hurt more.

  Sunday swallows, he’s not a doctor and though he knows basic first aid, his knowledge of what to do in situations like this relies heavily on the fact further help was on the way—but out here in the snow and wind with no signal… 

  He shrugs off the puffy jacket you had handed to him earlier and he lays it over your back, the biting cold already cooling his shivering body. “I’m sorry,” Sunday apologises quietly, his heart is racing, and though he seems calm outwardly, it’s a very practised and well-crafted front. His thoughts are racing, heart hammering in his chest and cold fingers trembling. All he sees and seems to be able to focus on is the puff of your breath and the drops of blood continuously leaking from you. 

  He’s afraid. Afraid that trying to move you will hurt you further, afraid that it might do irreversible damage—afraid that the damage is already so bad that there is scarce time to act. 

  The wind blows again and a shiver shakes both of your bodies and Sunday knows that just sitting around fretting will do more harm than good. “I am sorry,” he apologises again, more sincerely, because he knows this will only cause more agony. 

  He wraps his arms around you, and hoists you up to your feet. Your breath leaves you as you instinctively try to hunch back down, the stretch of your torso is blinding, your vision almost whites out in pain as you gasp and curse. Sunday apologises for the third time as he tries to drag you with him, pulling your dead weight is no easy feat—he isn’t particularly strong physically, he would struggle to hold Pom-Pom for long. “Hold on…” Sunday says quietly, his breath heaving from the strain of dragging both of you through the cold. “It’s alright, you’ll be okay,” he tries to reassure you, he needs to keep you awake.

  Sunday wasn’t sure he had ever felt so… anxious? Afraid? His skin felt like it was trying to tear away from his body, his hands and knees trembled and his heart clenched with every beat. 

  He is the one who should suffer, not you. 

  “Talk to me, you need to stay awake,” he urges, pinching the skin over your ribs. Sunday doesn’t want to create more pain… but if you fall asleep now, there’s no guarantee you’ll wake up again, and the thought makes his breath tighten. 

  Talk to him? No thought forms in your head, all you feel is pain. You want to throw up, your head is spinning and it feels like your ears are blocked out. “... o-okay,” is all you can manage. You can’t even move your legs to walk with him, he’s taking the entirety of your weight at this awkward angle. 

  “Good,” he peers into the distance. You need shelter—it would be a miracle if he found the town you departed from, or the facility you were looking for. But Sunday doesn’t consider himself so lucky. He looks down at you, slumped against him with sweat on your forehead despite the cold, he tugs the jacket closer to your body, trying to make sure you get some respite from the winds. 

  His legs burn, but he sees a raised part of the earth—there, it must be enough. “Almost there,” he murmurs your name, worry gnawing at his gut. “You’ll be alright, I’ll make sure of it,” he promises, holding you tighter.

  You groan as he sets you down in the small cave you found, your limbs shaking terribly—laying on your back doesn’t feel great, but it’s probably the best position you could be in, it pulls slightly on your wound… but it’s better than being hauled around. Blood has leaked more from the wound because of the movement, and the cold spreading from it, as well as your arms and chest where you touched the wraith has begun freezing your clothes in place.  

  Sunday presses his lips together, this cave isn’t large, but he could immediately feel the relief that the shelter brought. The snow gathered at the entrance shielded you from the biting wind, and that’s what’s most important. He takes his phone out of his coat pocket, his fingers stiff and numb from the cold… no signal, still. It might be the snow and wind, perhaps it will come around if it dies down.

  For now, there’s a far more important matter to tend to.

  Sunday kneels by your side, his throat tight at the sight of your pain. He had never been particularly good at facing the pain of others with a calm and straight face, his deep sense of empathy and compassion makes him wish he could take the pain from you and bear it himself. Not to mention that he’s come to actually care for you, he has never felt himself so shaken like this—not since he had heard of Robin’s injury. Very few instances will shake him so thoroughly to his core as that did. 

  He tugs your sweater up, a small whimper leaving you as more cold brushes against your bare skin. The shard isn’t wide, it’s similar to his thumb, perhaps a bit wider… but he realises the severity of it nonetheless. It’s long, and…

  Sunday hears the cracking again.

  You had only moved your hand, your breath trembling. He looks down at the shard again and sees frost spread from it, it’s cooling your skin and hardening on it—it has to be removed. Everything in his mind is telling him not to touch it, leave it there so that you don’t bleed even more profusely. But if he leaves it in, your skin and body will freeze.

  He says your name quietly. “I need to remove the shard,” he says slowly. Sunday reaches for your hand and holds your fingers in his palm. They’re ice cold, frost covering the gloves and threatening to freeze them in place. “It… it will hurt, and I apologise for having to do it.”

  You squint at him, swallowing thickly. You can’t imagine how it will feel, and you feel anxious to let him. “A-are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he nods, his hand slides up your arm and rubs it slightly, as if he’s trying to create friction and warm your skin. His wings are lowered, sitting against his shoulders as if saddened. He wasn’t entirely sure what the best course of action is, but surely you will have a better chance with an open, but dressed wound and not being actively frozen alive, than you will with the shard still inside of you and trying to actively kill you? 

  It’s a chance you’ll have to take. 

  He takes off his scarf but leaves his gloves on, he doesn’t want to touch the shard with his bare hands. “I will need to remove it slowly to ensure it doesn’t cut you further…” Sunday shifts on his knees next to you, the cave floor is just as cold as kneeling on snow. “I’m sorry.”

  You’re not sure how often he’s apologised at this point, and you’re unsure why he feels the need to, this wasn’t his fault. 

  Before you can examine the thought further, he grips the shard and you gasp—even just touching it makes you panic. “W-w-wait—” your heart races. Don’t, it—

  He pulls gently, and the shard moves. A scream tears from your throat and Sunday’s breath catches. He almost stops, but steels himself. If he stops now, it’ll be worse, he’s already started—he has to finish. He repeats his apologies like a mantra, your body jerks and he uses his other hand to press down on your left hip, trying to hold you still. 

  It only takes a few seconds, but they feel like minutes, minutes of tears and screams, of trembling fingers and gentle pulling. He has to pay attention to his movements perfectly, and has to make sure it doesn’t hurt you further. 

  And when it’s all over, he tosses the shard aside and bundles his scarf to lay over the wound as blood wells in the wound. His white scarf immediately colours red at the edges as tears slip down your temples. Sunday feels a rush of emotions after the ordeal, your screams and tears, the blood. Almost as if moving instinctually, he lays over you and wraps one arm around you, cradling your head into his shoulder as his other still presses against the wound. “I’m sorry, it’s over, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear, his arms shaking equally to your entire body. “Focus on breathing, slowly. It’s over.”

  He tears up as well, the soft wings by his head touch your jaw as he holds you, his breath shaking. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had gotten, and while the danger hasn’t passed—and you could potentially be in more danger freely bleeding as you are, it brings a small relief that the shard it out. 

  Your head spins, the pain has been so agonising, the fear and anxiety of pulling the shard out that you feel like you passed out for a moment. But feeling Sunday so close, holding you so tenderly, as if he were cradling a delicate feather between his palms… your hand that feels less frozen solid slowly raises, as if to return the hug—but your fingers poke at his halo by accident and he near shoots up, wet eyes large. Ah, touching a halovian’s halo probably doesn’t feel good, you think. 

  He blinks a few times and takes a breath. “L-let me focus on your wound, then we need to find a way to warm you up,” Sunday says hurriedly, sitting back on his knees. 

  His mind races as he tries to focus on pressing down on your wound, hoping it starts to clot faster. Your body was so cold, even your neck and cheek. Sunday himself doesn’t feel particularly warm… but he’s afraid that you’ll die from hypothermia if he doesn’t warm you up quickly. Sunday looks up to see that your eyes have slid shut and he feels his heart tighten. “Open your eyes,” he reaches up and pats your cheek with his palm, he says your name urgently. “Stay awake, just a little bit longer, please.”

  He tries to keep you awake with encouragements and small pokes and pats, but your near violently trembling body needs more help. Sunday ties the bundled scarf to the wound tightly with a long ribbon from his coat—maybe this needlessly complicated outfit has its uses after all. He then focuses on trying to warm you up, he places his hands on either side of your arms and rubs them, creating friction. The frost that had built up on your clothes and skin hasn’t spread further, it was likely driven by the shard. Now he just has to warm you up.

  But friction can only do so much, after a time, you’re moaning about it hurting, and as he lifts your jacket he sees the already reddened skin from the cold is raw and sensitive. 

  Sunday’s eyebrows pinch in thought as he does as before. “Let me share my warmth with you,” he utters and lays over you, now using both arms to wrap around you—he doesn’t dare move you into a different position than on your back. He still tries to rub every surface of your skin for warmth, but it’s not retaining heat well enough. 

  “We need to create warmth—” he jumps as he feels your cold fingers slide under his shirt. His stomach is warmer than his hands, and your icy fingers on it makes his entire body shiver. “O-okay,” he doesn’t say more, he doesn’t trust his voice to form fully. 

  This might be the method you need, and Sunday is determined to warm you up in any way you require… though this doesn’t very much help him retain his warmth.

  As your fingers feel warmer and it’s easier to move them, you retreat them from his stomach and slowly raise them to his ears. Sunday blinks at you in surprise as your warmed fingers envelop his cool ears. “What are you doing?” 

  You give a weak smile, you’re still in pain, but you’re more lucid now that there isn’t a foreign object stuck in you. “We warm each other.”

  His cheeks redden slightly as your fingers rub the shell of his ears to warm them, your fingers aren’t exactly warm, but they’re not completely cold either.

  “It won’t be sustainable like this,” he says, still laying over you, just raised slightly with his elbows on either side of your head, his misty breath wafting over your cheeks. “We need to warm faster, more directly.”

  You squint at him, he sounds like he was trying not to explicitly say something, but you had an inkling to what it was. “Like… sharing body heat?”

  His head turns slightly, gaze avoiding you as one of his wings twitches, moving to his cheek as if to hide his face, you’re unsure if it’s a conscious movement. “... for example.”

  You don’t see why not, desperate times and all that. “Okay, your coat is pretty big, we can use it as a blanket, my sweater too,” he has an easier time taking off his coat by himself, but has to help you take your sweater off. You shiver at first, but as Sunday sets his coat and your sweater over the two of you, and lays closer to you—still wearing a thin shirt—you feel subtle warmth. 

  Sunday struggled to even talk to you as soon as you huddled together, though there were thin shirts separating you, he felt the skin of your arms and collar against him. He’s never been this close to the glimpses of your skin only previously seen from a distance, now he’s close enough to smell you, to touch you. 

  He’s careful not to touch your wound, but keeps an eye on it. Your breaths mingle together and you lay your cold forehead against his shoulder to try and absorb any warmth he gives. Unfortunately, it’s not quite enough to keep both of you warm. He tries to rub your arms again, and you try to breathe warm air on his skin, but the solutions are very temporary. 

  Darkness has begun setting outside, and there’s little light inside the cave. You can still see each other, but it’s clear that nighttime is approaching. You whisper in Sunday’s ear next to you. “You cried for me, earlier.”

  He doesn’t reply immediately, his hands that were rubbing your thighs for warmth halting for a moment. “... I did.”

  “Do you often cry when people are hurt?” you wonder.

  “Sometimes,” he continues to focus on warming you, trying not to think of your lips brushing against his collar when you talk. 

  He hadn’t just cried because you were hurt, because you were in pain… a thought had occurred to him as you screamed and shook as he removed the shard that it might kill you—that his actions might. He had done nothing but stand and watch as you had battled the wraith, he had moved slowly and been unsure how to help you after you broke its core… and he had brought you more and more pain. Even in trying to help, how can his heart not ache? 

  You who have always been so kind and patient, even when he sought to entrap the cosmos. Even when you stood on opposite sides of the grand theatre. You didn’t hesitate to include him, to make him feel welcome as he hesitantly stepped onto the Express. You sat with him during long nights and caught him when he experienced his first warp.

  He doesn’t want you to die, he doesn’t want you to be hurt.

  You seemed to sense that he had fallen deep into thought yet again, you raise your head from his shoulder and he turns his head to look at you. As he does, your cool fingers slowly raise and touch his cheek, it’s warmer than before. “You’re very kind.”

  His lips part slightly, his expression is difficult to read as he stares at you from above, his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your hand, to your eyes again and do a round of your face. He opens his mouth further, as if he wants to say something, but only a breath leaves him that warms your own cheeks. He utters your name and it’s almost too quiet to hear. Slowly, his head lowers and you meet him halfway—his lips are soft, despite not having eaten or had water in hours, stuck in the cold, they don’t feel stiff or chapped at all.

  As if he’d snapped out of a trance, it had only been seconds that your lips touched and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, I should—”

  “It’s okay,” you breathe, hand still on his cheek as you try to guide him back towards you. “You’re warm, and…”

  He doesn’t need more of a reason, he’s been aching to be closer, his arms tremble with the strain of holding back. His body is so damn cold, and the inside of your mouth is warm as his tongue slips between your chilly lips. Your hand that rested against his cheek slides behind his head as he kisses you deeply, your head lowered against the cold floor, only cushioned by the fluffy hood of your jacket. His wings flutter and brush against your wrist as your other hand touches his shoulder. Sunday’s fingers that had tried to keep your thighs warm rise to your hips, one hand dangerously close to your wound. 

  Your mouth opens to warm him, your lips separating for a moment, but he presses on again. “I know,” Sunday assures you, and his gentle tone eases your wariness. “I’ll be careful.”

  His lips part in tune with yours, the sounds of your wet kisses echoing in the cave, his thumbs rub at your hips as if he can’t keep his hands still and the only way to have them put in one place was to at least soothe you like this. Your cheeks are warm from the deep kissing, it’s almost suffocating the way his tongue drags over your lips and traces the inside of them, as if he’s trying to taste every surface of your mouth he can reach. 

  It was too much, the taste of you, the warmth of your mouth and your tight hold on his shoulder and behind his head. He needs more warmth, needs to feel it radiate from you and bask in it like touching a bonfire. Your cold fingers and shivering skin, the frost clinging to your sleeves and collar—he wants to make you warm again, feel your warm fingers against his own, like when you handed him a cup of tea during a long night and your fingers touched. Even the brief brush of another’s skin had stuck with him for weeks. 

  He groans against you and his mouth slides from yours, his lips trailing warmth to your cool jaw and throat, the chilled skin shivering again when he closes his mouth over thin skin between the juncture of your shoulder and neck. Your breath trembles as he worries it between his teeth, tongue gently brushing over the tingling spot once he’s done. 

  “I…” his breath is deep and wanting. “Let me warm you, please. I-I wish to touch you, to ensure you won’t shiver with cold any longer.”

  You nod. “Help me,” the words are pleading on your lips. Your feet are numb with cold and your body has bouts of harsh trembling. You want him to touch you. 

  Sunday takes your lips again with his, as if he can’t get enough of your taste and the feeling of your mouth moving against his, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper as his hands lift your thin shirt to your collar, moving any barriers in his way as he moves the heat from between your lips and to your chest. Your body will quickly warm itself if he stimulates it appropriately, and he intends for the two of you to feel comfortably warm. “Wha—“ you weren’t expecting his mouth to seek there so quickly, and certainly were you not prepared. 

  His lips close around your left nipple, the warmth brought from it makes you inhale softly—but as the texture of his tongue drags over it, you nearly jerk in surprise, your wound aching from the sudden moment. Sunday’s hand holds your hip down on the side where there is no injury, his eyes looking to you from under grey eyelashes. “Please be still, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” his breath fans over the moist point of your chest and you shiver again—for entirely unrelated reasons to the cold. He resumes his attention and you find that ‘being still’ is your greatest challenge today. Every single drag of his tongue, flick and suckle sends sparks through your body, it makes your fingertips twitch where they’ve claimed hold of his shoulders and your thighs flex. The most prominent tingles settle between your legs where you’re desperately trying to will down the rising need for attention. 

  Your cheeks and neck warm—and you make a high-pitched sound as his gloved hand moves to your other nipple, a poke followed by a pinch and his thumb sliding left and right over it makes your body instinctively squirm and tense. “S-Sunday—“ you breathe his name, unsure exactly what you want him to do or don’t, the sensations of his warm mouth and cold glove on opposite sides makes your head nearly spin. 

  “Do you feel warmer?” he looks up at you again, his golden eyes seem to glow in the darkening cave. 

  You nod again. “A little,” you’re still cold, especially on your stomach that’s bare And exposed to the cold air of the cave. Your left hand rises slightly to touch the wing above his shoulder—causing Sunday to tense as he blinks at you. You want him to be warm too, he’s been so diligent in trying to make friction against your arms and thighs, in hugging your coats together and huddling close… “Warm us both, together.”

  He licks his lips in thought. Warm you both at the same time? He can only think of one method. Sunday takes your hands from his shoulders and holds them in his own, he raises them to his lips and blows air onto them before he guides them between your legs—and a distinct warmth emanates from there. It shouldn’t be surprising, having your chest touched and licked like that definitely pools heat there, but the way Sunday’s hands are so careful and his gaze so focused, as if he were unearthing a grand treasure or under an important assignment…

  He buttons open and lowers your pants only as far down as needed, not wanting to expose your skin to more cold air than necessary. Sunday still holds your hands as he lays them over the radiating warmth of your crotch, he doesn’t directly touch you, only using your own fingers as a proxy to slowly slide and rub your cool fingers over yourself. You bite your lip as you twitch under your cold fingers, the stark contrast of temperature making your heart race more than it was already. But it does warm your fingers, the more he moves them. “This might be uncomfortable at first,” Sunday utters as he brings your hands up before guiding them into your underwear—with no barrier between your warm flesh and cold fingers, the temperature difference is even more stark. 

  His own cheeks are red now as well, and he releases one hand from you to lean over you again and bring your bodies closer. “Keep your hands there, move and touch as you can,” he says and fully lets go of your hands. He holds himself over you with his elbow on the floor next to your head—which you instinctively tilt your head towards to rest against, seeking his touch—while his other hand unbuttons his own pants and tugs them down only slightly. “I-if we… do this, then our bodies will warm… and so long as we huddle together, then—“ his body almost jerks as his cold fingers touch his own aching need. “—then th-the cold should subside somewhat.”

  You nod, the movements familiar to you as your breath deepens—you were so sensitive, perhaps it was your cold fingers, or it could be the prelude of having your chest touched like that. This is surprisingly effective, but you still struggle to pay attention to your own pleasure and movements while Sunday is only a hair’s width of you, doing the same. So much of a distraction that your movements stilled, gaze fixed on the way his breath heaved, his head lowered so that his forehead was almost touching yours, his wings raised and shuddering. 

  Sunday seems to notice that you aren’t moving anymore, he swallows thickly and squints at you. “Wh-what is it?” his voice trembles slightly. “Does it hurt?” 

  He’s worried about your wound—and it certainly does ache, but your attention is far from being focused on that. “No… ah, can I… can I touch you?”

  “What?” he doesn’t understand you at first, even though he’s been quite good at reading your expressions and words today. “You… want to touch me?”

  You nod, and your hands leave yourself towards him, your warmed fingers touching his wrists—and his hands almost fly out of his pants in surprise. “I do,” you confirm. “Can I?”

  He seems conflicted for a moment, eyes lowering before he nods. “Okay… I’ll take care of you too.”

  A smile touches your lips. “Alright, I think it will warm us much faster.”

  Your fingers slide under his underwear, his cock is already straining against his underwear, hard and hot to your touch. Sunday gasps as you touch him—your fingers aren’t nearly as cold as they were before, but he still tenses as if you had shoved snow into his pants. You grasp him gingerly, not sure what is too fast of an approach for him, but as his breath seems to slow at your gentle touch, you take it as a go-ahead. 

  With every stroke and movement, his hips twitch—as if they want to move with you but are held back by sheer will alone. Sunday can barely think clearly, all he feels is you, all he smells is your skin, mixed with sweat and blood that stirs something in him. He joins you, his hand touching you in return and immediately it’s like your entire body flares to life, your hand moves faster, careful still—and Sunday leans down again, his lips on your neck kissing and suckling, his cool nose brushing against your warmed skin. 

  “S-Sunday—ah—“ your breath shudders. “More, l-little bit down—mnh,” warmth was pooling in your belly quicker than you’re used to, the flexing of your stomach amongst the pleasure tugged on your wound a little, but the brief pain was just an enhancement at this point.

  He breathes out your name, once, twice—with every stroke of your hand. You don’t feel that you can properly take care of him when his cock is confined within his pants like that, you turn your hand and tug his length out of them—and he springs free to the cold air, making Sunday suck in a breath, your sweater over his back almost sliding off. “Hahh, y-you don’t need to…”

  “I want to,” you assure him, licking your lips as you have much better freedom of movement now, your thumb strokes over the head and Sunday whines. His hands redouble their efforts between your legs, pushing your pants and underwear a bit further down to give himself more room as well. “Fuck, Sunday,” you curse on instinct, the overwhelming feeling of liquid heat searing through your veins causing you to respond to his hands with your hips—you were getting closer, and with every touch and twist on the upstroke you make, he is as well. 

  “Ahh, please,” he presses his forehead into your neck, Sunday’s hips make no effort to cease their movements now, he fully meets your strokes, hips rolling with your hand—he’s pressed down so much that your stroking him against your stomach, his thigh pressing against his hand as he prays to bring you equal pleasure with his own fingers as you are doing to him. He makes a particular movement that you can’t describe—and the tight coil in your stomach that’s been spreading fire through you for minutes finally releases its tension. 

  You cry out slightly, both surprised by the intensity as well as the relief and soothing warmth that surges through you from his fingers and out to your fingers and toes, to your ears and behind your eyes. 

  Sunday almost seems to come undone simply at the sight of you doing so, he needs only a few ruts against your tightened hand, instinctively flexed with pleasure, to achieve his own, his entire body jerking and shuddering as a sticky wetness splatters onto your stomach. 

  It takes the both of you a few moments to to catch your breaths, but as soon as Sunday’s thoughts realign to a comprehensive read, he tugs his coat and your sweater that’s slid a bit askew over his back—somehow miraculously not fallen off—to huddle the warms built by your combined pleasures. He nearly jumps when he feels the evidence of his pleasure sticking to your stomach and quickly starts to dry it with his shirt. “I-I apologise, I should’ve—should have turned away,” he stutters slightly, his voice not entirely reliable yet. 

  But you only laugh softly, wincing slightly from the strain put on your wound—the worry in his eyes from only a mere wince makes your chest warm more. “It’s okay. We’re warmer now, and… it was good, you’re good with your fingers.”

  His cheeks redden further—somehow—and his gaze leaves yours, looking at the floor next to your head. “Th-thank you… you did… very well, as well,” Sunday mumbles awkwardly. 

  You open your mouth to speak again, and suddenly both of your phones ping. 

  It’s stopped snowing and the winds have calmed, Sunday fishes for his phone to see seven unread messages from the Astral Express group chat. They’re asking for both of your locations and whether you’re alright, it’s been hours. He sighs in relief and sends your coordinates to them, the sooner you get medical assistance, the better. 

  You watch as he sets the phone aside. “No time for round two?”

  Sunday looks at you as if you’ve sprouted two additional heads. “Round two? Already—? No, you—the injury, if—what?” he stumbles through three different sentences, and you only laugh softly. The halovian lets out a ‘hmph’ and turns his head away from you—his cold halo bumping into your forehead.

  “Next time, then,” you rub the spot between your eyes where the spiky point of his halo smacked against you. 

  A sigh leaves Sunday and he turns his head to you again, a soft, warm kiss blessing the corner of your mouth. “… once you’re healed.” 

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss 3

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive (?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character.

COMMENTS: I started writing this for the Overblot Students and because it did so well I made a second one for the Freshmen. Then, as I like to try to include all the characters, I decided to write for the ones that were missing. These were the characters with the most votes to be in the 3rd part. The rest were left for the 4th part.

I hope you enjoy 😘💋

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: This can be seen as if you were at the beginning of the relationship, or already in an established relationship.

PDA for Ruggie is the most casual thing in the world. Whenever you are together he will have one arm either around your shoulders or around your waist. It's like a magnet, you get closer to him and his arm automatically wraps around you. Unless you didn't want to or the situation is more serious, of course. He's the type to hug you from behind and rest his chin on your head in a way that doesn't hurt you.

From the outside and at first glance, he makes it appear as if he is simply very touchy-feely. But the unconscious truth is that he is overprotective and territorial. No one can touch what's his! He's like that with food, with his belongings and with his significant other. It's an instinct thing. This doesn't mean he's controlling, if you're fine and happy, he's fine and happy. It’s just to make sure no jerk gets too close to you.

He might get a little jealous from time to time if you're very close to Ace and Deuce, for example, but never to the point of threatening them to stay away from you. He would never date someone he doesn't trust 100%.

Most likely he will help you with your household chores and ask for your help with his. Not because he needs help, but because he wants your company. Doing these kinds of things with you puts him at ease and makes him feel loved. It also makes him imagine what your life would be like together in a little house, but that's a conversation for another time.

When you're alone, he's still very into hugging you and being close to you, but in a more relaxed and lazy way. He likes to mess with you. You'll probably have a few tickle battles here and there.

In public, his kisses on your cheeks range from soft to playfully passionate. On the lips they always remain soft and casual.

Of course, the most meaningful kisses will be those in private, where his instinct doesn't encourage you to be protective. When you're relaxing together, he won't let go of you. He's the big spoon type. He will gently kiss your cheeks, ears and neck. And on the lips, they'll start out soft too, but if you let him get into the mood, they can become as possessive as the instinct he's trying to control.

Jade is not exactly the PDA type. A nice way of saying that it embarrasses him. He doesn't like to attract much attention and likes to maintain a low profile. So he won't initiate PDA and will appreciate it if you don't either. However, what he doesn't do physically, he makes up for verbally.

He may not be the type to hug you in public, but he is definitely the type to say something in public just to see you blushing and flattered in front of others. However, he does this discreetly. So that people usually only see your reaction without understanding very well what led you to that. He loves messing with you to see how your reactions can surprise him.

He will say things in your ear as if it were something casual. Or saying things out loud, but using words and phrases with double meanings, as a way of camouflaging what he really means or misleading the person, but affecting you in the process. Like a comment that to others seems innocent, but you know from something that happened between the two of you that he was referring to something else.

Even though he's not a fan of PDA, he sees no harm in kissing you hello and goodbye. A delicate and courteous kiss.

In private, he already appreciates the simple fact that you are keeping him company while he does some solo activity like taking care of his terrariums. However, despite the appearance he wants to give as a relatively peaceful person, inside, he is as much a lover of chaos as his twin brother. But in his case, he is the arsonist, not the fire.

In the same way that he likes to provoke you in public, he can be a thousand times worse in private, not holding back with his words and being more sincere since there are no "witnesses". In public he's just a little playful, but in private, what he loves most is discovering how far he can go, how far you can hold back. He loves to push your limits. Not in a bad way, of course.

And it's at these times, when he manages to pull that string that incites you to fight back in kind, that eventually, after a little more mutual incitement, he will return the kiss you initiate with his most meaningful one. That dangerously mischievous and provocative feeling. He loves to play with you.

But of course Kalim is an innocent PDA fan! What does Jamil mean by holding back and being discreet? He loves you! Why would love be something you should hide? He shows how much he likes and cares about someone, whether they are friends or family, to everyone. The same would be no different with you. In fact, you are the one who deserves the most for him to show you his love.

He will hug you and stay close to you ANY chance he gets. Whenever he sees you, he will stop whatever he is doing to run up to you and hug you. Whenever you see him and say hello, you'll see his smile widen and... him running up to you to hug you. He's more of a hugger than a kisser, at least in public. He will shower you with gifts, expensive, cheap, extravagant, simple, small, big, whatever you love. Unintentionally, causing envy in those around you.

He is 0% jealous, probably because he is also naive. This can also cause him to not be very protective, as he never sees the bad in others. In these cases, Jamil is the one who protects you if necessary, in the same way he does with Kalim. And, most likely, you are the one who will have to protect Kalim instead.

He's a people person, so it's rare that you're alone together. He likes parties and being with as many people as possible. The difference with you is that he never leaves you and if he wants to go talk to someone he will take you with him.

This also means that his most meaningful kisses, unlike most, are not necessarily the ones he gives you in private. He may be a person who likes to hug others in general when he is happy. But the kisses he gives you on your lips when he's excited, especially if he's in a celebratory mood, are the most passionate and loving you can receive from him.

Silver is pretty neutral to PDA. He doesn't initiate it, but he also has no problem reciprocating if you initiate it. The thing is, he's a very clueless person, so unless you clearly express in words that you want a hug, or a kiss, or just hold hands, he won't know.

On the other hand, if you decide with him, for example, that whenever you meet for the first time in the day he has to give you a kiss, he will give you that sweet smile of his and accept your request. He will follow this order to the letter and never miss a day or think twice about doing it.

He is not jealous, but he is quite protective. Since his actions do not reveal your relationship, people who don't know you at that level end up not even suspecting that you're together. His naivety and poker face only consolidate this.

And then two things can happen: in the best case scenario, he ends up casually revealing that you are dating, for example, if someone talks about a certain place, he comments "Yes, we went there on our last date." In the worst case scenario, someone tries to "woo" you and he suddenly takes over as your guard, surprising and probably even scaring the other person with his defensive posture, either placing himself between you and the other person, or stretching an arm in front of you, with his back to you. But the scariest thing will be discovering that that poker face can also transform into a threatening look.

As he doesn't express himself much, his kisses also end up being rare. Which makes them not only more special, but also makes him not having a more meaningful kiss, because the simple fact that he kisses you already is the most meaningful thing he will ever do.

All his kisses are soft, sweet and delicate, both the ones he occasionally gives you on your cheek and the ones he gives you on your lips. That kind of kiss that makes you feel like you're the most precious thing in the world and that makes you forget everything that's around you. Like those true love kisses in fairy tales when the prince wakes up the princess.

Lilia is 100% into PDA! He likes to surprise others and he always manages to do so when he is with you. Not only can he surprise others with spontaneous PDA, he can make you blush in seconds. It's like killing two birds with one stone, metaphorically of course.

He's the type to come up behind you and hug you, putting his arms around your shoulders. And if you're taller than him, no problem, he floats. He's also the type who would take advantage of these moments to say something in your ear that would make you blush.

There's a good chance he'll also play the following game with you: appearing upside down, giving you a kiss on the cheek and disappearing when you look. And repeat this 3 or 4 times until he finally reveals himself in front of you and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. (spider-man style)

He is protective in his own way. If he can, he will train you like he trained Silver and Sebek. If not, he will teach you what he can and what you can handle, so that you can defend yourself. He doesn't give the fish, he teaches the person how to fish. If there is a type of person he likes and admires, it is a strong and independent one.

However, he is aware that no matter how much he trains you, you will always be at a disadvantage to someone who uses magic. And if you are a female, you will be most of the time, if not always at a disadvantage to a male. In these cases, he doesn't mind "fishing himself”, he even enjoys doing it. He will protect you the same way he would protect the Draconia family, Silver, and any other loved one.

In public he is just playful, and his displays of affection too. He likes others to see him as cute because he knows how it gives him an advantage. Not only is it a form of pretty privilege, it's also a way for enemies to look down on him and thus let their guard down.

In private however, he cannot deceive you. You know that that cute side is a true side of him, but you also know that it's not the only side of him and that he's not as "innocent" and "harmless" as he likes to make it seem.

And his most meaningful kisses demonstrate this. They happen when he has that mischievous look in his eyes. When he takes off his “sheep’s clothes” and shows his real “wolf snout”. When he confidently approaches you with a naughty smile, and you're reminded how vivid the red in his eyes is. His kiss is elegant but dominant, almost like... a vampire perhaps?

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[wordsarelife]

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" With Mattheo and bestie reader or girlfriend reader please. I love your imagined so much and this is my first time requesting 🥺

—willow

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo has a brilliant idea for a date.. not

warnings: mentions of sex, a bit suggestive but no actual smut

notes: this was so fun to write anon, thank you!! please send more of these asks in the future! at the moment i mostly enjoy writing for mattheo or theo (or theo and belle -> from my fic call it what you want)

"this was the stupidest idea ever" you mumbled walking next to mattheo "you really outdid yourself this time"

"isn't it romantic?" he gestured in the air around you

you looked around confused "horrifying is more the word i would use"

"don't be so negative all the time" mattheo outstretched his arm and intertwined your fingers "this is the perfect spot for a quickie" he smirked

"you disgust me" you rolled your eyes, while still watching around you uncertain. mattheo had dragged you outside for a walk. in the forbidden forest. at night. "you really are pushing your luck"

"ahh" mattheo almost made a noise that sounded like a giggle "you wouldn't leave me"

"go on with that behaviour and you'll find out" you smiled sarcastically. mattheo relaxed when you squeezed his hand "can we please go back now?" you muttered

"are you scared?" mattheo laughed

"of course not" you shook your head "i just don't want to explain why my boyfriend disappeared"

"are you planning to murder me?"

"no body, no crime" you shrugged

"yeah.." mattheo trailed off and you grew suspicious

"matty?" you asked

"huh?"

"you do know where we are... right?"

"pfff" mattheo looked behind you "of course" he raised his arm to point in a general direction "there's that thing back there"

"you have no idea" you sighed, more to yourself than to him

"i was busy looking at you"

"don't do this right now" you breathed "this is just great" you turned around, trying to find a hint of the way that would lead you back to the castle "did you never read hansel and gretel?"

"what?" he asked flabbergasted

"the muggle tale about the siblings getting lost in the forest, who find their way back using bread crumbs" you got a bit heated and started speaking louder

"no?" mattheo replied offended "why would i?"

"because we are in the exact same position as they were, aren't we? where are our bread crumbs?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, the kitchen has been closed for hours" he said confused

"i'm not talking about actual bread crumbs" you replied frustrated while messaging the space between your eyebrows.

"ooh, yeah.. i understand what you mean" matty nodded and for a short second you had the hope that he put a bit of planning into this idiotic idea "whatever the equivalent of bread crumbs is.. i did not bring it" mattheo admitted and shrank under your gaze

"did you bring anything? a map at least?"

"ehh.. no"

"what was your plan exactly, matty?" you crossed your arms

"well" mattheo said, scratching his neck "my plan was to come here and have sex behind a tree. yeah.. that was it"

"do you ever think with your head?"

"not about you, no"

"okay" you tried to calm yourself down "i'm gonna get us out of here"

"i'm so proud to have such a brilliant girlfriend"

"flattering won't get you anywhere tonight, baby" even though his strategy didn't work, mattheo was glad that you didn't seem as angry as before

"sure" he nodded "what are we gonna do"

"first we're--" you paused, suddenly noticing something that send a shiver down your spine

"baby?" mattheo asked, confused why you had suddenly stopped talking "is everything alright?"

"no" you shook your head, before you grabbed his arms, gently turning him around so he could see what you did

"shit" mattheo said as he noticed the webs and the signs, that had warnings of spiders plastered all over them

"this is my worst nightmare" you panicked. there was nothing, really nothing in the world you were more scared of than spiders. mattheo knew that. his eyes softened as he noticed you shaking and grabbing at his hand.

"don't worry" mattheo whispered to calm you down, suddenly remembering something very important "i did bring a map" he took out a parchment and held it in your direction. theo had been as impressed as you by mattheo's stupid idea, so he had drawn a map, just to make sure you both would survive the night. "theo coulnd't talk me out of it, but he gave me this"

"i need to tell theo that i love him" you said relieved. theo's handwriting was neat, so you had no problem to read what he had drawn.

"this kinda turns me off, baby"

you send mattheo a look. "you better be kidding. why are you even turned on in the first place?"

"you look so hot in that dress" mattheo smiled "my pretty lady" he kissed you on the neck longingly

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" you asked, impressed how he was still able to concentrate on sex while you were literally surrounded by possible danger

"we're not dying, are we?"

"i suppose?"

"i will never not get turned on by you as long as i can breath"

"matty" you giggled as he sucked on your sweet spot "i'm not gonna have sex with you right now and definitely not here"

"too bad" mattheo acted disappointed "how about my room? i'll get rid of theo"

"don't you think he already did enough for us tonight?" you asked, raising theo's map "we can go to my room" you sighed "but get us out of here first"

"yes ma'am"

[stevieschrodinger]

Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part One

Part Two

PART THREE

"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."

"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"

"Yeah, like a series."

"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"

"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."

Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.

"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"

"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"

"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.

Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"

"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."

Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.

Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'

And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.

There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.

"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."

Steve's heart fucking melts.

Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.

"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."

"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"

"Yeah. Still not my thing-"

"Oh."

"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."

"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"

"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."

"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.

"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."

"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.

"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."

"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."

"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."

"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."

And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

[ohmyitsfaith]

The sunshine and the grump / Part 2

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sudden visitors show up on a calm day and chaos ensues. Who are they and where did they come from? But most importantly why are they here? You, your husband and his family are ready to find some answers.

Warnings: fighting, Sparrow!Ben being sparrow!Ben

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: Hi everyone, I know, it's been a while. But here is something that should have been done sooner. The second part to The sunshine and the grump. Please forgive me for this, but in this part Viktor is refered to as "Vanya" and using she/her pronouns. This is solely for the reason that this story is from the reader's point of view and she doesn't know that he's Viktor. If there's an interest in a new part, then obviously I will incorporate him coming out as Viktor. Anyway, long a/n to the side, I hope you guys will enjoy it!

“Shit” broke out of the six people standing in front of you collectively.

Ben guided you behind him gently, sheltering you from the strangers.

“Ben?”

A soft sigh is all that could be heard from the guy wearing a cowboy hat. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and you couldn’t even guess who he was and where he came from. You never saw him before and your husband wasn’t the type to make friends so easily. So why did this man know his name? Why did he look at him as if he saw a ghost?

“Is that really you?” the biggest guy walked forward, also looking distraught and his face twisted in confusion and grief.

“And who are those weirdos,” the walmart-batman guy yelled and you followed his line of sight, “on the balcony?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight anger, but before you could answer at all, Reginald spoke up.

“They are the Sparrows, my children.”

You felt, more than saw Ben standing up straighter and could only imagine the rest of the Hargreeves doing the same, up on the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” the small boy spoke up after the initial shock passed through his group. “What do you mean your children? That’s not possible, old man.”

“Of course it is!” Reginald exclaimed as your sibling-in-laws joined you downstairs. “I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

While most of the group looked at Reginald with untrusting gazes (which you could understand, he was your father-in-law and yet you didn’t trust the man fully), the cowboy hat guy was still looking at your husband with misty eyes.

“Everybody else can see Ben, right?” he asked, which made you even more confused. Why wouldn’t they be able to see your husband?

“Cute hat, Sundance” Ben said sarcastically, still keeping you behind him. You grabbed onto his arm lightly, to keep him grounded. But that’s exactly when the man noticed you and his eyes went even wider.

“Jennifer?” he asked louder, seemingly in shock and it prompted the rest of the group to look toward you, Ben’s arm curling around you protectively.

“Do not talk to my wife, asshole” he growled.

“Oh my gosh, it’s you! You- you guys are married!” cowboy hat guy gushed.

“Okay, that is it!” Ben moved to lash out against the guy, but Marcus stopped him.

“Enough” he said in his calming voice. “Who are you and why are you in our home?”

“They call themselves the Umbrella Academy,” Reginald answered instead. “A group of scheming, perfidious malcontents, who accosted me in the fall of 1963, when I was away on business in Dallas” he explained. “Be warned,“ he added, “they claim to be my spawn.”

That caught the attention of the woman with the very stylish cloak as she stepped forward.

“Claim?!” she then turned to her brother(?) in confusion. “Five, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, but it’s concerning,” the little guy, Five, sighed.

“Is he telling the truth?” Marcus spoke up, looking at the so-called Umbrella Academy.

“Well, not the part about us being perfidious-” the other woman started, just to be immediately interrupted by the cowboy-hat guy.

“No, we’re amateur-fidious, at best” he said, which just confused you and, seemingly, the rest of the Sparrows as well.

“But we are his children. This is our house” the woman confirmed.

“Yeah, yeah, we, uh… We grew up here” the big guy jumped in.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we grew up here” Alphonso mocked the guy, which made Fei and Jayme chuckle.

“I-” Sloane started. “Kinda think we would’ve noticed you.”

You could see the moment that the big guy realized who talked and just what kind of person she was. You saw his eyes light up and a dumb smile graced his features.

“Hi. I’m Luther” he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Monkey-brain” you whispered and Ben scoffed.

“Okay” the stylish woman walked towards you. “None of you belong here.”

“What?” you asked at the same time Fei said sarcastically: “Oh, well then! I guess we’ll just pack our bags and move out.”

“Yeah and while we’re at it, how about we also give you our jobs. Clearly, you are so good at it” Christopher garbled. “Seriously, these idiots can’t even understand the fact that we are the ones living here, imagine what kind of heroes they are.”

This caused the Sparrows to laugh and even you let out a chuckle. He had a point.

“You slay me, Chris,” Ben shook his head.

The next moment Grace arrived with a plate filled with cookies. At her legs was your chonky cat C/n. He meowed lowly and hissed at the new people before darting across the space, toward Ben and you.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Grace sighed as you leaned down to pick up C/n. “This is the best I could do on short-” she glitched and repeated the word again, “short… short notice.”

You winced as you stood up with C/n in your arms.

“It’s okay, darling boy” you whispered and started stroking his back. “They won’t hurt you. Daddy won’t let them.”

“Mom…” you heard wallmart-batman’s wistful voice, which immediately weirded you out.

And not just you, because Jayme spoke up as well.

“Mom? She’s a robot you perv” she scoffed.

“She’s not a robot!” wallmart-batman turned toward her defensively.

“Hey, don’t you call him that!” the big guy, Luther, snapped at Jayme.

“Or what?” Ben asked in defense of Jayme.

“Come closer and find out!” Luther stepped toward Ben as he started approaching the big guy as well.

“Luther! Guys, chill!” the smaller woman tried to stop Luther, while you reached out to stop Ben.

“Think I’m afraid?” Ben asked and you could feel his hostility roll off of him.

“Ben! Please” you asked him timidly, but your voice didn’t even reach him.

“Ben, stand down!” Marcus commanded, but Luther was speaking over him already and chaos started to form.

“Look at that, she’s got a voice!” he pointed at you.

“How about I hide that big Rubik’s Cube up your ass?” wallmart-batman asked, annoyed with Marcus.

“Enough!” Marcus finally shouted. “I don’t know what circus you escaped from,” Marcus started and you could see wallmart-batman touch his cheek, where something black just disappeared, “or how you got past our security, but we’re done here. You got 30 seconds to get out of our house” he said in a no-nonsense voice.

“And if we don’t?” the stylish woman asked just as you realized what was happening with wallmart-batman. You looked back at Jayme, who just shrugged.

“Then we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way” Marcus stepped forward, ever the leader.

You zeroed in on wallmart-batman, who looked totally out of it, sweat on his forehead and tears in his eyes.

“What did he hallucinate?” you whispered to Jayme.

“I’ll tell you later” she smirked.

“Look, we just fought a literal army. Okay?” the short woman tried to diffuse the situation. “This doesn’t need to get ugly. Let’s all just calm down and let’s talk.”

And honestly, you were on her side. You didn’t want to risk the house or your sibling-in-laws or C/n for that matter. This could definitely be…

“Psst. Ben-er-ino” cowboy hat guy sing-songed as he looked at your husband. You could see his shoulders tense even more and an exasperated sigh left him. “You look so much better alive than you do dead.”

Oh no…

“Am I right?” cowboy hat guy asked from the Umbrellas and the only thing you could do is wince. From this point onward you wished that he shut up because even you wouldn’t be able to stop your husband if he was angered by the guy. “Except the haircut” he waved his hands.

“Oh no” you winced as Alphonso reached out and pushed you even further from the Umbrellas to keep you safe. He knew just as well as any of the Sparrows: this is where it gets ugly.

“What the hell did you just say?” Ben stepped forward.

“Come on, come on!” cowboy hat guy walked toward Ben. “Stop with all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants” he stopped in front of your husband and leaned forward. “Oh, nice scar! Muy macho.”

“Oof” you commented and you could hear Jayme scoff as well.

“Shut. Your. Mouth!” Ben snarled and you knew, only a string held his anger.

“You shut your mouth and hug your brother!” cowboy hat guy exclaimed and opened his arms for a hug. And that’s exactly when Ben struck.

It was truly a beautiful hook that Ben delivered, you had to admit. But you wished that cowboy hat would’ve just stopped before it got ugly. You watched as he fell across the coffee table and it caused Luther to snap at Ben.

“Hey! What the hell?” he snapped. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I did!” Ben snapped back.

“That’s right, he did!” Alphonso backed him up.

“Hey, get back! Back off!” Marcus shouted as Luther stepped closer.

“Luther!” you heard the short woman yell out as Jayme grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the counter, just as Marcus pushed Luther.

And all hell broke loose. Marcus and Luther started fighting and the Sparrows and Umbrellas paired up as well.

“Jayme, get Y/n out of here!” Ben yelled as the small Umbrella teleported toward him and started fighting with him.

You could hear yelling from both the Sparrows and the Umbrellas as they fought and you could only try to stay calm as Jayme pulled you toward the exit. But you didn’t get far as the stylish woman intercepted you and Jayme, along with the short woman. You ducked just in time as one of Fei’s ravens dived in to try and attack the stylish woman, who immediately took up the fight.

“Sloane!” Jayme yelled out and pushed you toward the woman. “Take care of her! I have a shorter problem.”

This, C/n didn’t like and he jumped out of your hands, scratching them in the process.

“Ouch!” you hissed, holding it.

“C’mon Y/n, let’s get you out of here!”

“Alright” you nodded, frantic now that the chaos started to get to you.

You could hear Jayme knock the short woman down as Sloane tried to lead you toward the stairs. But that’s exactly where Fei and the stylish lady were fighting.

“Uh… okay, plan B” Sloane stepped back and looked up at the balcony.

“Oh, please, no” you tried to plead with her. “You know I don’t…”

“Just get to your room, we’ll get you, when we’re done here” she promised and you felt her powers wrap you up and lift you toward the balcony.

You landed behind the railing and stood up. That’s when you heard the short woman say: “My turn.”

You could see her turning… white? And you knew you had to flee. Before much else could happen though, Sloane used her powers on her as well, though less gentler than she did on you.

“Shit!” you yelled out as the short woman slammed into the pictures behind you as you ducked, afraid.

But just as you stumbled through the short hallway to be able to turn right, a knife whizzed by you and you soon heard Chris’s garbled yelling.

“Y/n, be careful!”

You looked back and saw him getting chased by wallmart-batman. You quickly fell to the left, where you could turn down the corner. Just in time, because in the next moment, Chris also turned that way, knives shooting toward him. You held your head for a second, trying to gather all your courage to move. You’ve never been this close to a fight, Ben always made sure that you were in a safe distance.

“Okay, Y/n, you have to move” you told yourself, gripping your hair. You screwed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then you stood up and sneaked toward the walkway.

But just as you reached the main staircase that led down, you bumped into the boy. Quite literally.

“Oh, you…” he narrowed his eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me” you put your arms up, in front of your face.

“You’re harmless?” the boy arched an eyebrow, suspicious of your surrender.

“I swear! I’m just Ben’s wife, a normal human!” you pleaded.

The next moment he flashed away. You flinched, but the punch never came. Instead you heard the swooshing sound three more times and he was back at the portraits. You peered over the railing to see Jayme approach him and the stylish lady. Before you could be spotted by stylish lady, you ducked back down and continued sneaking away from the scene.

“Hey!” you were almost at the end of the hall, when you heard her yell. You tried moving forward, but she was faster. She grabbed the back of your shirt, lifting you up.

“Please, please, please, don’t hurt me” you whimpered. “I’m no one, I’m just a simple girl!”

“Yeah I don’t believe that, Jennifer!” she accused you.

“That’s the second time you called me that, but I don’t…” you breathed as you felt her grip tighten on you. “I swear I don’t know who she is! I’m just Y/n!”

“Well…”

But stylish lady couldn’t say much more as Fei appeared on the stairs.

“Y/n!” she yelled for you. “Leave her alone, you bitch!”

“That’s not a nice thing to say!” stylish lady let go of you. “I heard a rumor you couldn’t move” she whispered over you and instantly, you froze.

You couldn’t move, only watch as Fei approached her and her ravens started multiplying. Stylish lady saw this and her eyes widened.

“Actually, on second thought, screw this” she said, turning around and making a run for it.

You were left there by her, still unable to move.

“Y/n, I’ll deal with her and take care of you” Fei leaned down to you as she reached you. “I promise I’ll avenge this.”

You could only look forward as Fei left you once again. You could hear the commotion behind you as Fei’s ravens started destroying a door somewhere close to you. Not much later you actually heard the familiar swooshing sound of the boy teleporting and his frantic muttering.

Suddenly whatever spell was placed on you was broken and you fell forward.

“Oh God” you sighed out, grabbing at your elbow which you hit as you fell. You also saw the dried blood on the back of your hand where C/n scratched you. Poor kitten was probably scared out of his mind.

“Vanya, get out of there!” you suddenly heard the boy shout and you slowly stood up to peer over the railing, into the living room.

There lay the short woman on the broken table and the Sparrows slowly surrounded him. You saw her breathing hard and groaning, trying to get back up. Suddenly she started glowing white. You couldn’t make sense of it, but knew it couldn’t be any good.

“Ben, be careful!” you shouted just before she… exploded? Her energy exploded, which threw you back to the railing behind you.

It was over before you knew it and could hear the others groaning and getting up from the debris.

“Oh god…” you heard Chris garble. “What the hell was that?”

Marcus appeared in your vision and offered a hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better” you groaned, accepting his hand. He pulled you up and led you to the balcony, where he looked down at the destruction.

“It’s over” he started. “Go. Don’t come back.”

You could only focus on Ben, who stood in front of the fireplace, clutching his side. Marcus sighed next to you as him and the rest of the Sparrows watched the woman, Vanya, exit.

“Y/n” Marcus turned to you. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Grace, she’ll fix you up.”

You nodded silently, sparing another look at your husband and his family standing in the debris.

You sighed as you exited the bathroom. It’s been about an hour since you got stitched by Grace (when you hit the railing it split the skin on your head open) and then you went to take a shower to freshen up. Meanwhile though, your husband was nowhere to be found around you.

You could only guess that they got a dressing down from Marcus, blaming them for the destruction. So you headed to the only place where you knew they could be: the training room.

“Y/n!” you heard Grace’s voice call out as you headed toward the room. “Do you need a smoothie too?”

“No thanks, Grace” you smiled at the robot. “I’m fine. Is that for the guys?”

“Of course, they need their greens for their training” she said as she caught up with you.

You nodded silently and opened the door in front of you.

“The skinny one is their weak link” you heard Fei say as you entered.

“Unless hiding behind couches shouting, ‘Where’s my daddy?’ is his superpower” Ben replied sarcastically.

Grace put the tray down on the table and you leaned against the wall to watch your husband stop the treadmill and slow to a walk before getting off of it.

“Enough post-gaming. They hurt Y/n and disrespected us!” he said as he walked toward you. “We need to be out there finding these freaks and taking ‘em out!”

He reached you and put an arm around you, kissing your forehead gently, which contrasted so much from his harsh words.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Marcus asked and switched whatever video was playing to the surveillance footage of the last moment of the fight. The others sighed and stopped their treadmills as well. Marcus walked in front of them and shook his head. “Can someone explain to me how you got your asses handed to you in 30 seconds?”

You sighed, massaging Ben’s back as he stiffened at Marcus’s admonishments.

“Do you have any idea what would happen to our reputation if anyone had seen that?!” he yelled at the end, pointing to the TV screen. “I mean we hadn’t faced any decent enemies for years. This could be good for us. Good for business. But only if we’re smart with our next moves.”

“Is that all you care about?” you spoke up suddenly, annoyed to see that the version of him that only cared about missions and being famous came out.

“I’m sorry?” he turned toward you.

“Did you even try to think about what these people could be here for? That what they were saying is true?”

“Y/n…” Ben shushed you. “Don’t make things worse, darling.”

“I’m not trying to. But did you even notice their faces? When they were talking, when they looked at you?” you looked at him. “The way they fought? I mean tell me if their style doesn’t seem familiar…”

“Y/n, this discussion is not for you. Our next move is not for you to decide” Marcus spoke up sternly. “You are not a Sparrow. You are not part of the team.”

“Fine” you gritted your teeth, then pulled out of Ben’s arms and turned around, just as Reginald came in.

“Nice one dipshit” Ben snarled at Marcus.

“You summoned, Number One?” Reginald asked Marcus.

Marcus regarded Ben and you for a second, before looking at Reginald.

“Sit” he said and you walked out.

You leaned against the wall as the door closed behind you and took a deep breath. You thought about all that the Umbrellas said before the fight ensued. And one thing stuck out.

It looked like they recognised you. But not all of them. And they called you… someone. Some other name… what was it?

Oh yeah, Jennifer. But who was this Jennifer?

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Taglist: @divergentnewt23, @evie2407, @snixx2088, @inkedeye2345

[alcoholfreenayeon]

WHAT IF you are at a bar or something and Sana and Miyeon come to entice you back to their place 😈😈 (sana and miyeon x male reader) 🤭🤭

A/N: It’s finally done bestie, hope you enjoy🤭!

I want that

CW: male!reader x Sana and Miyeon, NSFW, Smut, somewhat hardcore, hint of fluff.

You were sitting alone at the booth, your glass empty and watching the tv, some soccer game going on but you weren’t really paying attention. Feeling someone gaze at you every now and then, it was the average day at the bar, not too crowded but you wouldn’t say it’s empty either. Your friends had left a few minutes earlier because they all had some reason or the other. Work, partners, whatever. It didn’t matter though, you liked your own company at times, it gave you some time to reflect on things.

As you contemplated between going home or having another drink, you were interrupted when someone asked if they could sit with you. Looking up at the person, you saw an absolute goddess, she was easily one of the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You were too much in awe to reply but the girl just politely smiled and took your lack of objection as a yes and sat down.

“You don’t mind if my friend joins right?”, she asked sweetly.

“Uh, no”, you replied still awestruck when you turned to look at the friend and nearly fell out of your chair. Like the first girl was absolutely stunning but her friend, god you found her so irresistibly beautiful. Your mouth open while she sat down.

“I’m Sana and this is Miyeon”, the first girl introduced.

“h-hi, ahem, Hey, I’m Y/N”, you replied, losing your voice for a second.

The girls giggled and smiled prettily at you. They seemed really calm yet somewhat excited while you were losing composure like anything, you couldn’t even decide which one of them to look at. Somehow you managed to not seem like a complete idiot and weirdo and made some conversation.

Everything was going smoothly over the next few minutes, you were even managing to gain some confidence when felt something brush your foot and then saw Miyeon glance at you for a second, her cheeks slightly flushed before she looked away, smiling. You suddenly realized your own heart was beating quickly for some reason and cleared your throat trying to calm yourself down.

“Do you wanna come with us?”, Miyeon asked out of the blue, suppressing a smile. Sana giggled and gave her a nudge.

You felt dumbstruck, was this a joke? What did they mean by that because you totally thought you were interpreting that in a few different ways, all of which seemed greatly appealing but you couldn’t help but also think that maybe you didn’t understand what Miyeon asked. “Uhm…what?”, you choke, not knowing how to respond.

“I don’t live very far from here, the bar will close soon, maybe we can continue our…fun over there”, she said innocently batting her eyes at you while smiling so prettily.

Now, you’ve definitely heard of people getting killed like this but surely this was not the case, like seriously there’s no way these beautiful girls were some sort of deranged psychopaths after your kidneys or something. Your brain was practically shouting at you to proceed with caution but your heart whispered oh so convincingly that this was heading exactly where you never in your wildest dreams would have imagined. Unfortunately for your brain, your heart had you sold and any thoughts to take caution fell on deaf ears.

“Oh that sounds great, but I can’t drive since I’ve had a few drinks”, you manage, you could feel adrenaline pumping through your body as you thought of all the possibilities.

“That’s ok, we can just take a Uber, that’s okay with you right?”, Sana offered.

Sitting between the two girls in car, you wonder what you’d done to be so lucky. However, your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Sana put her hand on your knee before slowly starting to pull it upwards, onto your thighs, teasingly.

You freeze, not knowing how to react, understandably so and that’s when Sana leans in and whispers, “Does this excite you?”

You nearly whimpered and just as you are about to turn towards her, Miyeon’s voice stops you, “Unnie! You are so greedy, you can’t have all his attention.”

Before the words even sink in, you feel Miyeon grab your cheeks with both hands and she begins to make out with you sloppily.

This had to be heaven right? Like, surely life can’t get better than this, you think to yourself.

You begin to kiss her back and she seemed surprised for a moment before continuing but with more aggression. At the same time, Sana was practically in your pants and made some cheeky comment probably but you didn’t hear it, you were too engrossed with making out with Miyeon.

This continued for a few minutes before Miyeon pulled back, her cheeks slightly flushed and she was smiling mischievously while Sana was biting her lips and tying up her hair. You were trying to breath normally even though you felt out of breath but you didn’t wanna let the girls know that. Fortunately, before anything else could happen you had arrived at the destination and the three of you got out. You offered to pay but the girls insisted that they would.

“You can give us something else in return”, Sana said leaning towards you, clearing the last doubts of where this night was headed.

You were breathing hard now, as Sana noisily sucked on your tip while looking up at you. After a few moments, she stopped sucking, winked at you and then practically swallowed you all the way to your base. That took you by so much surprise you couldn’t do anything except move your hands on her head, inhaling sharply.

This continued for far less time than you would have liked but you had to make her stop or else she would end up finishing you there. You somehow manage to pull her off and Sana pouts a little but doesn’t complain. You pant and try to reset but before you can completely recover you feel another pair of lips taking in your cock. At this point your heart feels like it could explode. Miyeon struggles to take you as deep as Sana but makes up for it by somehow having more enthusiasm than her wanting to straight up suck the life out of you.

You end up making her stop after a few minutes too and take another few seconds to calm yourself down. It was getting harder and harder to that though, between feeling so desperate for your release and the fact that Miyeon had been kissing you for the past minute.

You become distracted when you see Sana lay on the bed on her stomach and look back at you seductively and you can’t help yourself and you get on top of her, she squeals excitedly when she feels you climb on her, arching her back. You were feeling feral now after being close to cumming twice and weren’t going to go easy at all.

Entering her took both of your breaths away, you sighed shakily, trying to compose yourself while Sana’s eyes stooped dreamily while she bit her lips. She didn’t let you off easily though and almost immediately started to push back against you forcing you to grab her shoulders and hold her down. She giggled at that but that turned into a gasp real quick when you began pounding her hard. She gripped the bedsheets tightly, panting as you filling her repeatedly. It only took you a few minutes of fucking her before you felt her clench and cum, letting out quiet moans as she came.

You smirked, she has been acting really cocky for a while now so it felt good to see her be so helpless now. Giving her only a few moments of rest before you begin pounding her again. You place your hand on her cheek, raising her head a little and to your satisfaction, Sana follows your lead and gently bites your fingers, whimpering as that only drives you to become rougher.

It was becoming harder and harder for you to focus on anything else but you felt Miyeon climb on the bed too, looking at you and Sana somewhat enviously. But you were not able to focus on that for too long. Especially when Sana was whining now as she was getting close to cumming once again which of course made her pussy tighter as she squeezed and clenched. Just when you thought you were about to reach the point of no return, Sana cums and you somehow manage to hold on. Both of you panting hard, a blissful smile on Sana’s face as she was slowly getting down from her high.

You turned to face Miyeon and found her pouting, “Did you really like her so much that you couldn’t even look at me?”

“Uhm….”, you tried to find your words but you had no defense.

“No”, she put a finger on your lips, “Don’t make excuses….if you really want to prove me wrong then do it through your actions”, she said while pulling you on top of her. “If you really mean it, then, Ruin. Me.”.

Those words turned on something inside of you, not that you needed encouragement to fuck her.

Pinning her hands either side of her head, you waste no time and enter her and it was honestly, quite possibly the best sensation you had ever felt. You begin to thrust immediately, ramming as deep as you can each thrust, stretching her slightly. You weren’t sure how long you would be able to last considering you were already quite on edge from Sana and the fact that Miyeon was staring at you so intently didn’t help at all.

At the same time, you felt her fists clench as each thrust was literally seeming to take her breath away. The two of you fucked for…..minutes?….an hour?….you didn’t even know, it felt like a decent amount of time but it wasn’t enough. Like you didn’t want this to ever end. You just wanted to keep fucking her for forever. At some point Miyeon broke through your grip and freed her hands, wrapping it around your shoulders, trying to pull you closer.

You were panting with each thrust now, trying not to cum, aware of how dangerously close you were to your release, ready to pull out any second.

That’s when Miyeon, grabbed your face, staring at you a moment too long and gave you a deep kiss, “Stay in me, don’t pull out, fill me up…please”, she whimpered practically while at the same time wrapping her legs around your waist tightly not giving you much of a choice really. Not that you had any problems with that. You began to pound her faster, both of you moving in perfect rhythm.

That’s when Miyeon cums, managing a strangled gasp as she shakes with pleasure, her convulsions send you over the edge as well and you practically explode inside her, wave after wave of your cum filling her up. As you both came together, it felt euphoric and eternal yet at the same time it also felt like it only lasted for a second. You both were panting heavily, looking at each other and you hesitated a little bit and leant in, kissing her passionately for a few seconds before you pull away. Miyeon blushes a little when you pull away, slowly letting go of you, almost like she wanted to hold on for a bit more.

Sana scoots over, “oh, you both seemed to enjoy it a lot more, Y/N was she really that much better than me?, she said smiling mischievously.

You freeze, glancing at Miyeon who looked like she would slap you if you gave the wrong answer. You fumbled over your words without saying any real answer which caused both girls to giggle which made you realize they were just teasing.

“Well, it’s quite late and us girls need our sleep”, Sana said suddenly, signaling that was time for you to leave. “Especially, after you tired us out so much”, Miyeon added with a giggle.

You were handed your clothes by Miyeon, a bit puzzled because you were pretty sure that’s not where you had left them but maybe you just were lost in your excitement and forgot. Regardless, you bid them goodbye and went on your way.

As you waited at the bus stop, you reflected on everything that just happened. For some reason, your thoughts were lingering back to Miyeon repeatedly. You lie to yourself about why that is, knowing full well the truth but you just felt too proud at the moment to admit it, even if it was to yourself. Luckily for you, the bus approached before you truly lost in your thoughts and feelings.

As you sat, you couldn’t help but feel something squish in your pocket. You search to find a small piece of paper scrunched up, curious, you unscramble it and find a series of numbers. No, a number, a phone number below which was written ‘M’ with a heart next to it. Looking out of the window, you smile to yourself, excited, your heart fluttering, perhaps you are going to have to revisit your feelings sooner than you thought…..

[freakoont]

Can I request Ranpo and Dazai, Chuuya with Reader who has a lion as a pet? Like literal big lion who is really chill?

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭. 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 // 【ＳＦＷ】 // 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! Check my request page for more !

A-NOTE: I'm sorry I'm taking forever to write on these🥲 writers block got me on a chokehold canon

❝Ranpo Edogawa❞

Okay. Let's be real for a moment. This man is flabbergasted at first.

Whether you're an agency member, a client, an enemy or a civilian, he will try to avoid all contact

Although he's very good at hiding the uncertainty

Now you might be wondering, well he's doing just fine with Atsushi's ability or Karl. THATS DIFFERENT

Karl isn't a terrorizing monster that can literally commit mass murder.. maybe.

And Atsushi's ability is under control

It takes him a longggg time to actually befriend you because he's literally done all the calculations and soon realized that one stupid comment and he'll probably be fed to the lion(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

So he's actually very careful around you, which everyone has noticed.

When he does manage to realize how much calmer of an animal the lion can be, he's calmed down a little more..

Eventually it will get to the point where he's completely fine with feeding it some random snacks he'll have

But understand. He will NEVER come into physical contact with the lion.

Yes he can trust Yosano with the outcome BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE WANTS IT TO HAPPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE

If you get into a romantic relationship with Ranpo, this won't change. He'll always have the lion sleep in another room

One night, in the middle of the night, the lion jumped onto your shared bed, and Ranpo legit wanted to cry but held it in

Do not leave this man alone in a room with your lion because he will legit flip out and ignore you for the rest of the day and won't forgive you(⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠)

❝Osamu Dazai❞

I'm convinced that this man was contemplating if he wanted his death to be at the hands of your animal

But immediately put down the idea at the thought of pain

I think he'd be fascinated by your lion, such a vicious and strong animal can also be very calm

Dazai tried to use the animal as a few pranks on Kunikida, it backfired since Kunikida already knew how calm the lion was

And the lion was probably just a litttttle too lazy to help with execution as it just laid there watching Dazai get beaten the crap out of him

He's not exactly scared of the animal but will keep distance

He's used to seeing so many terrifying things in the world that a lion is not going to be one of those 'running out of the room with it near' situations

He's also used to Atsushi and his ability so yeah

Now if he got into a relationship with you..

Imagine coming home to seeing your animal all dressed up with Dazai just being like "Welcome back!" as he runs at you with wide arms

"WHAT DID YOU DO-"

You don't know how to take the situation with Dazai and your animal. He's says he's not too interested in the lion and would rather keep distance but then you'll find him snoozing against the lion like a pillow

❝Chuuya Nakahara❞

I can imagine joining the Port Mafia and Chuuya is assigned to help you with introductions or something

"hey I'm here- WHAT THE FU-"

He's 100% caught off guard and stepping back

"THATS A LION"

"yes"

But he's also gained a lot of respect towards you for having it

Now it's not a dog, he knows that much, so he won't be dancing around it with a treat in his hand

After a while I think if you gained his friendship he'd be willing to watch over the animal while you're gone

ONLY. after he's realized how much chiller the pet can be out of actual work

He was honestly a little disappointed to find out it wouldn't pounce at people immediately and start tearing them apart.. but also greatful

One time you lost the little guy and found him sitting and just staring at Chuuya who was stuck on the ceiling trying to get away from the lion

Apparently it had a strong liking towards Chuuya? You can't figure out why.. was it his appearance or maybe aura?

In secret, Chuuya has researching about lions and feeding it so the little guy has gotten attached you could say

If a relationship is established, Chuuya definitely treats the lion as his own son in a way

#1 caretaker for humans and animals canon