#do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind.

[al-n-cartoons]

As a Ben 10 fan who watched two main characters' personalities go up in flames because of “”””romance””””, I think I can explain this one. (I'm aware you spoke in jest, but this is a drum I will never stop banging.)

Okay! So! You know what a crush is? You know what a crush is.

My answer is attraction preceding interaction, and that attraction (normally sexual or romantic but occasionally platonic) is what causes the characters to want to engage. How they view each other doesn’t matter at all, whether or not they're in any way compatible doesn’t. Matter. At all. Most characters this applies to will bend over backwards or change what they claim to believe so as to maintain access to the source of their attraction, full stop.

In Ben 10 Alien Force, Gwen originally had a mutually supporting relationship (platonic, I feel like I shouldn’t have to point that out) with her cousin, whom she'd been raised alongside. A few episodes in and she's effectively disengaged from that relationship in favour of someone who repeatedly puts herself and those around her at risk. Their values do not match, their communication doesn’t match, he routinely berates and bullies the main person he knows from her life directly in front of her, but they ignore all of that because they think eachother's hot.

At one point Kevin steals the mobile home of her missing grandfather and she automatically assumes he has good intentions in spite of the fact that he has a recent and substantiated history of betraying her.

I guess my answer to the question of ‘what happens when two characters have little to no grounds for a relationship other than infatuation’ is that they either minimize their interactions while maintaining access, or they find an outlet for frustrations. In Gwen and Kevin's case, they mostly see eachother for work (patrols/fighting) and Ben is Kevin's outlet for his frustrations.

If you want an example of an… interesting contrast, take a gander at Omniverse's pairing of Ben and Kai, in which Ben arguably has no interest in his prospective romantic partner but everyone else in their lives continuously tries to force them together, effectively acting as the narrative saying “And now, they love each other :))))))”. The result of this is that the two are always at eachother's throats and are utterly vehement.

It has been posited that Ben just likes to fight, but we've seen him with previous romantic partners (Julie and the wheelchaired piano player) and know his take on relationships is a lot quieter and understated.

A counterargument could be his brief relationship with Rex, which started out incredibly adversarial, but the two weren’t on friendly terms at that point and, when they eventually came to see eachother more positively, shared only a few mild jests at best. This would serve as a case where two people did not have the narrative say “They love each other” and instead they found common ground (hobbies, values, life experiences) which they then took as a cause for friendship.

Summary: Using ‘romance’ as a substitute for character work sucks. If you're going to have infatuation play a role, regardless of what kind of relationship it is, it would be best to keep in mind the consequences of such a relationship.

a lot of stories treat romance like it makes the relationship between two characters self explanatory and to be honest it doesn’t

[no1blacksapphirefan]

I live your self aware au stuffs! I think it would be really cute to see the self aware beasts/ancients reaction to oblivious reader making a little area in the kingdom just for them. QwQ

Imagine how flustered and warm they would feel to know that the weird sky god cares about them so. Hehe!!

Also, I have no idea if anyone else does this, but the J a r you can buy... I love putting Shmilky in it or the little love tent with my own cookie. I WONDER WHAT THE COOKIES THINK OF THIS TEE HEE!! >:D

-🐰🐱 (Do you mind if I take these emojis? If you don't allow anon emojis, that's okay!!!)

RIAESJDROINOSGSPF TYSM FOR Y'ALLS KIND WORDS!! I honestly never thought my silly Self-Aware AU thoughts would get as many notes as it ended up getting. Very thankful/grateful for all of you.

🐰🐱 anon, ofc you can take those emojis! :D Very honoured to already have anons honestly. As for the 2nd anon, here's your Self-Aware Pitaya Dragon :3 I apologise if they're OOC </3

(Reader isn't aware that they are aware) ((More romantic-ish I think but not strictly romantic))

Pitaya Dragon is honoured. And completely in love with however you ended up decorating the place. If I recall their story correctly, they did used to rule over Hollyberry Kingdom or something like that until well Hollberry came back and defeated them. So to have, practically a god. Someone higher then the witches technically, make an entire area dedicated to them. Just for them. Because you love them. It's just hell yeah!! If they could, they'd pay you back ten fold, unfortunately they can't...perhaps if they found a way out...hmmm, they wonder how you feel about free dragon back rides.

As for the jar, me thinks Pitaya Dragon would sulk if you ever put them in it. Don't get me wrong, they probably do know it's just your silly quirks and weird ways to show how much you love them but they want to stretch their wings!! They would love the love tent though. Bonus points if the cookie you put them with is similar to yourself. Closest thing they're ever gonna get.

Pure Vanillas heart might explode. He saw what you were doing, happily tapping away at your device as you were decorating parts of the kingdom, then when it updated he just saw an area that seemed to be made just for him. And his seemed to be proven right as you carefull picked him up and placed him there. Lord is he flustered, he can't show you that. What if you think the game is buggy and delete the game? He tries his best to contain himself but as soon as you leave he can't help but burst into a blushing mess.

You? Favouring him this much to the point of making an area dedicated to him? He is so happy and content, not even Shadow Milk can disrupt his mood now. I don't think he'd mind being put in a jar, if it makes you smile he supposes he can deal with it. He'd be incredibly happy if you put your cookie (Again assuming it looks like you) in the love tent. If only he could stay there...

White Lily feels almost unworthy of it at first. How could you treat her so kindly after all she's done? And you KNOW what she did. You know what happened to her...you know the reason. And sure maybe that's why, you understand her a bit more then any other cookie but, she still did horrible thing.

It takes her time getting used to you and how you show'd your affection. But eventually she starts going toward the area you made just for her more. Almost excited when you happily put her in the jar (almost) and content when you put your cookie self and her in the love tent. It took her awhile to get used to but she's honestly so grateful someone like you loves her as much as you do. She's honoured.

HollyBerry loves it hands down. She is the Light of Passion of course, she's excited as you finish making the area for her. Quickly running over and staying there, to check out every single thing you put in there that either matches her, reminds you of her or just something that's in her general kingdom decorating category. If she could spend all her time there she would, unfortunately she can't, you need her to cut down wood.

But as soon as she's done and you don't need her for the work anymore? She's back to hanging around there, talking the other ancients ears off as she talks about how kind hearted you are. She loves your silly gestures of love. If putting her in that jar is you showing how much you love her? Hells yeah, she's up for it.

Put her in the love tent with your cookie? Oh she's hugging the life out of that cookie, it's the closest thing she'll get to hugging you.

Dark Cacao is a bit scared at first at the amount of affection you've been giving him. And when he sees you make a section of your kingdom based on him? For him? He doesn't know what to say, he wants to pay you back and if he could he would as soon as he could. But all he could do now was stare at that area.

He's still a bit scared/concerned at your displays of affection. Confused on why putting him in a jar is one of your ways but he supposes that if it meant hearing your giddy smile he can deal with it. When you first started putting your cookie self and his in the love tent, he's a bit tense. (He's scared of affection/hj) but he grows used to it, almost expecting it eventually. Even if it's not you, being in the presence of your cookie is enough for him. He hopes one day he'll be able to see you in person and not through a screen.

Golden Cheese oh she loves it. When you finish making that area she stares at it before looking at you like "Is this for meeeeeee?" She is so honoured to have so much affection from you to the point you'd make a special section in your busy kingdom for her. She just wishes she could pay you back somehow.

Such affection deserves to be repaid of course!! Though she is confused on the act of putting her in that jar. Perhaps it's a custom you do where ever you are, well even though she'd prefer to walk around, she can stay in the jar for a bit just for you.

She loves holding your cookie in the love tent, no she doesn't care that it's not you. You made it, from your own hands and wishes. So in turn it's very special to her. She sometimes follows your cookie around the kingdom as if something were to happen with them. Can never be too careful.

Shadow Milk is absolutely thrilled upon seeing the section you've made for him. It has everything he looks, shucks you know him so well. As much as other cookies tend to ensure you think they're still code...Shadow Milk doesn't care too too much, besideeessss. Who's to say that his compliments to that area aren't just his code hm??

He is Shadow Milk, he can break the 4th wall a few times right?...hey why are you putting him in a jar!? He does not like being in the jar, you are so lucky he likes you. If it were anyone else he'd be banging on that screen of yours. Sigh, the exceptions he's made for you. (He doesn't mind, your laughs are what he enjoys listening to anyways)

Gets so giddy upon being placed in the love tent with "you". Gosh he finds how you show affection so nice. Hm...if you like placing your cookie and himself in the love tent, then perhaps he'll just have to hurry with figuring out how to get out. He'll make sure you'll be able to experience the real deal soon and not just see it.

Burning Spice he could kiss you if he could. He loves the new area you gave him just for him. Probably a rare moment where he'd show a small bit of blush at this act of affection from you. He's so used to your other displays of affection, placing him in a jar (He wants to break out), tapping the hell out of him on his cookie profile, just holding him in your kingdom??

But when he sees this act of affection? You truly are higher than the witches, he loves spending his time there and bringing his minions/children along with him. Parading it around like it's the best area ever (it is...to him)

The best way he can thank you right now is put down his axe and spend some quality time with "you" as you place your cookie and himself in the love tent. He isn't sure if that cookie only looks like you or perhaps shares the same interests as you. But he'll talk to it like it's you. Can't get you suspicious, that'll ruin the surprise for when he finally escapes.

Mystic Flour cookie almost smiles at it. She is the Light of Apathy after all. But other cookies around her can tell this is one of the things that she does enjoy, even if she doesn't seem like it.

You can tell with how much she ends up walking over to the section of your kingdom. You not knowing that she's aware. Often make jokes to your friend that she loves it and cares for it. You don't know how much of that is true. If even a spec of dirt gets on that area, she'll stare coldly at the other cookie as she cleans it up quickly.

She doesn't seem to care all too much about being placed with a jar, she doesn't get why others care so much either. To her it's just more confinement but just for a short amount of time. As long as she isn't trapped their like she was in the tree, you have no problems.

She does find it almost amusing when you place her and your cookie in the love tent, almost flattered (...almost) but she has no trouble against it either, she likes the silence between herself and your cookie. Looking forward to when she can do this with you in your own world.

Black Sapphire (can't forget my pookie) oho, you raised his ego a bit. An epic cookie getting such a dedicated area? Sure epics are still sought after in the game, but with the amount of rarities above him? He can't help but feel satisfied with how much you decorated that area for him. Bonus points if you have the other ancients/beasts but he's the one with the area.

He spends a good amount of time there, bringing your cookie alongside him. Almost giving a tour as if you didn't literally make it. Though in his defense, that cookie isn't technically you.

Do NOT put him in a jar/hj Whilst he does enjoy your giggles of delight, please let him out. There's only so much time one cookie can spend in a jar before they grow tired of it. You're lucky he loves you...

Oh? Putting him in the love tent with your cookie? Alright, all is forgiven, he'll bombard your cookie with thousands rumours in hopes to impress you, or at the very least, practice. He knows his master is looking for a way out, and he'll be right behind him when he does.

.

.

.

Would've added Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt but they aren't released yet and I don't know too too much on them </3

I hope this satisfies you anons though! :3 Wrote this in the middle of the like night so I'll probably fix it when I get the chance after I wake up hehe

- #1 BLACK SAPPHIRE FAN/LISTENER OUT

[pythonmoth]

cw: FLUFF. social anxiety. self-imposed exposure therapy (pls never do that!). cute and then not so cute, but cute again! panic attack. dissociation. reader is traumatized and inconsistent. implied sexual activity, nothing explicit. simon is a whiny little bitch. slightly styled text.

primary simon x f!reader. poly tf141.

word count: 4k

First | Last | Next

Having breakfast with Johnny, with the team, wasn’t something you realized you’ve been missing.

It fits right in your heart, filling a hole you didn’t know has been empty.

So many years have gone by and little things like this usually go ignored until you’re forced to be aware of them and their absence. Maybe it’s therapy; maybe it’s that you’ve gotten used to being alone after nine months, only relying on your brother for a few months and then being on your own, but breakfast with the people you’ve called your family for nearly ten years now, it’s something your body accepted as necessary once you got it back, only then understanding how much you’ve been missing it.

Once everybody’s tummy is filled with tea, coffee and good food, they take turns to shower, one by one leaving to get ready until it’s only Simon and you. He looks far more relaxed than the day before, his eyes warm as he nods when you talk, telling him about how you’ve been planning to remodel a little, maybe change the paint of the exterior or even add some flowers to your backyard. Now that you’re forced to stay home, there are things that you want to change so it looks prettier when you come back. 

You don’t miss the way his right cheek jumps, as if he’s trying not to grimace; you know it isn’t a happy memory for anybody, but you’re glad he isn’t trying to shut it down, and merely accepting it as it is. Same as you are.

“Do you know if Tommy is available? I might have to call him up, since I can’t reach everything on my own. He’s the closest one to a professional I know, anyway” you hum, your fingers entertained as they rip apart a sugar packet, your eyes not leaving it for a moment.

“My brother? I think so. I can ask him to contact you” Simon mumbles. You look up when you notice how unhappy he sounds. He’s… pouting.

“What?”

Simon frowns, seemingly unsure if he should speak up or not. In the end, just when you’re starting to overthink and overanalyze everything you’ve said and done to get him to look like his, he finally looks up.

“I’m… I am available. I could help you” he grunts. “I’ve helped him at work before and I can get it done as quickly as he can” Simon rushes, as if he couldn’t help it. “With the right tools, perhaps even faster”.

When you go quiet, he shuts up. You’re hyper aware of his eyes on you as you look down at the ruined sugar packet in your fingers, biting down on your lip. It’s not that you don’t know he helps Tommy sometimes, it just felt like a safer question.

In the back of your mind, you think back to something your therapist mentioned as a possibility, something that could help you with the PTSD, though she said it wasn’t time nor a good idea for you yet. That was five months ago and, really, neither of you mentioned it again. Maybe…

Exposure therapy. It should be okay.

After all, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just Simon.

“Wait, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I can just call him and—”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay” you interrupt him, your eyes twinkling a little. “If you’re free… we could start today, buy a few things. Please?”

And so, when the morning comes to an end, Price, Gaz and Johnny say their goodbyes, only Gaz and Price coming over to kiss your cheek and pat your head. Johnny gives you a bright smile and a promise to come over later. Price makes sure you remember his number, just in case. Gaz cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead loudly before he walks out the door with Price.

Johnny kisses Simon briefly before they leave, Gaz playfully gagging behind them. You see him, however, getting nudged by Price, both of them looking quite content; surely, there was a conversation you weren’t part of. The sun is high up as the car disappears from sight, some part of your heart wishing they could stay longer, but this will be good.

You hope so, at least.

Then, it’s only Simon and you.

It takes you fifteen minutes to get ready, and another ten minutes for you to stop looking in the mirror, reminding yourself that you’re not going alone. You don’t have to double check behind you, you’ve nothing to fear. But, the reminder that is Simon who’s coming with you, brings an unwelcome feeling at the base of your spine.

It’s somewhat irrational, you’re aware. But it’s still scary, and it doesn’t make it less real.

Taking a deep breath, you nod to yourself in the mirror, and step back, hastily putting away your makeup and promising yourself you’re going to clean the few-weeks-old dust from it when you’re back.

Your guts flip when you realize the sun’s already coming down, and it makes you feel insane that you can’t even focus on things like that; why would you be unsure of how long you’ve spent spacing out? That’s something else to mention the therapist, maybe.

Simon’s waiting in the living room when you come down, his face relaxed and his eyes fixed on his phone. His leg betrays him, however, because you can tell he’s been waiting, anxious. When he hears you, Simon gets up, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything and gives you a thumbs up, gingerly walking towards you.

“You ready?” he asks, his expression inviting, as if giving you an out. He looks just as anxious as you feel, and that makes you feel a little better.

Reaching into your bag, you make sure you have your knife and the spare knife, before nodding at him. As you both make your way out and into the car, you also pat the left pocket of your jeans. 

Pocket knife is a must, sometimes.

Buying the paint isn’t nearly as boring as you thought it would be. 

Simon makes it his mission to keep you entertained, easily reading the anxiety in your body language; he talks.

He talks a lot. And quite easily, much to your surprise.

Simon tells you why the lighter painting is better, and why you shouldn’t go for the darker one in certain places of the house, and why grey is a hard no if you want your house to look good. The black surgical mask is almost funny with how much it moves over his mouth, but you focus on him, and soon enough, you’re less worried, talking more, smiling and laughing at his awful jokes.

Eventually, in the middle of one of Simon’s morbid comments —"Look, that ashtray would be a funny gift for Johnny, if you ask me. We could make him fit in there later. Do you think it would be cheaper if we tell them why we want it?"—, you find the perfect shade for the exterior of your house. Simon isn’t convinced, you can see it, but he doesn’t complain, only crossing his arms and tilting his head, as if calculating in his brain how much you’ll need. He’s been at your house many times, and knows it as well as you do.

Simon’s the one who asks for the paint and a few other tools, since you’re already aware he won’t let you carry it anyway. You hand Simon your credit card, and turn away, distracted with little light bulbs of soft white light that would look pretty good in your bedroom, so you don’t notice he doesn’t use your card to pay for it, but his instead. He doesn’t tell you either as he hands the plastic back to you and carries the bucket and the rest of the big tools to the car.

Just like a few days ago, you find yourself checking your surroundings, especially now that it’s dark. You keep the car locked as you check the back seats with your phone, making Simon wait a moment. After making sure it’s safe, you pat your left pocket to feel the knife there and quickly get inside, finally allowing him in as well. Maybe your therapist is right and you’re still jumpy, but it is dangerous out there anyway, and there’s nothing wrong with being paranoid careful.

The drive back home is pretty calm, your shoulders finally relaxing after nearly two hours of being on edge. Simon’s music blasts on the speakers, a little too loud to be safe, but you need the distraction, and the streets are pretty lonely at night so you only focus on it, mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re home and carrying the little bag with tools, which is the only thing Simon will let you grab, and get inside. Not even bothering to turn back, you lock the door behind you and take your shoes off, letting Simon take the plastic bag from your hands so he can set everything by the back door.

“I’ll be up early. If you wanna help, make sure you’re up by 7am” Simon grumbles, yawning as he takes the mask off.

“I haven’t woken up at 7am in like… nine months. That’s too early”.

“Tough shit”.

With a happy feeling in your chest, you say goodnight and go up to your room, leaving Simon to get comfortable in the guest room. Neither of you mention it, but it’s implicit he won’t be staying in your room like he would if this were before. The stairs creak slightly when you pause, your hand over the handrail, looking down as he seems to hesitate before waving at you, making his way to the room.

Out of habit, and maybe feeling a little anxious, you lock the door before taking your heavy jacket off. Getting ready to sleep alone feels a bit odd now that Gaz isn’t laying in your bed, but soon enough, you’re fresh and clean, and ready to sleep.

A loud crashing sound makes you jump up, face wrinkled from the pillow and heart pounding in your chest. You make your way downstairs, nearly tripping over your bare feet, one of the long knives in your hand as you try to focus on whatever is happening. The sun hits your face from the back door, watching as Simon hisses and holds the bucket of paint up, a big splash of colour all over your wooden floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” you grunt, using the knife to scratch your forehead.

Simon looks up, his eyes widening as he takes in your appearance. He didn’t think he’d ever be given the opportunity to see you so messy in the morning, but here you are. He clears his throat and starts scraping up the paint before it dries. “I didn’t seal it and I kinda dropped it. It’s fine, I’ll clean it quickly”. He falters a little when he sees the knife in your hand, a little amused. “Are you gonna stab me for messing with your floors?”

“Maybe. Don’t tempt me” you huff, your shoulders relaxing. “Be back in ten. Don’t you dare use the skyscraper ladder without me”.

“Mhm”.

“You’re gonna break your neck if you do”.

“Heard ya” Simon grumbles, his lips curling up. “I’ll wait for you”.

The tone in his words makes your heart tremble, but your face betrays nothing. Excited to work on your house, and hoping the little challenge you're putting yourself through doesn’t end badly, you rush to get ready.

The toughest part of painting with Simon is getting the job done.

Simon doesn’t move until the edges are perfectly done. He accidentally touched something he shouldn’t have? He’s gonna spend as long as necessary to get the paint off. You’re doing it gently, slowly, so he doesn’t take the brush from you? You’re taking too long! And if you let him do it himself, then why are you sitting there all pretty while he does it all? In the end, you give him an annoyed look and he calms down.

But then, when the edges are done, and you have to use the roller? Now that’s fun.

Since it’s easier, he lets you do it yourself, one of his hands on your lower back so you don’t trip —if your heart is trembling a little, that’s none of his business. Though you’re not entirely sure if it's anxiety, or excitement—. Simon’s smiling now, guiding you with a lot more patience, chuckling next to your ear when you accidentally get paint over your hands, and some tiny, little drops on his hair.

“I’ll make something to eat after we finish the first layer” Simon promises, guiding your arm with his warm hand; a simple caress from your elbow to your wrist as he points to the little places that are missing some love, as he calls it.

It doesn’t take you both long to finish the first layer, though it is more than you expected, since Simon kept coming back to perfect the edges and some little mistakes you couldn’t even notice, but you appreciate his enthusiasm, so even if it can be a little annoying, you don’t really complain.

Simon cooks something “simple” that allows you both to take two hours off, letting the paint dry properly. With both of you working together, his movements less sudden than they were the last morning —especially with the knife, which you can appreciate—, you end up just eating on your feet, both of you in the kitchen, not even using the plates and eating straight from the pot. 

Feeling lazy to clean up after this, you reach out for a single glass, lifting your eyebrow at him. Simon nods, taking it from you to pour some cold water for the two of you.

You can tell his eyes are fixed on the little mark your lip balm leaves on the glass and the way he drinks from the exact same place, but you’re easily distracted by food, so it doesn’t cross your mind to call him out for it. It’s something he used to do a lot back then, so you’re not surprised, but… it’s a little funny, honestly.

A few hours later, Simon’s on your ass again. The stupid edges are making both of your eyes twitch and your annoyance grows with each comment about how you’re doing it wrong. He isn’t even mean, but it’s so fucking annoying it makes your blood boil, your guts churning with murderous intent.

When he fucking whines that you’re not doing it as straight as it should be, you just can’t do it anymore. Your hand reaches down to the painting tray and, when your palm is dripping, you don’t give him a moment to understand what you’re doing before you place your hand right across his face, paint getting to his hair, his forehead, his nose and temples.

“Whom do you serve?”

Simon stares at you in shock.

You have exactly two seconds to run away when you see him reaching down for one of the brushes. 

He catches up to you in just a moment, the cold brush getting paint all over your old shirt, as if he were slashing a sword across your back. You shriek, still trying to get away, but Simon’s determined now, an arm wrapping around your waist to hold you against him. “You little shit” he grunts, amusement dripping from his voice as clearly as the paint does from the brush.

“Wait!” you yelp, laughing when Simon runs the cold paint across your face, forcing your lips close for a moment as the coarse bristles run over your cheeks.

“See? Better” he laughs, his hand splaying on your stomach before he finally lets go. Your skin tingles when his warmth slips away, but then you turn around to huff at him, and notice the bright, rare smile splitting Simon’s face in two, so you end up tackling him to the ground instead.

You’re rewarded with his flushing face, a loud bark of laughter coming from deep in his belly as he doesn’t even try to stop you. You scoop the dripping paint from your cheeks with your fingers and wipe your hands clean on his hair, his shirt. The paint seems to glow over his flushed cheeks.

A loud yelp of surprise echoes in your backyard when Simon easily flips you around, one of his hands pinning your wrists to the soft grass as he uses the brush to paint ridiculously big dots all over your shirt and arms. Your entire body shakes with amusement, laughing with no inhibitions, until you try to free your wrists from his grip.

And you c a n ’t mo ve.

Your mind fills with awful memories, with pain, fea r, salt wa ter, and pain. 

Pain. Pa in. One finger nail. Five fi ngerna ils.

Th r ee toe na il s.

You suddenly freeze, zoning out. You don’t even notice Simon’s holding you up, carrying you back inside as he mumbles, whispering soft promises. His hands are gentle and warm as he wipes the paint off your face, doing his best not to get much water on your skin, but you aren’t listening, your body is rock solid and your jaw is so tight he can’t even make sure you’re not biting down on your tongue.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed.

Your skin is clean, and there’s a soft towel under you that’s now a little dirty with paint; you’re still wearing the same clothes from this morning. It takes you a little moment to remember why you’re here, and look down at your wrists. 

Right.

The sound of water running from downstairs makes you get up, taking the towel off your bed. You set it over your chair by the desk and walk downstairs, your cheeks warm with embarrassment when you see him in the kitchen. The lights are low so you can’t really see his face, but you can see his slumping shoulders, the tension on his nape and the twitching of his mouth.

“Simon?”

He nearly drops the glass when he hears your voice, but he manages to catch it just in time, freezing as he stares up at you.

He’s still covered in paint, including the mark of your hand across his face. The sight of him looking so worried and still giving you those big puppy eyes behind all that completely dry paint…

“I’m sorry”.

Simon’s lips part, the words heavy on his tongue. His eyebrows seem unsure if they should be surprised or angry, because they jump and pinch together at the same time. He lets the glass aside and walks over to you, stopping just a few steps from you, his shoulders trembling.

“Sorry? You’re— sorry? What the hell are you even apologizing for? That was my fault. I scared you, again” he mumbles, tears welling up in his eyes, even if he desperately tries to stop it, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It slipped my mind and I fucked up”.

You reach up to touch his shoulder, but Simon steps back, flinching away from you. Your heart breaks, your lips parting in surprise, but Simon’s too gone with guilt that he doesn’t realize it. Distantly, you wonder if this is what he’s felt this whole time. You wonder how many times you’ve broken his heart by now.

“I’ll just— I’ll call Tommy tomorrow. I’ll tell him to help you with the rest, so you don’t have to be around me for now. That will be easier” Simon mumbles, mostly to himself, his eyes darting from one place to another, avoiding your eyes. “Just let me grab my stuff. I can leave in ten minutes. I won’t bother you, I promise, I—”

Taking a quick step forward, your arms wrap around his middle, closing your eyes as you navigate through the complicated feelings growing in your chest. A little bit of fear as you feel him so close again, the panic still not gone from your system, but the love makes you weak on the knees; even like that, you don’t let go of him, your arms tightening around him when you hear him breathe shakily.

“I’m alright” you whisper, your fingers curling on his shirt, almost pleading. “Don’t leave”.

Simon’s heartbeat pounds against your ear, his arms still hovering over you, hesitant. And scared.

“Please”.

That’s all it takes for Simon to sink to his knees, gently bringing you down with him, his arms never restraining you, merely holding you close. His hands splay across your back, your sides. You grip onto him harder when you feel his tears running down your shoulders, shifting until you’re straddling his lap, his face buried in your chest as he cries in complete silence, your fingers lost in his hair.

“I love you. I’m sorry” he whispers, his voice muffled with your skin. You think he’s going to pull back, but his hands only curl slightly on your arms, your sides, one of your thighs, as if he were grounding himself.

As if he couldn’t believe you were holding him again.

The ball of feelings in your chest unravels until you’re able to slowly identify them as you both hold each other right there in the middle of the kitchen. His hands brush over your back, fingernails scratching softly over your skin, and you’re reminded of good memories, of better times; of the moment you realize you were in love with him, of the ridiculous moment he asked you to be together. Of the night Johnny joined you for the first time, of the instant you understood your own feelings, Johnny's, and Simon’s. 

You’re reminded of the night you saw Price and Simon share a fervent kiss before disappearing into the Captain’s room, more than once. And then when you saw Gaz and Price do the same over the years, even if they never freely spoke of it. 

The memories of that experimental kiss with Price, back in your first year with the team haunts your memory for a moment; both of you had paused after a while and grimaced. In the end, Price had given you his chocolate and you gave him your tea flavored mochi, the kiss forgotten and never spoken of again. 

At some point, your arms relax around Simon, but he doesn’t seem in the mood to pull away, even if his grip isn’t even too tight. It takes a little bit of nudging, a few whispered words, but he finally pulls back, his face puffy and slightly wet with tears, staring at you.

“Sleep with me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, it seems; his hesitation appears to be long gone as his arms easily hold you up, calmly throwing you over his shoulder. That would’ve broken the tender moment, if it weren’t for the warm hand over your back holding you still, and the shaky fingers gripping onto your thigh again as he walks up to your room.

Simon hesitates, but you kick back on your door, hurrying him up. Once inside, he sets you down, waiting by the door.

“Are you... expecting me to kick you out?”

“Yes”.

Your lips curl up, forever glad he never holds back with you, and motion him to get in. 

The anxiety doesn’t magically leave your body, and you’re still awfully terrifying of him being able to just restrain you so easily again, but… progress.

It’s progress when he curses and rushes down to grab his clean clothes and a towel, asking you to let him take a shower after you’re done.

It’s progress when Simon lays in your bed, body stiff and hands shaky as he waits for you to turn the lights off.

It’s progress when you both awkwardly find a good position to sleep.

It’s progress when you wake up in the morning with his arms wrapped around you, your legs tangled, and one of your hands under his tshirt, warm against the bare skin of his back.

And it’s progress when you’re greeted with a small, sleepy smile from him before his eyes even focus properly on you.

anyway, simon's autistic bc i am autistic and he's a whiny little bitch perfectionist!

henlo. how are we feeling? progress!!! progress!!! PROGRESS!!!

› buy me a coffee ♡

if things go well, we have 8 chapters left :)

+18 people read here: yes, price and simon still fuck nasty from time to time. nobody gasped, nobody surprised.

taglist I: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen @hyunjaebaby @jillvalentinesrealwife @sodavrr @kneelforloki @vioxsoo @l4vstrr @leon-thot-kennedy @t3a-bag @dotmistbird @littlezarp @eclipsedcherry @codeseven @babydoll-143 @viennakarma @exitingmusic @lockofspades

[slapintoaslimjim]

Can i request best friend katsuki finds out we are dating shoto BUT he has had a crush on us since 1st year of ua (can we be in 2nd year in this?)

Absolutely love love LOVE your fics <33

a/n: oh holy shit a possible tension/angst fic? “everybody gotta die, including me” or wtv cory said because angst WRECKS me but yk what? HELL YEAH! also thank you soooo much for your love and support ! <3

let it happen

now playing: bad religion by Frank Ocean

fem reader is implied ! angst is the only warning 2nd year based so this is post war arc!

Katsuki may have never been the best with words, or displaying his emotions, or even identifying them as a matter of fact, but after the war he knew one thing for sure. He didn’t just like you- no.

He loved you.

Seeing his own classmates battered on the battlefield during the war did more on him mentally than he thought it would. but what really affected him the most was the bloodcurdling scream of his name you let out when his body hit the ground after shigaraki basically destroyed him.

he couldn’t even see anything. he couldn’t hear anything else; but he knew there was a lot of noise. but the last thing he remembered hearing was you. your scream of pure horror.

so if the whole war arc wasn’t already enough mental baggage, why did the universe decide to be so unfair and make his heart feel so much more heavier than it already is?

sure, katsuki pushed you away the first few months at UA, he did with everyone. he was only there to be a hero, didn’t want to mingle with people who he thought were below him. he didn’t think he had time for all of that.

keyword; was. not is.

because quickly, during katsuki’s time as a first year at UA he made friends with his classmates, even rebuilt his friendship with Izuku. but you? you had a mind of your own that you weren’t even aware about. you found a way to sliver into his heart, soften edges around him, and lighten his day a little bit without even noticing it.

but after eavesdropping on a conversation he had no business listening in on, katsuki is tempted the universe is just trying to give him karmic lesson after karmic lesson of some sort.

“but you and todoroki are so cute together!” uraraka, ever the supportive best friend she was, said with an adorable eager smile to you as you talk to her about you and todoroki.

he felt his heart drop to his stomach at those words and suddenly the popsicle he wanted was unappetizing. he started listening in further to your conversation with uraraka subtly from the common room kitchen; forcing himself to look busy before just straight up leaving since he felt the air clawing out of his throat with every passing gushing word you spoke.

your happiness mattered so much to him, but goddamnit he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish it was him you were gushing over instead of todoroki.

you were never his. and he was never yours.

and that fact pained him so terribly much, and affected him more than he wanted to. the one person he finally let his guard down around, opened up to, gone to someone else.

“kats?” your voice cut through his racing thoughts, where he sat on the dorm rooftop watching the sunset; this was your activity, your spot, where the two of you found a routine in debriefing your days while watching the sunset.

and god, katsuki couldn’t ignored you even if he wanted to. and he really and truly wanted to. but his heart spoke before his mind could and he turned towards you.

“yeah?” he replied with his usual softer gruff that he had when he was around you.

you made your way closer to katsuki, sitting beside him as you two usually would do before speaking again. “you’ve been.. distant as of recently. is everything okay?” you ask softly and carefully, not wanting to sound accusatory.

katsuki pulled his gaze away from you with a scoff under his breath. of course you would notice his behavioral changes, you always did. both of you did with each other’s moods.

“s nothin” katsuki replies to you with a head shake and a soft chuckle; the soft chuckle aimed at himself for how pathetic he feels like he’s being right now. “don’t worry about it”

“suki you know you don’t have to hi-“ you didn’t even get a chance to finish before katsuki cut you off.

“y/n.” katsuki starts firmly with a sigh before looking over at you. your soft beautiful features, and worried expression. you have a boyfriend, shoto todoroki even, why were you so worried about him?

“i’ll be fine. just give me time to get over myself” katsuki speaks softly, barely above a whisper. you’ve never seen him like this before, so distant and obviously mentally battling something.

you let his words simmer in the air for a moment, resting your head on his shoulder. katsuki mentally debates the want to push you away or get up and move away for the sake of his own sanity, his own stability, and maybe the hurt won’t be so bad anymore. but he doesn’t. he lets your head rest on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like he usually does. it felt so natural, so normal for him to do.

“i’m not going anywhere, and im here whenever your ready to talk” you spoke softly, looking out at the sunset in the distance as katsuki rests his head against yours.

he inhales softly “i know” he says. and lets himself believe it. that no matter what; your relationship status, or the uncomfortable and painful emptiness that only you could fill in him, that you aren’t going anywhere.

a/n: hiya! this ruined me so i had to end it on at least a sort of bright light. there might be a possible part 2 depending on what people think of this and if i get another ask/comment on how i should write it!

[meathunt]

Vampire dads idea

A bit of a look into your dynamic with Thomas

TW emotional distress, light yandere themes

------------------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.------------------

Thomas was absolutely delighted with you, even if for now you mostly just napped and woke up to eat, you were just an adorable baby to him, sleepily mumbling words and questions that he ignored as babbling.

The first weeks he noticed a behavior that even if at first, he really didn’t mind, started to annoy him when it didn’t disappeared with time. Every single time any of them tried to carry you out of the nest you freaked out, taking a long time to calm you down for you to even stop crying.

He was glad you started to see your room, your home, as a safe place, but he was pissed it was only your room, he didn’t want you to only find comfort inside your room, he wanted that your main place of comfort and safety will be your fathers arms, whenever wherever, and that was final.

He at first let Elias try to take care of it, but if he could say, his dear husband was way too soft with you, bending at the first sight of tears or feelings of discomfort.

So it was his turn, and he had to be… creative, in his solution.

------------------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.------------------

You woke up out of sorts, these weeks you felt that you slept more than you were awake, but slowly you could feel you were able to stay conscious longer and longer. Today you were in the middle of true awareness, the other half of your brain started to feel nervous, and much to your dismay it started to wake up faster than you, looking for something.

As the panic started to rise and tears formed in your eyes, you also noticed that you were alone in the nest, scared chirps rising in volume.

You heard a voice answer, looking around in the room you still didn’t find anyone, calling out once again, the voice, Thomas, answered you “I’m outside baby”

Why wasn’t he here? Someone usually was always near when you needed something.

The small voice in your head panicked even more at the unusual behavior, did they got tired of you? Saw you as a nuisance and abandoned you? Do they hate you now?

You couldn’t have been crying in the nest for more than 5 minutes, maybe less, but it felt like a century, the thoughts of why was no one near you eating up at your mind, making you feel more miserable by the second.

You wanted to run outside and look for them, so the stupid voice in your head could finally shut up, so they get rid of this void, this all-consuming fear of being alone, but you were too scared, for some reason the thought of leaving the nest was terrifying, like something dangerous was waiting outside.

Only bad things happened when you went outside after all, you and the small voice in your head knew that.

But still no one came, just voices outside telling you to come to them, but you were scared.

So so scared…

------------------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.------------------

He could feel your distress in the bond and he was sure that Elias could too, he had to order him to go out for the day, as he was sure the big softie would crumble at the first cry you made.

He also wasn’t really fond of you being in distress, even if your crying face was adorable to him, but you needed to learn that that place didn’t held the safety and comfort you were looking for if THEY weren’t in there. This was just the quickest way to get you to understand that.

After all, the compulsion from your side of the bond will force you to accept this sooner or later, and he had no issue repeating this little exercise if needed.

Sitting on a chaise in the living room while reading a book, but not really paying attention to it, he was thinking of what else ge could do to get rid of this bad habit of yours, when he heard the crying get closer, your broken little calls getting louder and after some time, the door opened.

You were standing there in your fluffy pajamas, pale face red from crying so much, even your voice was starting to get a little bit cracked by the volume that your cries had, wet cheeks even while you tried to clean your own tears.

Even in this heart breaking image you were just so lovely ♡

“Is there something wrong darling?” He asked in a calm manner, you just cried harder, trying to talk between sobs and wails, trying to be able to form a sentence, failing miserably and adding up to your annoyance and stress at the situation.

“Aww, it’s okay, papa is here” He closed his book and left it in a table near him “Won't you come to me baby? Its just some more steps”

You didn’t waste any more time and went to him as fast as you could, almost falling twice in the way as you haven’t really used your legs in a bit. When you were close enough, he opened his arms, letting you fall on him.

Your sweaty hands grabbing at his shirt, face mashed against his neck, crying your heart out, the small chirps desperately falling from your lips, and finally he made the answering call that you were looking for, a deep rumble from his chest, mixed with a content purring, the voice in you head instantly relaxed, even if it didn't calm down, the wordless conversation that you guys had being interrupted every now and then by your sobs, and him praising you for coming to him on your own.

".th... hom.." You cough a little, feeling like your throat was too raw to really speak, after a bit yo decided to go for a simpler word "...d-dad?"

His smile grew at the name, good, you finally started to use his correct tittle "Yes my love?"

You stumbled a bit, but between sniffles you asked if you guys could go back to the room, you were still feeling antsy.

He smiled at you, but it didn't reach his eyes "No" he said, you felt your heart get squeezed, tears once again slipping from your eyes, but before you could say another thing, he started to run his hand through your hair "I want to stay here today"

"But!-" you tried to push against his hand but he forcefully pushed your head down, keeping you in place

" I already said my piece darling, end of the discussion, you could go if you feel like it, but I won't" He was lying, he would not let you do as you pleased, but he also knew that making it look like it was your decision would make the lesson stick better in your mind.

You quickly shaked your head, grabbing harder his shirt, honestly you felt it wasn't even physically possible to get away from him, the mere idea made you sniffle.

He continued to run his fingers throughout your hair, and softly humming a lullaby to you. You wanted to be upset, you knew you were upset, but having him near, his scent, his voice, his presence, it relaxed you further into his hold, your instincts glad to be near your maker, softly purring too, you hated how happy you were, but even that didn't last, as you ended up sleeping again, right on his chest.

Thomas decided that this little exercise was a success. Maybe he should do it again~♡

------------------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.------------------

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 41

(Vil- though not fully Overblotted- still has several visual changes to his coloration and appearance due to the intense presence of blot that had been in his system from his potion. He is able to explain most of it away for those who question him, but those who were present in the classroom when it happened know the truth. They are too loyal and earnest to speak that truth for Vil's sake and the Human's sake.)

Warnings; jealous dragon, fluff and theories, Clay is the only truly aware platonic yandere, Dragon, Harpy, Drider, Vampire bat, hellcat, mention of Cervitaur, mention of Raiju,

~~~~~~~~

"What happened?"

Standing before you- with his eyes wide and his entire body stiff- was a very unhappy and stressed Dragon. Malleus had been trying to keep himself calm with the aid of Lilia, but seeing your exhausted state sent him spiraling. The tell-tale black ink-like coloration at the ends of your fingers, lips, and hair told him you had more than just a brush with blot.

"Blot potion out of control. We're both good now, but we need a snack and some rest. Papa Hades said he would be up with something for us to snack on soon."

"..."

Malleus stood in silence, the tip of his tail flicking angrily and the low roll of thunder sounded in the distance. It often took a moment or two for the Dragon to fully process what was being said to him, and it often took your calmly stated words just a moment longer than most. You had been touched by blot and he was furious to think such a vile liquid could even have a hold on you for seconds, let alone long enough to stain your flesh.

"... Blot potion?"

"Yeah. A bad idea that became a dangerous opponent. It's sealed up now and Papa Hades said he would be dealing with it later. For now, I think Vil and I need a bit of a rest."

The trip back to your dorm had been a long one, or at least it felt so much longer to you and Vil given the prior events. Luckily Rook and Silver- after pulling themselves together- straightened up and carried the both of you. You were put on Silver's back while Vil was on Rook's back. Sebek, professor Clay, and Papa Hades led your group back to Ramshackle, all the while ensuring that any ne'er-do-wells knew to keep their distance.

Now you all were looking for a bit of rest, and Malleus was likely to panic upon fully realizing what took place. You weren't exactly keen to argue with the Dragon and you knew complete fallout would occur if he ever learned you had kissed Vil in order to give the blot potion easy access to your body. Though you could have likely done it a different way, it was the only thing you could think of to encourage the blot potion out of Vil and into you fast enough to save the Harpy.

"Tsuno, I know you aren't happy about it, but it happened and is over now. All that matters is we are back safe and sound. Right?"

"..."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not going to classes tomorrow. Well, Vil won't be either after tonight's events, so you can stick around with us tomorrow if you feel like skipping a class or two."

This made the Dragon perk up somewhat, clearly pleased at the idea of spending more time with you than he usually would be able to. Still, he seemed hesitant to believe that all of the present issues were resolved so easily.

"Now, let's talk about who gets to sleep where in the nest."

~•§•~

The ancient Shinigami watched the pan sizzle as he cooked a small meal quickly and fiddled with a device in his hands. If the Harpy was so keen to be a data point in this study, Hades wasn't going to argue. It unsettled him that several of the students were showing signs of desperation and of performing desperate acts to get the soft and coveted Human's attention.

Who knows what the next desperate action will be or how far it will go.

"Lord Hades?"

"Yes, Child?"

The Shinigami turned his head towards the Yeti who had been present for the fallout of the Harpy and had been a rather helpful aide when it came to restraining the other students. Had they all tried to help and not been held back by the Ape-man, they likely would have all Overblotted or worse given the situation at hand. He at least lived up to his reputation of being calm under pressure and having a good grasp on dangerous situations.

"That much blot should have killed her."

"I know, Child. That much blot would have killed all of them had it gotten a hold on them."

"I know that potion. Poachers use it to infest their prey to claim they were 'putting down a Feral' instead of illegally harvesting parts from a non Feral. It never ends well for those who use it. Ever."

"I am familiar with the potion as well."

This only made Clay's frown deepen. He had seen entire poaching encampments turned Feral due to that specific potion and he had seen the way it acted like a blight on any magical being. How it moved from body to body, infesting and possessing anything it touched.

"Why didn't it kill her?"

"I have several theories. Humans are not magical, so they have next to no accumulation of blot as they go through life. Blot is a byproduct of magic, and without magic, Humans don't form blot but are susceptible to those who have turned Feral. My own Humans had very little interaction with Ferals by design. Though I knew they were blot resistant, I did not know the extent of their blot related abilities."

"So you don't know?"

"I don't know for certain, no. She has shown an incredible ability to neutralize blot and even attract blot towards her, as shown by the potion itself choosing to abandon it's prize of young Vil and anchor itself to her instead where it could have just taken them both."

The Shinigami turned towards Clay, moving the pan off of the heat to let it and the food he was cooking rest. The monitoring collar he was fiddling with coming to life in his hands as he adjusted it.

"I have a theory that Humans are natural blot absorbers and neutralizers. They likely developed this and their addictive nature by evolving hand in hand with magic using species. Humans needed protection from magical species so they developed a way to be needed and helpful to those that protected them. The magical species create blot, and the Humans absorb it, creating a symbiotic relationship. Perhaps it is this blot absorption that led to Humans being so addictive as they relieve the negative impact of blot, which all magical species have."

"It would make sense... To have blot creators and blot neutralizers. But still, this rampant almost infectious attraction and obsession doesn't really fit..."

"That is why it must be studied. There is the potential that Little (Y/n) is a fluke among Humans with an unnatural resistance to blot. The only thing that I know for certain is the data that has been gathered. Humans are addictive, thousands of years worth of research has proven that as fact. This blot absorption is a new development, and with only one Human as the sample size, it can't be asserted that (Y/n) isn't the only blot neutralizer."

The Yeti crossed his arms, deep in thought. It made sense from a scientific view. No science was perfect and with the sample size being a grand total of one, there was always room for misinterpretation. Even still, there was more than just the science to be considered.

"She deserves to know."

"Hm?"

"(Y/n) deserves to be told of her addictive qualities. If not for the sake of others, than for her own sake so she can protect herself. If everyone is going to have some kind of obsession- deadly or not- she deserves to know about it."

"... I know. I have considered broaching the topic many times before, yet have found myself struggling to find the right words to tell her."

"Why?"

"Because," the Shinigami sighed, running his fingers through his flame hair, "Humans are delicate compared to us. Physically they could be a credible threat to other species, especially when their young were put in harm's way, but emotionally they put more value into how others viewed them. It makes sense, they were at the whims of others for an extended period of time and are an incredibly social species as a whole, but that does mean they are more delicate to the emotional impact they have on others. Little (Y/n) in particular seems mostly aware of her impact on the others, but I worry what guilt she will feel when she learns the truth."

Clay nodded at this, having seen his own fair share of just how impactful the affectionate Human was on the wellbeing of those around her. From the guards that flocked to her, to the students that stared whenever she passed by, she impacted everyone she interacted with. He had also noticed his own growing attachment to the kind little Human that so innocently looked to him for instruction.

"Young Vil and Little (Y/n) are likely hungry with the blot still in their systems, they need food before they rest."

Clay dropped the subject as the elder Shinigami split the ample and warm food into two servings, turning to leave. He paused for just a moment at the threshold of the door to speak to the Yeti with an even and measured tone.

"I will broach the subject when I feel it is right, but trust that I will do it. For now, I ask you keep our conversation to yourself. She doesn't need such stress so soon after an event like this one, alright?"

"... I understand."

~•§•~

Rook was almost vibrating with how thrilled he was, settled down in the nest with his boon companion laying against his side. Vil had his long tail tucked and curled under his legs as he himself had taken an almost fetal position up against the side of the Drider. You were sitting close by, petting a sore and less than pleased Grim who demanded cuddles when he realized you were back.

The storm outside had quieted somewhat, as Malleus had managed to calm himself despite not liking the two outsiders laying in your nest. Silver was already back to sleep, Sebek laying against his side but still warily observing the Harpy and Drider duo in the nest. Though the Dragon was displeased with the interlopers, he was more relieved that you were alright. He didn't overlook the staining you had on your skin, seeing the darker tints around your eyes and lips where the blot had forced itself into you.

"Are you certain you are alright, (Y/n)?"

"Yes, Tsuno, I'm okay. I promise. If I wasn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I appreciate that you care so deeply about me and want to make sure I'm alright, but I promise you I am okay."

"..."

The Dragon continued to frown as a light knock sounded from the door. It slowly opened to reveal the large Shinigami with two steaming bowls of food and you couldn't help but smile at him. At least Papa Hades was present and could help care for you and Vil after the impact of the disastrous potion the Harpy had created.

"Here you are, Little One. Eat up and get some rest, you and Young Vil are no doubt exhausted by the evenings events."

You happily accepted the bowl of warm food, Grim taking several long sniffs towards your meal as you pet his forehead. His little nose wiggled and you were content to give the sore kit bites from your bowl. Vil seemed much more hesitant to take the food offered, seeming as if he were close to crying despite the kind gesture.

"Vil?"

"... I don't deserve it."

Your smile fell and you sighed, having seen similar remorseful driven behavior from Riddle and Alistair following their Overblots. He was likely going to need an encouraging hand if he was going to accept the meal offered. At least his behavior showed he was regretting his actions that drove him to his current state.

"Yes, you do. Eat, or you will regret it tomorrow."

"... (Y/n), I almost killed you with my actions. I could have killed myself as well. I don't deserve accolades or kindness after my actions."

A beat of silence passed as you handed the bowl off to a confused Lilia, handing Grim to Malleus. Vil seemed confused by your actions as you moved through the nest to his side, grabbing the second bowl from the elder Shinigami. Using the provided spoon, you scooped up some of the food and looked at Vil expectantly, holding the spoon up to him.

"(Y/n), I-"

"If your next actions are not eating and saying 'thank you' to Papa Hades, I'm not going to listen or entertain any further complaints. You will eat. You will be thankful someone took the time to make you food. You will accept that I am not angry with you. And above all else, you will forgive yourself for your own misguided actions. If I have to sit here and feed you myself, I will."

Vil was silent for another long moment, but his stomach spoke for him with an impatient growl as he could smell the warm food you held. With a certain hesitance to his movements and very much like a baby bird, he let you feed him that first spoonful. You didn't have to feed him the rest as that one bite triggered his obvious hunger and he happily took the bowl from you.

Once Vil was eating his fair share you gently pet his head, making the Harpy let out a gentle cooing noise at the affection. Lilia returned your bowl to you and you proceeded to follow the Harpy's example, pausing to give the occasional piece to Grim. Papa Hades seemed pleased with the both of you eating and nodded, resting on the edge of the nest to wait until you both had finished your impromptu meals.

"Young Vil, given the... events... that took place, I would rather you join the current study I am overseeing. It is on blot and how Little (Y/n) affects blot in other species. It will require you wear this monitor on your neck so we can get vitals and a fairly accurate measurement of blot remaining inside of you. Is that amenable to you?"

"Yes. I... am still mortified that I even considered Overblotting in the first place, but I understand now how lucky I truly am (Y/n) intervened when she did. It would be meaningless to deny my own participation in your research given my misguided actions."

Vil moved towards you, Papa Hades taking both bowls away and setting them to the side as he held up what looked like the same collars Riddle and Alistair wore. The Harpy held up his hair to allow the elder Shinigami to place the device around his neck, shivering from the cold touch. It clicked in place and seemed to not bother the Harpy too much despite the way it sat on his neck feathers.

"The both of you, get some rest. You have had an eventful night and tomorrow will be more rest and testing. I wish you all a pleasant evening."

"Goodnight, Papa Hades."

The elder chucked at this, smiling warmly at you.

"Goodnight, Little One."

With that, he left the room and closed the door behind him so you and your company could get some rest. Vil seemed much more at peace as he returned to Rook's side, the Drider placing pillows against his abdomen for the Harpy to rest comfortably on him. You settled down with Grim, noticing the way Malleus kept his back to the outside of the nest before pulling you under his wing so he could keep an eye on you.

As the room settled down, Lilia turned out the lights and a tentative calm washed over your group. Rook, Sebek, and Grim were quick to drift off, comfortable among the others in the nest and trusting their company wholeheartedly. You, Lilia, Malleus and Vil still clung to some awareness instead of succumbing fully to sleep.

Though you fought to cling to consciousness, you were quickly pulled into the embrace of rest. Malleus and Lilia both wanted to stay awake and keep an eye on the nest given their own anxieties with the situation. As they were both nocturnal Fae, they were less affected by the siren song of sleep than the others were.

Vil was just trying to process all that had happened. Though it was all orchestrated by him, he still had to come to terms with the memories that had been dredged up from the darker corners of his mind. Your forgiveness was a soothing balm to his worrying mind as he contemplated the cruelty of his mother juxtaposed with your compassion.

Something odd happened with his hazy memories of his mother that the Harpy couldn't explain. Where he remembered crying and hiding from her under a rather sturdy table, sobbing as his father fought in a flurry of feathers for his safety, another figure had appeared. You were somehow in his childhood memory, holding him and soothing him after his mother had attacked him. Though he knew it wasn't possibly true, he still valued that odd change to his memories and cherished your comfort.

Perhaps something had happened to alter his memories to a more soothing outcome when you took on his blot. Perhaps he rewrote his own memories to include someone soothing his distraught child self. All he knew for certain was that you were a very calming and soothing presence that made his heart ache less when you were around.

Your presence comforted and relaxed him more than anything else could. Given the way he had lived his life up until that point, he considered it a miracle that he could find anyone he is willing to accept affection from. He even struggled to accept the endless praise Rook heaped on his shoulders, believing the Drider only focused on his outward appearance despite being his closest friend.

Maybe, just maybe, Vil could learn to love himself with your help. He still was going to try and win your heart despite everything, but he now had a clear way forward and into a better frame of mind. For now, that was all that truly mattered to him.

[silkenwinger]

odds of 141 falling in love with the experimentally engaged bartender in a small pub (think of the snack type of place in japan, so still a hostess who's paid to talk to them and be engaging)

gaz: like 60%. he's the most aware one that this is, indeed, a job for you. that doesn't mean he's completely clean from the odd thought or is not somewhat considering asking you out. he's so much better than the other patrons, after all, and c'mon bird, wouldn't you like a daily guard?

ghost: around 70%. i don't think he would actually go to places where the main focus of the night is conversation, at least alone. if he somehow happened to be there, i think he could fall for a very specific type of host, meaning: someone sarcastic and that doesn't take him as seriously as he'd like to appear.

soap: 100%. I think he'd actually lowkey fall for anyone who asked him to talk about himself but besides that, the combo of intimate talk and alcohol is just so powerful on soap. he might actually end up crying on your shoulder and asking you out at the same time. he can do it all!

price: CHRONIC regular at your place. has drove away other patrons with his manners at least thrice but makes it up by spending insane amounts of money on you, to the point where you've pondered asking him to cut it off. actually refers to you as his girlfriend to others, using the excuse that being single at his age is embarrassing. worse is, he knows he's being overbearing, but he also knows that you like money more than not feeling ashamed when he decisively behaves inappropriately as a customer.

[munnmolads]

Rafayel's bounty - Who is after him? Theory and Analysis

Why Rafayel has a bounty on his head and who is behind it? I'll explore all we know about his bounty from Chapter 7 and the possibilities behind it. Spoilers for the entirety of Under Deepspace, Land of Secret Flames and Long Lost Treasures World Underneath story as well as mentions about Long-Awaited Revelry.

The very common speculation about the bounty in the dark web is that Ever has placed on him - based off on the Long Lost Treasures World Underneath story, he is ranked sixth on their execution list. I have a feeling that Ever is not the only one after him - let's explore all the options.

Quick reminder - If you don't remember who Raymond is, he is the man who we met in Chapter 2 at his house with Zayne. He has been acting irrationally for a month and MC's mission was to find out if there were any wanderers involved. He has the Lemurian skeleton in his house as "art", and we learn during the main story that Rafayel painted the painting that makes him act irrationally. During chapter 7 we learn that Raymond died (last night specifically) and the painting Rafayel had painted vanished from his collection.

What do we know about the bounty:

It's posted on the dark web

It is a new bounty, so it hasn't been around long, there isn't any timeframe mentioned, but the message sounds like it is fresh

The "User323412" gets a referral payment for passing it along, so they likely aren't related to the bounty other than passing along the message

Rafayel was already aware of the bounty by the time MC learned about it and confronted him about it

The people who are targeting him are in the N109 zone

Rafayel claims the bounty is on him because someone in N109 zone wanted him to paint a painting as they discovered the secret that "could lead them to their hearts desire" and he said no

What conclusions we can draw from the bounty:

The bounty could be closely related to Raymond and his painting - the bounty's timing with Raymond's death and the painting vanishing from his collection while being related to N109 zone seems a bit too close to be coincidental

Someone who put the bounty is quite influental, atleast in the sense that they are giving out payments just to refer the job to someone

Also the referral payment makes me think it's quite urgent for the person who posted the bounty

Details that point out that the bounty could be from Ever

As mentioned before, Long Lost Treasures mentions that Rafayel is ranked 6th on Ever's execution list. This is in the context that the expeditions which Deepspace Academy have made to Lemurian ruins show protocore weapons, which complicates Ever into it. Rafayel is trying to protect those ruins and other Lemurians as best as he can, and most likely has made an enemy out of Ever because of that.

I want to mention that if Rafayel's bounty is the same thing as Ever's execution list, most likely Long Lost Treasures happen earlier in the main story of the game than in Chapter 7, possibly even before the main story begins. In Chapter 2, MC reads that Rafayel recently returned to the country and LLT mentions this as well. It would also make sense that he knows about it by Chapter 7. I want to talk about LLT's timing in a another post in more detail later though.

Ever is also quite influental in N109 Zone as we learn in Long-Awaited Revelry with Sylus. It probably wouldn't be out of the question to use dark web to their advantage when they want to deal with more shady business.

Something that really bugs me about this is that most of these aren't really related to Raymond other than that he has the Lemurian skeleton in his house. Also, if the timing with it happening well before Chapter 7 is true, the bounty isn't actually a new one, or that had been spread wider because of reasons. As mentioned before, I really feel like this bounty is more directly connected to Raymond.

In addition, Rafayel's reason about why the bounty makes very little sense - how an entire company would put a bounty on him because of he refused to paint a painting? It's not completely out of the question he would lie about that to MC, but we get to exploring more of that.

However I also want to point out that Ever has a motive to cover up Raymond's death, since we know from Zayne's story branch that since Raymond's death, Xander Sciences gets acquired by Ever. They also would have the perfect scapegoat right there, since everyone thinks Rafayel murdered Raymond. I don't know why they would want to put a bounty over his head because they want to cover Raymond's death - dead men can't talk and be proven innocent I suppose?

Why it could be someone else than Ever

Again, I feel the timing in the story for us knowing about the bounty is very important. Quite often the story tends to infodump on the player and then distract with another thing, but Chapter 7 is quite cohesive in the sense that most of the information locks in together quite seamlessly. We learn about Rafayel knowing about the illusion in the painting, what caused it and he even indirectly admits putting the it in the painting. I'm showing this conversation in a reversed order just to make my point about the painting being special.

He quite explicitly says this bounty is about someone wanting a painting like that from him too. His description of the bounty's placer doesn't really fit with Ever - maybe someone specific from Ever, but this sounds much more personal than a huge company trying to veer off people who could stop them.

Just after this conversation we hear from the journalist in 7-3 that Raymond is dead. This could be very much related why the bounty is new as it would be related to Raymond's death and to the fact that the painting had vanished from his collection room. This is why I think the bounty is heavily related to Raymond's death - we are getting all this info in such a short amount of time.

Something also that I really want to point out with Rafayel's brach story is that Rafayel specifies that he has other enemies than the people who put up the bounty, and he refers to Ever.

This is the main reason why I think the bounty from Chapter 7 is different from Ever's execution list. While Rafayel isn't exactly straightforward about many things considering his secrets, he still seems to be quite honest about the bounty. But even still he seems quite nonchalant about it - while his focus is quite pin-point on Ever. It would make more sense he would take the bounty more seriously if it was directly from Ever.

It also still leaves room for Ever having him in his execution list, as well as not tying Long Lost Treasures in a certain time.

Who it could be if not Ever?

I'll take out the boring answers out first. It could be a revenge bounty from Raymond's family, who thinks Rafayel killed him. I don't really think it's likely since the other details don't match with it, and as I said, a boring answer.

It could also be a nod to a 6th LI - I have seen the fan theories going around that the original 3 get their "dark counterparts" as the added LI's, such as Xavier having his "dark counterpart" from Sylus and Zayne from Caleb. This could be a subtle introduction to Rafayel's counterpart from the 6th LI. But we don't know much about them at this point anyway, so I feel I don't have much to do on speculating who that might actually be. Also, I feel the relations between the LI's aren't this straightforward.

Maybe this is just me readying my popcorn and waiting the drama to drop, but I feel it could be Sylus. There's the obvious connection to N109 Zone, but Sylus would also be aware that Rafayel managed to get hold of MC thanks to the painting that Raymond had thanks to the illusion in the painting. I am admitting I don't know much about Sylus' lore, but "lead to their heart's desire" sounds close to his words.

To my understanding Sylus is more the "If you are not useful for me, then I need to make you disappear" kind of guy. I wouldn't put it past him to put a bounty on Rafayel because of both being close to MC and him possibly being a threat to Sylus since he has approached Rafayel.

He also would have the reason to take the painting - maybe his thought was that MC will follow that painting to reveal the secrets behind it. I want to point out about Raymond's death is that it didn't leave any traces behind - such like the Ever researcher Sylus killed years ago according the voice recording we hear before learning about Rafayel's bounty.

I feel like all these pieces of information being presented in such a small timeframe - 3 chapters to be exact - Sylus' voice, Rafayel's bounty from N109 zone and the reason for the bounty and Raymond being dead, it feels very intentional.

Both Rafayel and Sylus are aware of each other

This is going on a bit of a side tangent since I'm just really into this, but also it's clear Sylus and Rafayel are aware of each other. If you look back on Chapter 7, you will notice MC never at one point mentioned her target being Onychinus, but at Chapter 7-4 Rafayel mentions about becoming a bait for Onychinus. I'm 50-50 on if it's something that was overlooked during writing the story or if it's a hint on Rafayel knowing more than he lets on, but I'll lean towards the latter.

I really, really would want to talk more about Rafayel's line in the Nest, but for now I'll just point out the similar language he used with person he's talking with. Considering that this is all happening after we learn about the bounty, I feel Rafayel's actions could indicate him trying to get rid of Sylus in self-defense.

We also hear some small mentions about possibly Sylus learning about the people attending the Nest during the Hunting day in Midnight Stealth, and then Luke and Kieran taking care of some "clean up" the day after.

Of course this night could also refer to something else, but atleast it would feel bit silly to include this in the story so deliberately if it wasn't about the Hunting Day. You could argue that Midnight Stealth isn't part of the main story, but I do feel it's very connected to it since it is about retrieving that brooch from Sylus that he tells to get from his person, and the main story continues from MC getting the brooch. This also could be why Rafayel is hiding from Sylus as mentioned in one of the previous screenshots since Sylus is aware Rafayel was there.

I have seen some other stuff that could also indicate some extra references between them. but unfortunately one of them is from a affinity call from Rafayel that I'm getting soon-ish hopefully, but it will take some time, so I need to put all that to a different post when I get more familar with Sylus's myths and other lore meanwhile.

What do you think? I think I will go insane if we don't get to know more about Raymond's death and Rafayel's bounty soon. I don't want to close the possiblity for the bounty coming from Ever, but I feel the bounty is much more deeper and meaningful than just Ever being the only big bad meanie to Rafayel.

[beom-s-author]

txt reactions-tell them you're pregnant (hyung line)

choi soobin

You had some suspicions. Of course, the vomiting, mood swings, and the missed period. It couldn’t just be a sign of one thing. Maybe you were just worried and it was affecting your period. You were afraid of Soobin noticing and his reaction. But he was very busy and all he cared about was what happened at their last concert and the to-do shoot. You were scared inside. And that day, you decided to take a test.

When Soobin left home, you went to the pharmacy. You went home and took the test. Waiting was torture. You sat on the couch and checked the time. You looked at the test in your hand and bam, two lines. This wasn't what you expected. How were you going to tell Soobin?

You were eating dinner together when Soobin came home. It was just the right time to spill the beans. Soobin was calm as he ate, laughing as he told you about his day. You took a deep breath. "Soob?" He turned to you and raised his eyebrows. "I haven't been feeling well for the last few days..I wanted to find out why so I did a test.." Soobin's eyes widened in surprise and before you could even tell him the result, Soobin picked you up from your chair and put you in his arms. You hugged him tightly and laughed. This wasn't the reaction you were expecting, but what you were sure of was that Soobin and you were embarking on a new journey.

choi yeonjun

You didn't know what was happening. What was happening to you scared you. First, the stomach and now the mood swings. Your morale was falling apart every second. You thought about the workload and erased everything from your mind. You took a deep breath and forgot about it. But you were almost passing out while sitting at work and it worried you now. You told Yeonjun about it and he got really scared.

When you went to the hospital, what you expected were advice like reduce your stress, eat better, etc. The positive result from the blood test wasn’t pregnancy. You were staring at the paper in your hand with your mouth open. The doctor’s advice and the first ultrasound image. You took the copies and ran to Yeonjun. He might be unhappy, but you told him without thinking.

Yeonjun's eyes got widen with your words. He covers his mouth with his hand and he runs towards you. He looked at the ultrasound copies also. He smiled. "So wow..How month?" You replied. "1 month and 2 weeks." He smiled. He was trying to found the due month, guess the gender and etc. Wow He was so excited so..What can you expect? He is the right one...

choi beomgyu

In the deep down, You wwre aware of your situation. From going to pee often to the morning sickness. It was all pointing to one thing. You knew you guys were careful but sometimes the accidents can happen. But it was best to hide it from Beomgyu. He is gonna be so chaotic. He will scream at his lungs and he will be the most scared one. So you hide it. Hide until he got nervous too.

He was scared that you might be sick and it might be something serious. He cooked for you, he did the laundry and cleaned the house. You were feeling guilty because of his sweet behaviours. You woke up this morning with sounds. He was mumbling a song while preparing breakfast for you. You got up from the bed and went near of him. But the smell of fresh eggs bring you a deep nausea. Before you can understand you found yourself in the bathroom again..

A day later, You found yourself in the bathroom again but with a positive pregnancy test. You sighed and you grabbed your phone. Decided to text him with a small message but deleted it. You just put the test in the box and you shipped the box to his company, to his stüdio. You sighed and sat on the couch while waiting for his reaction.

A few minutes later, You got a message. A video from Yeonjun. It was a video of Beomgyu, while he was looking at the test and trying to wipe his tears. You chuckled with the video. The guys were very happy also and they were chuckling with the results. And from now it was a new experience for both of you in the parenting way.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Marked (MOC Dean x female reader)

Chapter 2 - Bubbles

Read it on AO3

Mark of Dean series master list

18+. 9.8k words. Explicit sexual content. Some graphic violence. Dubious consent. Unhealthy relationships. Age gap. Sad ending.

You hum along to the music while you look out the window as the landscape roars past. It's flat land out there, farmland, not particularly pretty. Not young and open and fertile like you.

Dean clears his throat, shifts in his seat as he tears his eyes away from your reflection in the rearview mirror, back to the road. Fertile? Jesus Christ, where the fuck did that come from?

Sam has his head lowered in the passenger seat, laptop on his legs. Dean has half a mind to tell him to stop looking at it or he'll get car sick, an old instinct from when Sammy used to get nauseous when it was still John in the driver's seat, Dean in the passenger and his little brother in the back, usually his nose in a book. A long time ago.

Instead, now it's you and Castiel sitting back there. Castiel is looking out the other window, not helping the family on a road trip energy floating around the car. No road trip’s complete without some underlying tension.

Let's see. There's Cas and Sam, who can't get out of Dean's ass for even a second about the Mark and its consequences and their but are you really sure you're okay, Dean? Deep down he knows they are genuinely worried, but when they talk to him that way it makes hot, tantrum-inducing irritation shoot up Dean's spine.

Adding to that, Sam and Cas have, through their shared worry about Dean, formed some kind of best-friends-forever bond. It used to be that Castiel was Dean's buddy, his guardian angel, and while he didn't like that he and Sam never found that kind of closeness, now that they have, he feels awfully on the outside.

He doesn't like it. He hates it actually. Being on the outside of anything makes him feel desperate, lonely, almost immediately. Angry, too, and that might be the Mark, but it's difficult to tell. More difficult than Dean would like to admit, than he has admitted.

And then there's you, of course. Because every friend group needs a couple of dirty secrets, and apparently, you're his. Or he's yours. Something like that.

You seem to be doing absolutely fine, though, because you are, as previously observed, humming. You broke things off with Dean earlier today, as much as there was something to break off, and you said it could never happen again.

And you're fucking humming.

Dean's hand on the steering wheel tightens. He's not mad at you, not really. Well, he is, but there's more that he feels. He still can't look at you without immediately being very aware of what his cock is doing. He cares for you, he really does, always has. He used to be your friend. Can he still be that?

Fuck no, he thinks, shifting again. Never mind whether he can be, he doesn't want to be that. Not that he never appreciated it, he really did. Always thought you were a cute little thing, caught himself feeling almost regretful that you weren't ten years older when he met you, at least halving the difference in years between you, making him feel like not quite such a dirty, old man.

So friend it was, but not because that's who he wanted to be, but because that was the only option. He doesn't want it to sound like he doesn't appreciate you, he doesn't want something else, just something on top of that, him on top of you, soft thighs pressed high on his side, tight pussy taking h–

No, this is exactly the kind of shit he needs to stop. He feels tension low in his stomach. He has half a mind to pull Baby over, drag you out and fuck you right on the hood of the car. You'd like that, he's sure. Would try to find something to hold on to while his thrusts shove you back and forth. Maybe you'd make that sound you made that night. The one that sounds like you're in ecstasy.

Jesus, Dean thinks, runs his hand over his face. Jesus goddamn fucking Christ, he needs to focus. He has a plan after all. It's gonna take a few things to put in place, but he can manage that. He throws you another look in the rearview mirror. And you catch him. Smile at him. The sweetest, loveliest smile he's ever seen.

Maybe he shouldn't do it. It's not a nice plan. But he doesn't know what else to do. He wants what he wants, and he doesn't see why he should deny himself. It's the only fucking thing he ever does, is deny himself. Sure, he has the impulse control of a toddler, but all those things, food, booze, women, they're all just gun powder poured into an open wound, set alight to shut the gash, but never to close it, heal it. He's never wanted anything as much as you.

He looks out the front, and when he glances back, you're looking out the window again. Is this love? he wonders. He's not sure. He loves you, definitely, but is he in love with you? He wants you, he knows that. But is that enough?

His free hand goes to his arm, absent-mindedly, and scratches there. It makes him flinch and he looks down.

He was scratching at the Mark. He can't see it because of the jacket he's wearing, but he knows exactly where it is. Dragging his fingernails along the fabric resting over it. Sweet relief of a constant pain.

That's what fucking you felt like. Like reaching that spot that has been bothering you for an hour and raking your fingers over it. Something so good it makes you close your eyes. His brain was quiet, afterwards. And during it, well…

He was concentrated on you. Mesmerized, more like it. He's never felt that kind of arousal, of lust, that kind of relief. It nearly made him go cross-eyed, that's how good it was. It was the kind of fucking that you hope to find once in your life, and then compare every single encounter ever against. It was like his first blowjob and that time he fucked those twins and washing down the best burger in the world with a long sip of cold beer and when Baby kicks a little when he accelerates and the soft way a knife goes into a bad guy's neck and a hot shower on a cold day, but all rolled into one.

Surely it was the same for you? You were there with him, right?

Surely that must mean something?

You arrive at the motel, check in, one room - it used to be one for Sam and Dean, practiced in sharing, one for you, because, well, Sam and Dean could be a little old fashioned and boys and girls don’t go in the same room seems to be something they have picked up and run with.

You used to say it’s a waste of money, since all you would do is sleep. You always hung out together until just before getting ready for bed anyway, and you repeatedly told them you didn’t mind if they farted at night. Dean laughed at that, and eventually, they agreed to share one room with you. You’d insist on sleeping on the couch, being the shortest out of the bunch, would roll up, always wait until they were asleep, which with both of them could take a long time. But it was always worth it, to hear their slow breathing in the room with you. It lulled you in like nothing else could.

But right now, you’re not sure if sharing is such a good idea.

Dean’s been strange since you told him that you’re not gonna sleep with him again. Which is fair. Are you kind of relieved that he does care? That he didn’t take it in stride? Yes, of course. You’re only human. The fact that he seems hurt, is quiet… You don’t want him to feel even a second of pain, but of course it tugs at your heart. Dean wants you. He really wants you. Not that it matters, now. But it makes it all deliciously harder.

Still, you feel strangely fresh and optimistic. Not at the choice itself, but at least at the fact that a choice has been made. It was in your hands, all of it, and now it is out of them. You can’t help but feel a little lighter.

Plus maybe, just maybe, things will go back to the way they were. With you pining for Dean in secret, and him treating you like a kid, or a little sister. All flirting platonic and meaningless to him, just kindness, but driving you so wild you could have screamed. Needing to play the adult feels good right now, but you wish to go back to that status of the one that needs protecting, the one that needs looking after. It’s not an easy wish to accept, sometimes, but you’ve learned not to shame yourself for it. You’ve been strong so often. It’s okay to want to be cared for.

Dean stretches when he gets out of the car, eyes narrowed, slightly frowning. You catch yourself staring at him, marveling at him. It’s like everything before this was just a fever dream, the chasing, the wanting, the not knowing. Now you see him. You had sex with this man. He wants you. This man. Pride swells your chest, just a touch of shame at the pride following right after.

You drop your bag near the couch, then move to the table, where Sam is already spreading out. You lean on it just as Dean and Cas walk in with the rest of the luggage.

“Should I get us some coffee?” you ask and Sam looks up, smiles, is about to open his mouth but Dean interjects.

“Cas and I are gonna head out and interview some witnesses,” he says, kneeling down to open his own duffel. “You two should focus on research.” You nod. It’s strangely reasonable. You look towards Cas.

“Remember to tell them you work for the FBI this time,” you say with a smile, “not the FCA again.” Castiel gives an embarrassed huff.

“It’s a lot of letters,” he says, then frowns. “I find acronyms confusing.”

But you’re already not listening. After your comment, you looked at Dean, hoping he’d laugh with you. You love Cas, but teasing him together with Dean, lovingly, is one of your favorite past times. You miss it. You miss Dean. In so many ways, even though he’s right there.

But he’s not smiling. He’s not even listening, you’re pretty sure. He’s just straightening, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, looking down at the table you’ve all gathered around. He looks sad. Distracted, deep in thought, and sad. Could it be? Could it be because of you? Do you have this kind of power? You're sure Dean doesn't have a lot of practice being rejected, at least not by women he sees as sexual conquests. By everyone else? Maybe.

“Sheriff’s office is only twenty minutes away,” Dean now says, completely ignoring the previous exchange. “Let’s go.”

You drop into one of the chairs once the other two men have left, reach for the nearest book, open it at a random page. Try to ignore the lump in your throat.

Focus. It’s what Dean needs. It’s a good distraction. He just needs to keep it up. A few more hours. A few more hours, and you should be back in his arms.

And it’s not like he isn’t gonna have fun in the meantime.

It’s the fifth door he and Cas are knocking on. Dean gets out of the car, hand going to his wrist, tugging at his shirt, then straightening the jacket of his suit. He feels the Mark rub against the fabric of his shirt.

Sometimes, it’s so quiet. Sometimes, it’s just there, humming away, kind of like you were in the car. But sometimes it irritates him, itches. Feels like arm hair caught on a zipper. And sometimes it screams.

More importantly, sometimes he knows it’s the Mark revving him up. He understands that the things he feels are amplified by it. But the thing is, it’s still just him. Still all the stuff he’s just buried in himself. That’s what Sam and Cas don’t understand. The Mark isn’t changing him. It has made him louder. Clearer. Like a radio finally tuned to the right frequency.

The door is opened by the witness, an attractive woman in her late thirties - Dean’s age, he has to keep reminding himself. He doesn’t feel it. It always surprises him.

He flirts with her a little, playfully rolls his eyes at Castiel being awkward, rather than play over it. She gives him a suggestive smile. Cute, but not what he’s looking for. She’d make him take her out, dinner, maybe a movie. A second date before she’d even allow him to push his hand under her shirt. That’s not what he needs.

He needs quick, he needs dirty, he needs immediate. He’s simple like that.

When they leave the house, walk down the front steps, Dean looks at his watch. The gesture is for show, since he already saw the time inside, on some ugly grandfather clock that he hopes to hell was an heirloom. Seven in the evening. Perfect. He slaps his hands together, rubs them against each other.

“Maybe we should start thinking about dinner,” he says, turning to Cas. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants and grins. “Don’t tell me you’re not starving.”

Castiel gives him what for the angel passes as a sarcastic look. Hardy fucking har har. He sighs, which is the one human habit Cas seems to have perfected.

“It looks like none of the witnesses have seen anything that could help us,” Cas muses, “so I suppose this is a good time to take a break.” Dean nods for extra emphasis, rolls his shoulders.

“Could use a drink,” he mumbles, looking down the street.

It lands. It lands so perfectly it’s almost ridiculous. Just goes to show he knows Cas. Maybe better than he knows himself.

“Yes,” Cas says, his face changing into a friendly expression even as he says the word. “We should grab a beer. I can’t technically get drunk anymore, but I enjoy the camaraderie of it.”

Dean turns to his friend. For just a second, he feels guilty. Cas wants to get a drink with him. Yeah, he probably wants to talk about his feelings - Dean’s, not Castiel’s - and ask him if he’s really, truthfully, pinkie promise can’t tell a lie honest to God okay. But the point still stands. Luckily, Dean shakes himself out of the guilt immediately. He’s good at that. So he throws the angel a smile.

“I consider that a personal challenge,” he says and Cas now smiles genuinely, his entire face lighting up.

So Dean will get Cas a drink. And then he will take care of everything else.

You’re pulling on your jacket while Sam explains his salad order to you.

“Samuel,” you say, suppressing a grin, “I have bought food for us about a million trajillion times. I know what you like.” Sam drops his hands on the table, then chuckles. God, it feels good, this lightness. Joking with Sam. You know it’s only been less than two weeks since things have changed so drastically, but it feels like an eternity.

“Alright,” he says, admitting defeat, “but to be fair, I need to explain it to Cas and Dean every time, so it’s just kind of a habit.” You shrug.

“Guess I’m the best of all of us,” you say with a heavy sarcastic inflection, making Sam grin, lay his hand over his heart.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he says and you laugh, grab your phone off the table and then walk outside.

You don’t have a second car, and the fast food place is a little bit away, but you don’t mind. The evening is mild, even though darkness has fallen a while ago, and you’ve been cooped up all afternoon in the motel room. You take a deep breath. It’s mostly exhaust fumes, but still, it’s nice. It’s a good walk. You swear to yourself to try to go on more of them.

When you get to the restaurant, you study the menu while you stand in line. The chain’s mascot - a beaver in overalls, for some reason - is screaming at you to get a Chippy Choc Chocolate Shake. It’s cute, but not what you’re in the mood for. You make it to the front of the line and order.

Chicken sandwich for you. Salad shaker with a light dressing for Sam. Cas doesn’t need nutrients, but you get him a small Coke, cause you know he likes the bubbles. For Dean, you go all out: double bacon burger, extra pickles, extra onion, and at the last second, you get him an order of the Dam’ Good Fries. You chuckle at the name.

Your arms are full as you walk back. The food will probably be cold by the time you get back, but it’s not like any of you have the highest culinary standards.

You’re halfway back when your phone vibrates. Balancing some of the food against your body, you pull it out of your pocket. It’s a message from Sam.

Dean and Cas found another witness to interview, just down the road. Just got there but will be back before dinner, oh Queen of the Salads.

The emojis he picked are random, but you think they’re salad-inspired, and then a crown at the end. What an absolute doofus, you think as you push the phone back into your pocket with a smile.

When you reach the motel, you need to balance the food again to grab your key. You push it into the lock and then shoulder your way in.

Your first thought is that Sam must have left the TV on, and your second thought is that that’s very unlikely, since Sam rarely watches anything but the news, and he never watches them on regular TV, because the ads annoy him. He’s also not the type to leave the TV on. So it’s all around weird.

You need to turn when you enter the room since due to the stuff you’re carrying you walked in sideways. When you do, you freeze on the spot.

It’s not the TV. It’s Dean. It’s Dean and he’s not alone.

He’s standing behind the second bed, facing you. You see the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, and then your brain catches up that he needs to be shirtless for that to work. Except he’s not just shirtless, he’s naked.

There’s a woman on the bed. You’ve never seen her before. Later, all you’ll remember about her is that she has dark hair, that her head is hanging off the side of the bed and that her legs are pulled up so that Dean can fuck her the way he’s fucking her.

She’s gasping and moaning and grunting deep in her throat. You’re not sure if she registers that someone has come in. But Dean does. He does immediately.

He looks up. He’s panting and his hips are snapping forwards and backwards while he fucks the woman under him. You can see his cock gliding in and out of her, but only the root, because of the angle. You realize all of this as abstractly as if it isn’t happening to you but to someone else.

When you look away from Dean’s magically disappearing and reappearing cock, you look up at his face. He’s looking straight at you. His lips are parted and you think a smile is tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, then groans, briefly looking down at the woman’s breasts, then up again. “Had to get somewhere fast, was kind of an emergen– oh fuck, that’s it, baby.” His head drops down again, as he keeps fucking. The woman still hasn’t really reacted, but just then, she opens her eyes, focuses on you, though she seems to have a hard time with it.

“Who the fuck are you?” she slurs, making no attempt to stop Dean or get him off her.

Indeed. Who the fuck are you?

The food and drink drops from your arms without you meaning to. The strength to hold them simply leaves you. The lid on the Coke opens, the liquid inside going everywhere. It might as well be happening on a different planet.

You turn around, rush outside. You just have the wherewithal to pull the door shut behind you, and immediately you curse yourself for it. Still being so fucking considerate.

The pain is so immediate, it shocks you. It’s crawling into your throat, like panic, as you rush across the parking lot, without a goal, except for away. Away from Dean, from what you saw.

Your breath is coming fast, but the tears are faster. Without meaning to, a sound leaves you just as you turn the corner off the lot. You’re just there enough still to realize you’re walking back into the direction of the fast food place, so you turn around, because that way are people. The other way is better, even though you have no idea what that way is.

It doesn’t matter. Your arms go around you, your face scrunches up, and a deep sob leaves you.

How stupid you are. How absolutely dumb. Horrendously, endlessly, disgustingly stupid. You thought you were being the adult.

Dean never cared about you. How could he? How could he ever? His biggest worry is probably making sure he comes and then hustling that woman out the door before Sam is back, and Cas, wherever he is. His worry wasn’t you. It never was.

Like someone changing the channel in your head, you see Dean again. Torso glistening, and those noises, skin on skin and grunting and panting, like goddamn animals. Like you and him did. Oh God. He doesn’t give a shit about you.

You actually thought you were on top of this, this whole situation. That you had done something right and good and reasonable, and that things would be alright. How fucking stupid are you?

Dean never cared. He slept with you, had sex with you, because you threw yourself at him. Came to his room with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, asking him about a boy you liked, what to do with him to make him like you. You might as well have walked in naked.

And then, when Dean thought you maybe wanted more than just one night, you avoided him, and then shut him down. All while telling him that he wasn’t in his right mind. Pathetic.

And now you’re hurt? You dare to be hurt? Because you’re not his number one?

Another sob leaves you. God, it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s not like you’ve never seen Dean just before or right after he hooked up with someone. It always made you jealous, distantly, because you were reasonable enough to know that you could never have him like this. So you teased him, acted shocked and, if you’re being honest, a little uppity about his behavior. Like a little girl that knows everything. He must have thought you were ridiculous.

And still, and still. There’s a part of you, no matter how much you beat it down, no matter how much you know you are the bad guy here, I mean, wake up, there’s a part of you that really thought he liked you. That Dean Winchester maybe liked you. The sweetest, strongest, most beautiful person you’ve ever met. Liked you. What an absolute joke.

You don’t know how long you walk, but it’s a while. It’s dark, the streets empty. You have no idea what time it is, because you’d need to unlatch your arms from your body to look at your phone.

You’d recognize the sound anywhere, of course. In your sleep, probably. Still, right then, you are so deep in your thoughts and fantasies, that the Impala is already pulling up next to you when you notice it.

Dean’s in the driver’s seat, of course. His arm is over the back of the bench and he’s leaning his head forward to look at you through the window. You stop walking, look at him. Swallow, but your mouth is dry.

He’s leaning over now, rolls down the window on the passenger side, the one you’re on, a little bit.

“Get in,” he says. His voice is softer than you expect it to be. You sniff.

“Just get in,” he says.

There’s probably no one in the world that would describe Dean as some sort of mastermind. But after today, that just might change.

It’s a matter of timing, and he almost messes up a few times. He’s been calculating all afternoon, thinking about how to do it. It’s a lot of things that need to go right. Not least of all his own seduction skills.

He and Castiel walk into a bar - there’s a joke in there somewhere. Dean picks just about the shabbiest one he can find, as close to the motel as possible.

They sit down, order their drinks. Cas immediately starts on the probing, hiding it very badly by pretending he’s talking about the case. Dean just nods along as he looks around and takes stock.

The one he settles on wouldn’t be his type, if he had one. He likes to drink, but she’s sloppy drunk, standing near the bar, one heel already tilted. She’s cute, but it’s not even eight PM on a Wednesday, and she’s sloshed. Not that he’s one to judge.

He grabs his drink and walks over to her without saying a single word to Cas. Let him figure out what Dean is doing. He’s a big boy.

He gets to chatting to the woman, forgets her name immediately. There’s a brief moment where he wonders if she’s too drunk for him to take home. She’s kinda unsure on her legs, laughs too loudly at everything he says. She’s also eye-fucking him something fierce. Still, this chick needs a cab, not some creep trying to hook up with her. Dean only distantly remembers that he’s that creep.

Luckily Castiel leaves him alone, maybe happy that Dean isn’t sulking or murdering or whatever he thinks Dean likes to do these days. He briefly winks at the angel when he asks the woman if she wants to get out of here. She steps close to him in an attempt at being seductive, runs her hand down his chest. She’ll do.

As they’re walking out, Dean looks at his phone. It’s still on the messages from Sam, the ones he made sure he got a few minutes ago when he was about to leave with his special guest. There’s Dean complaining that he’s hungry, Sam agreeing that they should eat, then saying that you just left and that Dean and Cas should start making their way back.

Dean’s sure Sam suggested that he go and get the food, but that you fought him tooth and nail, knowing that for him tearing himself away from his books is much harder. Plus Dean knows you like to walk. It was a gamble, but one he knew the odds on.

He smiles as he pockets the phone. It’s a race against time now, but at least it'll be a fun one.

He calls Sam as he’s pulling off the bar’s parking lot. Luckily the drunk chick is quiet. Dean hopes she won’t throw up. That would put an end to his plans very quickly.

“Sammy, it’s me,” he opens the conversation. “Listen, we need your help to finish some stuff up…”

The address is a fake, of course. Still, it’ll take Sam long enough to get there and when he calls to confirm the address, Dean simply won’t answer. So maybe he’ll call Cas instead. Everything should already be done by then.

When he hangs up, the woman turns to him with a suggestive grin.

“Who’s Sammy?” she asks. “Is he gonna join us?” Dean just huffs. Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Once they’re inside the room, it’s quick. Dean helps undress her. Usually he’d take his time with a woman, but now he doesn’t. He hopes she’s too drunk to care, as he pulls a condom from his wallet, then maneuvers her over to the bed. He looks at the door briefly. He’ll be facing you when you come in. That’s hoping he didn’t miscalculate somewhere and it is you walking in. If it’s Sam or Cas, he’ll survive that too. Not like it hasn’t happened before.

Luckily, the woman’s pretty wet. Not that it surprises Dean - he tends to have that effect - it’s just that he wasn’t under the impression her brain and pussy were still that much in sync. But it’s good. One less thing he has to worry about. He takes his cock in his hand and strokes himself to hardness.

He thinks about you, of course, and he doesn’t question that even for a single second. The tug and pull inside him is immediate. You’re there, under him, open and waiting, shifting around a little, just moving your body cause you already feel so damn good. Well, he’s about to take you to the next level.

You grin at him, bite your lip, let your legs drop open, breathing hard. Lower lips glistening, some of it having transferred to the inside of your thighs, that’s how bad you want him.

Come here, baby, you say, your tone only a little ironic. He raises his eyebrows at the cheekiness of your tone, grabs your waist with one hand and guides himself into you with the other.

You make the most pornographic noises. Every little push and pull a whimper or gasp or this wonderful sound he can’t really describe, it’s throaty but not. He’s not sure. Perfect, perky tits bouncing a little. Fuck, you want him so much.

You squeeze him inside of you, roll your hips, and even though you shouldn’t technically have any control in this position, you make the most of it. Your sounds get louder, as you’re basically jerking him off with your pussy. Goddamn, he’s gonna—

Dean takes a sharp breath. Focus, he thinks, and his good for nothing brain replies: you were focusing. What the fuck else would you call this? He looks down at the woman. She’s attractive, it’s not that, and she seems to be enjoying herself, but it’s almost turning him off, how much she’s not you. Goddamn it.

He pulls out, briefly, strokes his cock again. She’s mumbling, something about how she wants him to keep going and how good that was, whatever, so Dean closes his eyes, to focus.

It’s you, hand flying to your clit to keep you high, or– no, no, he told you not to touch yourself, that he’s taking care of you, so you don’t, just lie there waiting for him, no, begging for him to keep going. Please, Dean, put it in, I’m so close, I need you. Yeah, that’s right. The reaction is immediate.

He plunges back in, makes the woman drop back her head, off the side of the bed. Good, he doesn’t have to see her face.

You walk in a few minutes later. It actually takes you longer than Dean was expecting, made him almost worried if something changed, if you weren’t going to show. Maybe Cas called from the bar and Sam pulled a car out of his ass, somehow, and picked you up, and then drove to the bar and now you’re all sitting there, talking about how strange and wrong and weird Dean has become.

But that’s not what happens. You walk in, and your reaction is a million times better than Dean even dared to imagine. You care. You do care.

It turns him on to see you like this. To see you care. He was terrified you wouldn't. Any moment now you're gonna walk up to him, grab him and fuck his brains out. He needs to drop his head forward cause he's about to come from the thought alone.

But then you drop all the food and run out. Dean's surprised, it's not the reaction he was expecting, and then he flinches when his arm suddenly twitches. He looks down at the Mark.

He's dressed and in the car fifteen minutes later. He pulled out, didn't even come, unable to imagine the drunk woman as you for even another second. Why would he, when the real deal is out there?

He comes up with some story on the spot, about you being his niece that he's looking after. The drunk chick nods, hair disheveled, then belches when she's pulling up her tights. Dean's pushing her out of the door before she's put her second shoe on.

He drives off the parking lot, hangs a left, heads towards the town center. You're not there, or at least he doesn't find you. He turns the car around, does another lap. Still no sign of you.

He finds you in the other direction. He was just about to get worried - it's not like it's safe out here necessarily, for someone as young and pretty as you. So it's a relief when he pulls up.

It's an even bigger relief when, after staring at him for a moment with eyes whose redness Dean doesn't miss - you've been crying, because of him, goddamn this worked perfectly - you get in the car. In the back, not the front, but it still feels like a win.

He doesn't say anything as he drives back to the motel, and neither do you. It's dark by now, and he parks the car at the opposite end to the lot, far away from the room. Just in case Sam or Cas decide to show up.

He turns off the engine and looks up, into the rearview mirror, at you

“Sorry about that,” he says, not sounding sorry, talking as if you're in the middle of a conversation. You don't react, so Dean adds: “About what you walked in on there, earlier. I didn't think you would be back so soon.” Still you don't reply.

“Kinda had to be fast,” he continues, distantly wondering if he’s trying to fill the silence. “Just… just had to get somewhere fast, you know?”

Dean’s still looking into the rearview mirror, studying your face. You’re looking off to the side, out the window, avoiding him. Your arms are wrapped tightly around your body, like you need to protect yourself.

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t feel good. The high Dean was riding of not just getting his dick wet but of seeing you react with shock and jealousy dies down, drops him with no warning, and he needs to swallow.

“Hey,” he says into the rearview mirror, trying to get your attention, but instead, your arms around you tighten and then he can see your bottom lip begin to tremble. It’s the sweetest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen and it breaks his heart in two.

You squeeze your eyes shut and then your shoulders are shaking and before Dean can do anything, a tear, and then another, drop from your closed eyes. You sniff, and Dean feels frozen for a moment.

He was hoping you’d throw yourself at him, fuck him stupid to show him who he belongs to. Who you belong to. He didn’t expect this.

“Hey,” he says again, shifting in his seat, quieter this time, inclining his head in utter discomfort and shame, a feeling he should be used to by now but still it burns violently in him. “Don’t– it’s okay.” Your lips are pressed together, but you release them with a sob. You don’t look at him when you speak.

“Did you do that on p–purpose?” you ask, and your voice is so shaky it’s like someone grabs Dean’s heart and presses it between their hands. “How could you– Why would you do that?”

He opens the door before he even plans to do it. Gets out, lets it shut, and then opens the backdoor. He scoots in and you don’t move away. Dean sits, leans over to pull the door closed behind him. It’s probably a good sign, he thinks, just as he turns to you, that you’re allowing him to sit next to you. And then in the next moment he thinks: good sign for what?

He turns to you, and you’re avoiding his gaze, staring at the nothing. Dean needs to bring his arm to the back of the bench so that he can turn to you, and while he watches, you try to control yourself, every part of you tense, under pressure. His fingers land on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and that seems to break your levee.

You pull your shoulders up, and you’re shaking the next second. Thick, loud sobs leave you and the tears spilling down your face are endless. Dean hesitates for a second, but the sadness caused by seeing you like this, even if he is the cause of your pain, propels him forward. He scoots closer, the arm already on the back of the bench touching your shoulder now going around you, while with the other he reaches for your face, cups it gently in the hope to get you to focus on him, maybe to bring you out of this.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he really, truly is. This isn’t how he imagined it. This isn’t how he wanted it. He’s completely failed to consider that this might be an option, that for you to do anything about what he did, even jump his bones, you would have to be upset. Shame rears its head inside of him again. How could he be so stupid?

He turns you towards him, but the gentleness he hopes will calm you only seems to make things worse, because you open your mouth, lips puffy from crying, lips he wants nothing more than to feel right now, but he can’t, he shouldn’t, and address him without looking at him.

“Who would do something like that?” you say, hiccuping. “How could you– Why did you do that?”

It’s the same question you’ve already asked, but the unspoken answer remains the same. Dean did it because he could. Because he wanted something, saw a way to get it and didn’t care about the consequences. Because he feels justified in burning the house down to make himself warm, and he doesn’t give a shit about who’s asleep in bed upstairs.

“It was stupid,” he says, thumb tracing your skin in the same pattern over and over, to calm you, but honestly, also to calm himself. To reassure him that he fucked up like this and still gets to touch you. That things are gonna be fine, fine, and he can still be close to you. “I– I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did.” A lie. “I’m sorry.” Not a lie.

And then, and Dean could sing at that if he was the type, you lean against him. He raises his chin and your head slots under it so perfectly he thinks this must mean something. Your shoulders go slack, and Dean needs to close his eyes, because this, this, means you still trust him. He hasn't become someone unsafe for you.

He presses you against himself and you keep crying. Dean doesn't want to think about what it means that you are back in his arms despite what he did. He feels guilt at the act, and then more guilt at not pushing you away from him, at not stopping you from returning to him. He's a lucky son of a bitch, and he knows that luck won't hold, it can't, not forever. It's fine.

It's fine, because you lean against him, your smaller body shaking and the Mark rejoices. It wants Dean isolated and alone, but maybe you can be the exception. Maybe you won't question him all the time the way Sam does, make him feel bad about every single fucking decision he makes. Maybe you can be the one he shares all of this with. The one he can finally give himself up to.

He turns your face and looks down at you. Eyes half closed from the crying and there are those puffy lips again. He leans forward and kisses them, deeply, hungrily. He feels you tense for a moment. Then you return the kiss.

He kisses you harder. You seem tired, the way a good long cry makes everyone tired, but you're hurt, so you crave the closeness, the forgiving, the forgetting.

He'll make you forget. He’ll make you forgive.

He’s terrified you’re gonna stop him, any second now. He can’t have that, can’t have you turning from him, so he keeps kissing you, presses his tongue into your mouth and you accept it, press yours against his a moment later.

Heaven, he thinks. Pure and blissful heaven. But now that he’s had a taste, finally has had another taste, he wants all of it.

Without moving his lips away from yours, he begins maneuvering your body, pulling your hips forward, turning himself. His hands go to the button of your jeans, open it with the most delicious pop he’s ever heard, and you’re not telling him to stop, you’re not pushing him away.

It’s close quarters on that backseat. Not like Dean doesn’t know, not like he hasn’t done this. If you would ride him, that would work much better, or even if you got up on all fours. But he’s careful of moving you too much, of waking you from this trance you’re in, this trance that allows him to keep going.

So he awkwardly lays you on your back. Your jeans are around your knees already and getting them the rest of the way off isn’t easy. He manages, but needs to sit up, unlatch from you, and he’s terrified you’re gonna use that moment to tell him to stop.

But you don’t. Your arms are drawn up to your chest, and you’re not looking at him, avoiding his gaze, even. But Dean can’t think about that now. You want him. Maybe you just can’t admit it to yourself.

It’s too much work to do the whole spiel with your underwear too, so Dean simply pushes the fabric of it to the side. He sees your pussy and he wants to appreciate it, push his mouth against it, but he doesn’t have the time, doesn’t have the self control, not now, not right now. He’ll spend time on you next time, but right then, he just needs to have you.

He leans over you again, elbows holding him up. He’s not looking at your face, even though he misses the sight of it, but he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna like what he sees there. He wishes you were enthusiastic, would grab him, pull him in. But you’re not. He’s scared that if he looks at your face he’ll see you’re not really there in the car with him.

He’s pulled down his own suit pants, taken his cock out, hard and wanting without so much as being touched once - the new status quo he has simply accepted when it comes to you. He shuffles around a little, tugs one of your legs up on his side. He needs you that far open so your underwear doesn’t get in the way when he begins pushing into you. Still, he feels the fabric run along his dick. He doesn’t care.

He presses his open mouth against your temple, one hand going to the side of your head, taking a fistful of the hair there, not to pull, but only to steady himself. You make a sound in your throat that could be encouragement or disdain or just air leaving you, but Dean can’t focus, can’t hear it, he can’t concentrate on something like that when he’s finally, finally, inside of you again.

On the first push in - not a lot of resistance, he distantly notes, so maybe you do want him - his stomach twitches and his fist in your hair tightens. It’s almost painful, the muscle contractions, no, it is painful. But it’s also good. He thinks it’s an orgasm, but he doesn’t shoot into you, so he elects to ignore it, groans until it’s passed, then begins moving.

He moans immediately, mouth still pressed against you so you can hear him. Why has he been going out there, fucking hundreds of women, when something like this is possible? How did he have no idea what he was missing out on?

His sounds break the silence of the car, his loud breathing, along with the slight squelch of him going in and out of you. It’s why he hears the voices immediately.

“There’s food all over the floor, I don’t know what happened,” he hears Sam and freezes. A second voice joins him, and of course it’s fucking Cas. They’re a little bit away and Dean’s not immediately sure if they’re coming closer.

“His car’s here,” the angel points out, ever the observant one. “He must have just checked into another room with his… friend. ” Dean shifts just a little, and you whimper at it, so his hand flies to your mouth, presses over it and he looks down at you. Your eyes are glistening in the soft light of the parking lot. A sudden instinct strikes him, and he gives an experimental roll of his hips.

A few things happen at the same time: you make that sound in your throat again, lids fluttering and eyes rolling up for just a second. At the same time, your pussy clenches down on him, a quick, uncontrolled squeeze.

Interesting, Dean thinks. Very interesting.

He pushes forward again, and the same thing happens. His hand is still clasped over your mouth and he pushes a little harder, making your breathing pick up. You like this. You like needing to be quiet, the danger of getting caught. Sam and Cas standing out there, just a few feet away from finding out that you’re allowing Dean to fuck you in the backseat of his car.

He gives a hard thrust, your pussy grabbing him at the sudden stimulation.

“Ssh,” he goes, unable to hide the grin on his face. He says it quietly but it feels loud in the car’s interior. “Don’t want them to hear us, now do we?” It has the desired effect. You move under him, shift around as far as that’s possible. You want him to move, Dean realizes. Oh, that he will.

He starts fucking you again, slow and shallow. The slow part is mostly so that the car’s frame doesn’t squeak, give you two away. But he can’t deny the thrill of seeing your eyebrows pull together, your eyes shutting, trying to concentrate on the feeling. Oh, you love this.

“I’ll call her,” Dean can hear Sam say, barely registering, but then a second later he hears a buzzing in the car. He almost freezes, almost stops, but then he realizes it’s your phone. Your jeans are in the footwell next to him, and he sees it peaking out, the screen lighting up with Sam’s name on the display. He makes a quick decision.

Dean reaches down, grabs the phone, and shoves it between you two. He tilts it so the edge of it presses against your clit, or as close to it as he can find without looking.

He knows he’s hit the spot when you buck up under him, like a wild horse trying to throw him off. What he guesses are involuntary moans shatter against his hand and you’re twitching, squeezing him like crazy, moving around, like you’re trying to get away from the stimulation, but his larger, heavier body is pinning you down, stopping the movement from rocking the car. The phone buzzes, then briefly stops, the buzzes again, but the short breaks aren’t enough for you to recover. Dean grins, even though you’re making an awful ruckus.

“Ssh, ssh,” he presses out, despite your moving and clenching and twitching feeling absolutely amazing, “stop thrashing, they’re gonna find us.” You seem to just register what he’s saying, seemingly try to calm your body, still twitching here and there but giving yourself over to the feeling.

“No answer,” he hears distantly, “let’s wait inside.” He hears footsteps retreating.

Just in time too, because he can’t wait anymore. He pushes himself up, careful not to put too much weight on your head, but still pressing the back of it down into the leather. With the new angle, he can drive into you faster, harder. And he does.

The call is dropped a second later, and Dean tosses the phone somewhere on the ground, not caring. He’s looking down, at where he’s disappearing inside of you, but he can’t go faster, so he lets go of your mouth, grabs your hips, and begins slamming himself into you as quickly as he can.

He needs to come, and he needs to come now. He’s pretty sure his head is gonna explode otherwise. He’s pretty sure his heart is gonna stop if he doesn’t. It’s the only thing on his mind.

He looks up at your face, and it makes his cock twitch violently when he sees what he sees. You’re just pulling your legs up, so as to give Dean more room to move. Your face is flushed, probably both from his hand and from you trying to be quiet, and your lids are low. He looks into your eyes as he keeps thrusting, and you into his.

You moan loudly when your gazes connect. You’re crazy about him, Dean understands in that moment. Just as crazy as he is about you.

“D-Dean,” comes out of you suddenly, the first thing you’ve said since this all started. Dean only has it in him to raise his eyebrows. He’s too busy burying himself in you over and over.

“I– I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” you moan, stammering on the first word. Dean grins, gives an extra hard thrust. He wants you to know how hard he is, all of it for you, and you gasp, then whimper. He gives you another.

“Yeah, look what you do to me,” he grunts, picking up his rhythm again. He lowers his head, almost snarls up at you. “Look what you fucking do to me. Making me fuck you like this.”

You whine again and then, without him needing to do anything else, your hand wanders between your legs, fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quickly. Dean could scream from lust and joy. You want to come. And he’s gonna get you there.

He shuffles, brings his knees more under him. It raises your lower body up but it gives him the purchase he needs to set the pace he desires. He holds you fast in place at your hips as he fucks you, his cock now coming away glistening from your arousal.

You give a loud moan, Dean hitting something in you that makes you even wetter, makes your inner walls flutter like the embrace of a long lost lover or something different, something more alien. He wants to touch every other part of you, but he can feel it building now, feel the tension rising in him.

He comes, groaning loudly, and while he empties himself into you he simply keeps fucking you, his cock twitching like crazy. You throw your head back, making noises that almost sound like pain, and then he feels you come around him, twitching and vibrating. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

He keeps fucking you, making you whine, but still he doesn’t stop. Thank the Mark for what he is able to pull out of his body, or maybe it’s just you, the chemicals of your bodies mixing, undoing all natural laws, because a minute later he feels his balls pull up again, and one arm shoots forward, grabs your jaw, your chin resting in the valley between his thumb and index finger, and he comes again, grinding himself deep into you while he holds you in place.

He’s not sure if he blacks out for a second with the intensity of it, but then he’s blinking, his surroundings coming back into focus. You’re not looking at him, your own eyes closed, Dean’s hand still attached to you. He lets go and pulls it back, before slowly pulling out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You open your eyes, stare at the ceiling of the car. Both of you are still breathing hard, your chest rising and falling, the movement absolutely mesmerizing to Dean.

“Yes,” you say, quietly. Dean sniffs.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he says.

Dean and you walk into the motel room and Sam drops the phone he’s holding in both hands on the table in front of him.

“There you are,” he says, voice tense. “Is everything okay?”

Dean walks over to the table, past Castiel, and puts the two armfuls of food he’s carrying down. You walk in too, close the door behind you, then stand there while Sam and Cas both look at you.

“I came back and I thought something happened,” Sam says, standing up, looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “I tried calling.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice coming out a little cracked, “sorry, phone died. I got in and I…” You look down at where the rug of the room is still slightly darker because of the spilled drink.

“Sorry,” you say again, still looking down. “I was embarrassed and I just wanted to get the food, because I knew you’d be hungry when you came back. And Dean too.”

The story has more holes than a sinking ship. It’s ridiculous, actually, and it feels nearly offensive to be telling it, to assume that anyone would believe it. Still, your brain feels pinned, frozen, and it’s all you can come up with.

“Who cares?” Dean says in the general direction of his brother as he sits down in one of the chairs, drags one of the styrofoam containers towards him and opens it. “Everyone’s alive. We got food. Can we eat?” Cas turns to you, takes an extra step towards you and lays his hand on your shoulder.

“So long as you’re okay,” he says and you force a smile onto your face, nod. Try to ignore the tackiness between your legs, the one you were violently aware of standing in the glaring light of the fast food restaurant, waiting in line, again, now next to Dean. It made you shudder and he turned to you, but you pretended you didn’t notice. You’re gonna have to take a shower later, even though you already took one at the bunker earlier.

Dean is already chomping down and Cas moves away from you, looking over the banquet and with a small smile reaches for the new Coke you got him. Only Sam isn’t moving. He’s watching the scene, a slight frown on his face. Dean notices, raises his eyebrows at his brother.

“Come on, man,” he says after swallowing, “your rabbit food’s gonna get cold or whatever.” But Sam still doesn’t sit, instead crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“So did you two get the food together?” he asks, trying to make his voice lighter than it actually is, you think. “Cause we saw your car in the parking lot, Dean. After you left Cas at the bar.” There’s accusation in the last part, and it bubbles to the surface as Dean slows his chewing and a cold shiver goes through you.

“I went for a little post-coital drive,” Dean says, not taking his eyes off his brother. The lie comes to him so shockingly easy. Dean reaches for a napkin, dabs at his mouth before he straightens in his seat.

“You know the ones, Sammy?” he asks, a slight challenge in his voice. “Oh right, you don’t. You don’t get laid.”

It’s just a joke. It’s just the kind of joke Dean makes and Sam rolls his eyes at and that’s it, harmless. But of course it’s not. It’s heavy with meaning. You’re reminded of the stickiness between your legs. You should just excuse yourself to the bathroom but you feel like you can’t move, like that would be so obvious. Why would you go to the bathroom other than to clean Dean’s come off yourself?

Sam huffs, much too late. It’s forced, not genuine, but, to your utmost relief, he finally sits down. Dean begins chewing again while Castiel briefly looks between you two and Sam stares at the mountain of food for a few seconds before reaching for what is clearly his.

You move, finally, stepping forward as if you’ve never stepped forward before. Every single movement feels mechanical, and after what feels like an eternity, you reach the table, sit down, once more reminded of the mess in your underwear. Dean pulled the seat of it over your crotch once he’d pulled out. Keep that in there, he said, and you only nodded.

You’re looking down at the table, too nervous to make another move when suddenly a wrapped sandwich is held before you. You look up. It’s Dean, reaching across the table, holding it out to you. He’s looking at your face, his expression completely neutral. For a moment, it might as well just be the two of you in this room.

Your hand goes up, and you take the sandwich from him. Dean pulls his hand back, keeps looking at you for another second. There’s a thousand things you could interpret into that stare, but you don’t know what you actually see there. So you look down at the food in front of you. It twists your stomach to think about it. But it’s not the only thing you think about.

You think about Dean, above you there in the backseat of his car. About how it felt like he couldn’t stop himself. You didn’t want him to, you think, although you’re not sure. You’re not sure what you want at all. This feeling afterwards, this dread in your stomach - it shouldn’t be like that, right? It shouldn’t feel this way.

You think about him, moving inside you. About him pressing his hand over your mouth. You liked it, because it felt like you didn’t need to make a choice. It wasn’t like pushing him off you and alerting Sam and Cas to your presence was an option. So you might as well enjoy it.

You don’t know what to think. Shame burns hot in your chest, but not as hot as in your core, or the rest of your body, all of it screaming for Dean.

[smallestapplin]

If Blades is the one to ask his s/o if they’d still love him if he was a worm…

How would Chase, Heatwave, and Boulder react to their s/o (human) asking the same question to them?

I love shit like this so much, I put my bussy into this

No warnings! Just fluff and sillies.

-

-

Chase

You know how your boyfriend is, you should’ve known a question like this would’ve caused some confusion but that was the point, you live for keeping this mech on his pedes. You’re sat so cute in his lap as he reads a manual, ensuring he knows how a new device the Burns got works. You can’t help but look up at him, loving how focused he looks.

Always so cute in your eyes.

“Hey, Chase, I have a question if you don’t mind me asking.”

You love how in an instant he places the book down on his knee to look at you, giving you his undivided attention.

“I do not mind, please, ask away. I am happy to be of service.”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You try not to laugh as he blinks rapidly as if trying to process what you just asked of him.

“Humans can turn into worms?” He asks in turn, bewildered at the concept or mere thought.

You snort at how shocked he sounds, “No, but if I did become one, would you still love me?”

“Do humans spontaneously get turned into worms, is this a realy threat to your kind that I was not aware of? Can worms even feel that level of emotions? I don’t recall worms having high intellegic to experience such complex emotions. Ah, hold on, dear.”

Chase picks you up and sets you down on the couch along with his manual, and walks over to the bookshelf as he begins to look for books about worms and animals in general.

“Chase, just a simple yes or no works.”

“But worms cannot feel what I feel for you, that and from this book my guess would be correct. In fact would you be able to feel as a worm, or would this be a worm with the brain module of you inside it? Or is it that when you turn into a worm, you fully become a worm and lose yourself in the process?”

Chase keeps rambling asking question after question that you can’t seem to keep up with as he thinks of every last possible scenario, and the different combination, and yet asking them so quickly you don’t even get a chance to ask them. You can only watch as he starts pacing the room as he talks unable to stay still for too long.

You smile, realizing this was your own doing, you set yourself up for this fate and now you must listen to him learn more about worms and ask questions about you being a worm in real time.

He’s so cute though.

You might(will) kiss him after he’s done rambling.

-

-

Boulder

Gardening with your big Cybertronian beloved on such a nice day was something you’d never grow tired of, you love telling him about the flowers or vegetables you’ve planted, love how gentle he is with them and helps you moving the bigger stuff. Boulder is a dream, especially as you two sit under a big tree, taking in the nice spring day.

You sit on top of his shoulder leaning against his helm as he enjoys the sight of butterflies and bees moving peacefully around your flowers, occasionally only being broken up but his chuckles as you place a kiss to his cheek. Boulder could get use to life being like this, calm and domestic with you, it makes him wonder if a human and cybertronian can spark bond, he wouldn’t mind this forever.

“Hey, Boulder?”

“Yes, my sweetpea?’

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You lean away from hos helm to look at him, and to at least allow him to look at you too without disturbing you. Boulder’s optics widen a bit, a worm? Why would you ever be a worm? He’s never heard of humans turning into such a thing, and the idea of anything bad happening to you worries him to his core, but at the end of the day it would still be you, right?

Boulder smiles, carefully raising his servos to grab a hold of you and hold you up in front of him, his orange optics soften at the pure sight of you before he presses a kiss to your face, his engine rumbling softly as you start laughing at how much it tickles.

“I would find the best sized tank for you, get you the best soil I could find and fill it up with so many good and nutritious plants for you, find you little leaves and make your enclosure so pretty for you.” Boulder nuzzles his face against your stomach, smile stretching across his dermas.

“I’d make sure you soil is nice and clean every day, make sure you have plenty of water and natural sunlight when it gets too much. You’d be my little wormy.”

You can’t help but place your hands on his cheeks and lavish his face plate in all the kisses you could possibly give him, making the large mech giggle sweetly under all your affection. He holds you close, snuggly against his chassis. Boulder never wants anything to happen to you, he couldn’t live with himself if you were ever hurt.

But that wouldn’t stop him from doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, to tend to you, to love you even then, nothing could change how his spark felt for you.

Though don’t be surprised when his pet name for you goes from ‘sweetpea’ to ‘wormy’.

-

-

Heatwave

You think he’d ever let you away from him? Let you out sass him? Please, you don’t even know it yet but he will turn the conversation back around. Heatwave is stubborn and as quick with his intake as he is his pedes, his glossa can be vicious if you aren’t careful, yet he’s so adoring and attentive to you, surely this conversation would go well!

You are laying across his chassis in his habsuite, his optics are closed but you know he’s still awake. A servo on your legs and thumb rubbing slow lazy circles across your back, allowing you to full relax into him, enjoying the gentle touches and warmth of his much larger body.

“Wavey?” Your voice slightly muffled as your cheek is pressed against his chassis and youdon’t feel like moving too much.

“Hm?” He hums in return, acknowledging you but also not wanting to move much, as he’s enjoying having some peaceful downs time with you.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

All his movements stop in an instant and he doesn’t make a sound for a solid minute before sighing heavily, cracking his optics open just to look down at you with a playful glare.

“Why would you want to a be worm, huh? Just to get away from me?”

“W-what? No!” You lift up on your forearms to look at him better, but he’s not having it.

“Oh so just being in the dirt is more fun than being with me? I see, I see how it is, you hate me and want me dead.”

“Noooo!” You whine pitifully, flopping back down before crawling up higher to meet his face.

Your give him a playful glare, angry pout on your lips while he has a shit eating grin across his face, knowing damn well what he’s doing and what you are asking.

“I just wanted to ask if you’d still love me if I was uselsss-“

“You think you could be useless to me? You really think that lowly of me?”

“Heatwave no, please, you know I love you!”

“And I love you too, so what’s the problem?”

Your head clunks as you drop it back against his chassis, sighing heavily as your stubborn mech of a boyfriend will not back down on this, this is a hill he will not only die on but drag you down with him, you just know it.

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm is the problem.” You pout, looking up at him with am exaggerated pleading expression.

Heatwave just stares at you almost wondering how he made it this far with you, until he remembers how dull his world would be without you. He rolls his optics with a huff, as if he’s doing you such a huge favor, though you know it’s mostly played up for the bit.

“You know good and well I’d let this slagging rock burn if anything happened to you, how dare you doubt me.”

“I’m not doubting you.”

“Then hush and try to recharge.”

he leans his helm back and closes his optics again, trying to at least get some shut eye before the morning comes, and with that would be new emergencies. You sudden in getting comfy once more, with him about to put his servo back on you, until you spoke again.

“Heatwave?”

“Now what?”

“Can I get a kiss before bed?”

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” He groans, but that soft smile is back on his face as he sits up a little, moving you to keep you safe and to bring you higher, pressing his dermas to your soft lips, before laying back down again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetspark.”

He’s so dramatic but you love him for it.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Do you have any Delta and/or Beta headcanons?

I like to think their system operates somewhat similar to a fusion from Steven Universe. Most of the time they are Delta —and appear to be like a singlet.

The reason for this is because Sans is legitimately struggling to operate as only Sans, as separate from the Bravery soul. So for awhile, Sans and the Bravery soul were fused together as Delta, because it gave Sans the bravery to continue functioning.

Eventually, however, it fell apart. I’d like to think it started actually when the bravery soul started remembering more about his previous life—and he could no longer simply function as just Bravery.

Perhaps this was also around the time when either Color and Epic seemed to drift more away towards Killer and Cross, or even around the time they moved out.

With both Beta and Sans struggling so much separately and unable to maintain a fusion, they decided to seek out therapy for themselves and figure out how to work together.

Because now that Beta was gaining more..individuality and self awareness i suppose, developing more but also remembering more, their teamwork was also starting to fall apart.

With time and effort, the two manage to learn to find balance as separate individuals sharing a body, and a mind, and a life.

And they start using their fusion as Delta as a way to find comfort and stability, to try and be closer too, instead of just purely as a last restore lifeline because they couldn’t Sans was struggling with depression and PTSD and the Bravery soul was not just a fully separate, developed individual capable of functioning without Sans in the body fused or blended with it.

Everyone out in the external multiverse will refer to them as Delta, regardless of if they’re actually fused together or not. But as home, in private, with their friends and family—they alternate between their names as Beta and Sans, and Delta when they’re not just Beta or just Sans.

I like to think the animals in the Chromatic Crew household can definitely tell the difference, too.

I also like to think that Delta doesn’t often have amnesia barriers between their two halves, even when they’re not fused together.

There’s still definitely dissociation of course, particularly when encountering a trauma trigger for either Sans or Beta that either triggers one to the front immediately or destabilizes the fusion, but most of the time it’s mostly “emotional” amnesia.

I like to think that, unlike Color, Delta doesn’t have a headspace. Whenever the two aren’t fused and only one is fronting, the other usually is watching from the backseat or is “asleep,” as they describe it.

They have always had pretty good internal communication, but during episodes of intense dissociation, they will verbalize their back and forth conversations out loud to each other.

It helps them to stay focused and grounded, even if they have to block out and ignore the external world and its people for a brief moment—and even if that causes people to give them weird looks if it ever happens in public.

Color has never once found these moments strange, even back when he wasn’t aware of that they were two, not one. He would literally just sit and journal while the two just talked to themselves out loud. At the most he would find the sounds of their voices and breathing grating and annoying and would literally just get up and walk away mid conversation.

Delta enjoys sparring with Cross and Swap, I feel. Delta was also the one who encouraged Cross to join him in participating in the Omega Timeline’s Coliseum, and two of them have earned a reputation as a duo.

I like to think that although the Coliseum is Beta’s favorite location in the OT, Grillby’s is actually Sans’.

It was actually on Sans’ idea that Delta first told Color about the existence of that Grillby’s and was the one who suggested going together, hoping to both help his friend and maybe attempt to connect and bond with Color this way. Unfortunately for them both, it didn’t turn out as they were both hoping for.

The food was amazing. But nothing else was anything approaching familiar for Color. Delta had to tell him what his favorite food used to be, and Color thought the jukebox was on the left. He doesn’t remember if Grillby’s ever had a vending machine or not. Delta still goes to this restaurant occasionally, but it somehow felt lonelier than usual—even though he could feel that his two halves were still there with him.

Beta had a panic attack the first time he fronted alone in the body, and the sounds of bones clinking and rattling together still sends him into hyperventilating.

Delta likes retro-gaming, thanks to Beta’s half of the fusion. Inspired by Color’s tendency towards hoarding and collecting—specifically photos, journals/notebooks, and music records in Color’s case—Delta also started tentatively collecting older video games and consoles.

Unlike Color who enjoys being on the move after years of being forced and confined to one location, Delta is used to being on the move—both as Beta, but also as Delta traveling and hopping between AUs.

They’re trying to get used to being in one steady location in the Omega Timeline, and trying to allow themselves to trust the stability. Starting with trying to make their home seemed lived in, and allowing possessions that aren’t purely for survival’s sake.

Delta also got the actual delta and beta symbols tattooed somewhere on their body, perhaps around their collarbone or hands. It looks like this:

Not only is it just the symbols of their chosen names together on their shared body, not only are these symbols commonly used in math and science—and so those who love mathematics, science, engineering, etc. may choose to get these symbols as tat—but according to Google, the delta symbol spiritually means;

“In a spiritual context, the delta symbol (Δ) is often associated with change, transformation, and the Holy Trinity, particularly within Christian traditions, and can also represent the concept of a divine ternary or triad.”

And the beta symbol not only means this, but can also means something like;

“In a spiritual context, "beta" can refer to the second letter of the Greek alphabet, often used to denote something secondary or a stage of development, and can also be associated with brainwave activity during alert, focused states.

In Hinduism, "Beta" signifies a term of endearment used by Nimai to address the cowherd boys as his sons, highlighting a deep, affectionate bond and a sense of familial connection within their community

In neuroscience, "beta" brainwaves (12-30 Hz) are associated with alert, active, and focused states, such as when solving problems, making decisions, or engaging in critical thinking.

While not a universally accepted spiritual term, some interpretations link "beta" brainwaves to a more active, external focus, contrasting with the more relaxed, inward-focused states associated with alpha and theta brainwaves.”

I was also thinking that, maybe to remember and honor Frisk, they got the alpha and/or epsilon symbols tattooed on their body, too.

The Alpha not only goes with the Omega—Chara—but is said to represent a beginning, so together they represent “the beginning and the end.” The epsilon is even used to refer to children sometimes. You can find that here.

(Also side note, according to this, “In music, more accurately in jazz, delta represents a major seventh chord.” And I feel that’s something along the lines that Color said to Delta sometime after their first meeting. Because Integrity knew it.)

But I was also thinking maybe Ultratale/Vitaltale Frisk could potentially be nicknamed Theta, because it’s apparently a symbol of death and Thanatos in Ancient Greece, but that felt a little too on the nose. And I didn’t feel like doing extensive research into every Greek alphabet letter at the moment.

And of course, Frisk died in their AU and never went into the Multiverse like Beta and Sans did, so they of course don’t officially have a nickname. So perhaps Sans just gets whatever letter makes him think of them.

[hoiststowline]

_bluestreak x reader

"You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

proposed to ease your nerves, though it only was accepted as a opportunity to deny it even more, kept willingly under lock and key. it was uncomplicated to draw up a facade, if it could even be defined as such. to feel so effortlessly at peace in someones presence was more than enough of a problem solver, if only momentarily. not a permanent solution, but one could pretend as long as they'd have your poor company.

"I'm fine," you insist, as an awkward smile appears, though transparent to see the candor within your expression.

"Yeah, and you just avoided the question." bluestreak counters, indisputably seeing directly through your horrible front.

owlishly blinking, you pause, searching to remember just what he'd asked. "What do you mean?"

"You can say you're good all you want, I'll listen even if I don't agree. But if there really was something upsetting you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?" he’s being somewhat pushy, aware of his building forwardness, yet there’s something just below the surface to be uprooted here. bluestreak can see it well in your eyes, a shred of glassiness that returns when you fall silent amongst conversation.

every so often, you cast a glance to his mirror, as if to display that you were listening and not avoiding such a parley. it was only adding to his unease, recalling the approach of not meeting someones eyes when not speaking the truth. it didn't happen often, not at all, he can properly recall one time before this and that was over something so trivial that he laughed out loud afterwards.

it's a tactic he's familiar with, it's not just adhered only to organic psychology. cybertronians do it as well, bad liars even more than the average tearaway. bluestreak's no stranger to your mannerisms, but this one remains foreign enough to question, troubled regarding your sham of a show of being 'fine'.

“I…would, yes.” carefully considering your choice of words, molars find the inside of your cheek to lamely bite down.

bluestreak doesn't immediately reply, perhaps thinking you would let go of a little more information than that. silence overcomes the cabin, and for the first time it's uncomfortable, shoulders dropping from your ears after you've realized how tense you had been.

hoping you’ve dodged a bullet, you move to redirect the discussion with half-parted lips, anything else but this on the tip of your tongue.

never quite far from where it consumes you whole, you freeze at his next question.

“You swear?”

now contiguously locking gazes with the mirror, there was no amount of guilt that could sway you to lie, even if you couldn’t presently see his face. while every temptation begged you to let this one die here, to escape such an interrogation, it would be in vain. the end result would be irreparable damage, bending an unspoken promise about honesty and trust that you knew were very important to bluestreak.

as if he read your mind, bluestreak’s dashboard crackles with frustration, immense concern and worry piling within his chassis. “So why are you lying?”

he’s right. bluestreak has been right for the past hour, gently nudging you to try and spill whatever had you trapped like a vise.

your behavior was helping nobody.

“I’m not lying,” you try, to which he returns a grumbled thrum. “Bending the truth a bit, sure.”

“That’s not funny, if it’s supposed to be a joke,” he replies, to which you turn toward the window at the passenger seat, drawing your knees to your chest.

eyes going mildly wide, you then immediately spin back toward the dashboard. “You just passed my street.”

“Oops.” is all he says, more of a deadpan than a jest.

if you thought for one second that he was going to drop you off and let this go, you were sorely mistaken. how could he in good conscience? especially since you’ve just admitted that something was a amiss, why would he give you proper route to dodge the exchange any longer?

swallowing thickly, you dare to ask the question you already know the return to. “Are you going to circle back or...?"

"No," bluestreak answers, moving back toward more local roads. "I'm good, thanks."

you can feel a sensation of melancholy rise to your chest, so proudly even after you'd done the absolute most to keep it at bay. it didn't feel good to unload your problems to the next person when they didn't deserve it, in particular bluestreak.

"Let's try this again,"

you go to object, but he promptly continues. "Sorry, I don't take suggestions for the topic at the present, but you're welcome to complain about it later."

he wasn't trying to be comical, but delivery was more witty than he had originally calculated. what bluestreak didn't expect was for you to laugh, softly at first before riling up into a full blown fit.

he gives you a moment to recover, but you don't extend any sort of explanation concerning it.

"What?" he rumbles, a breath of a laugh within his words as well. "What did I say?"

"You're just...really funny," you hum, relaxing a bit back into the leather of the seat. "Okay, fine. Promise you'll take me home if I tell?"

bluestreak pretends to mull it over, but it only takes three seconds to sputter out his reply. "I'm not ready for you to go home just yet. So maybe a few more laps around town after you spill?"

"Deal." using your hand, you wipe away some of the happy tears that had gathered on the rim of your eyes.

[amazingdigitalheadcanons]

HOLD ON *dumps pieces of scrap paper on to a table* I GOT A WHOLE BUNCH

-Kinger taught Queenie how to shoot a gun with deadly accuracy

-Kinger and Queenie know how to dance

-Caine in the past would use other character’s lives in the circus as inspiration for his adventures, now he does it subconsciously

-Spudsy meat is made out of Dobby

-Caine’s existence is what’s keeping them trapped in the circus (the circus cannot exist without him, he is its heart and brain) (he’s not even aware of this)

-Adventures used to be once a week because Caine was still new to the whole ordeal (the NPCs sucked)

-In the early days, NPCs used to make a constant appearance in other adventures, but later on they took up too much space so now they’re all mannequins

-What makes up an abstraction is dead code trying to fix itself and failing

-Abstraction is incredibly painful, even afterwards the abstractions can “feel themselves rotting”

-If a player is still in the map while it’s deleted, a “forced abstraction” will occur (the only technically “true” way to die without abstracting the normal way)

-A “forced” abstractee is much different from a normal abstracted, mainly because they didn’t “go crazy” and abstracted (and therefore “kill” their own coding. Instead their code is mangled after falling into “the point of no return” and overcompensate by absorbing the game’s own code

Mini Theory Ahead‼️

-While Kinger did have role in his wife’s death, Caine was also to blame for her abstraction. But instead of taking the blame, he put everything on Kinger, even after when Kinger went insane he continued to fully blame him and even gaslit Kinger into believing he was fully responsible for Queenie’s death.

“Now, being in a position of power like this, you coooould offload the blame to one of your employees and avoid the dock on your score. What do you think?” -Caine to Gangle in Caine’s office, Episode 4 Fast Food Masquerade, 20:45

ACCORDING to Caine, using the backstory of Baron Theodore Mildenhall. What Kinger did to Queenie was comparable to SHOOTING YOUR OWN WIFE

HOWEVER

For someone who is a REAL PERSON, and had something comparable to BEING SHOT BY HER HUSBAND happen to her, Queenie, in the worst state of her life (mentally and physically). DID NOT attack Kinger in the pillowfort despite him “shooting her”, and even leaned into his hand when he touched her.

You could argue that the shooting was more of an “emotional bullet”, however that would not explain why she was so relaxed with him there IN THE WORST STATE OF HER LIFE

Which I would say that it’s more of how Kinger felt about the situation, that he essentially shot his own wife. Not literally, not anything that would equate to that, just the guilt he feels afterwards. Which was what I believed until that line with Caine in his office.

Caine is not a malevolent being, he does not want to cause harm to others. However, he is still an AI that doesn’t fully understand humans.

“W-Well, I don’t know what’s NORMAL to you people!” -Caine in response to Gangle asking for a more normal adventure, Episode 4, 2:50

The entire adventure in episode 3 was for Caine to make something Zooble would like

“Why did you think I would like that?” -Zooble after Pomni explained her and Kinger’s adventure, Episode 4, 2:06

I don’t need to explain the Zooble Therapy Session

There’s more quotes, however I’m going to be saving them for once I make this into a proper theory on my own blog AND this is supposed to be about headcanons not theories!

But the point I’m trying to make is there might be a little more to Queenie’s death that Caine might have more of a role in. Besides, Kinger never struck me as a guy who would hurt his own wife. At least not something comparable to shooting the poor woman. (It’s an emotional bullet, I know, but there’s just something off to me with Kinger being the sole reason why Queenie is dead ((only one shooter)))

Anyways, theory over‼️

-New arrivals aren’t quite linear as sometimes they appear right after someone abstractions, or several months after. Sometimes, they just get added onto the roster without anyone dying

-The Cellar is actually quite big, but they all like to hang around spots where Caine likes to open the cellar at in order to greet the new arrival

-Kinger has very bad survivor’s guilt and just knows instinctually when someone’s going down the spiral to abstraction

-Gangle spent weeks struggling to pick out a name until Jax came along and named her himself and everyone just went along with it

-The first to abstract the arguably the worst since nobody knew what to do or what it was, even Caine didn’t know

-The more violent the abstraction process, the more dangerous and destructive the abstraction

-Kaufmo is one of the weakest abstractions in the Cellar

-The reason why abstractions are so aggressive in light is due to overstimulation

-Despite what he wants people to believe, Jax isn’t actually good with guns

-It took a LOT of begging for Caine to allow them to have guns that didn’t suck

-If you speak in a language that The Amazing Digital Circus isn’t translated in, you can swear in that language

-Slowly players will naturally forget details of their old lives until they’re not sure why they put on the headset

-After seeing what happened with his loved ones after they abstracted, especially his wife, Kinger developed a fear of hurting anyone. Not quite in a pushover way but still in a very self-destructive I-would-sacrifice-my-own-sanity-to-keep-everyone-safe (and in a way he did, although it ended up hurting the others more to see him like that)

-Dobby’s favorite food was hotdogs and put the Spudsy suggestion in the box

-The suggestion box came after Queenie’s death to keep everyone’s mind off of things

-Kinger and Queenie used to make minor suggestions for Caine in his adventures, but after they were gone he made the suggestion box UNDER that premise of “keeping everyone’s mind off of things”. In reality, he wanted advice. But nobody really cared so he forgot about it

-Queenie used to hold her own hand when she was nervous or stressed (whenever Kinger noticed this he held her hand)

-Kinger now holds his own hand when he’s stressed or scared (the same hand where Queenie used to hold it when he got like that)

-The Moon is in love with Caine, and nobody knows who programmed her to be like that

Now that's a lot of headcanons (positive)

wHo GaVe KiNgEr a GuN?

I absolutely love all of these headcanons!

[fuckitupfelix]

hello there, how are you doing?

I don't really know how to start a request since English isn't my first language, but could you write something with Kuroo tending to the reader's wounds after he gets into a fight? 🙏

By the way, thank God you write male reader, it's not so easy to find many in this app

hello anon im doing great !! thank you for the req and i agree i can barely ever find male reader fics sometimes 😔

STARTAFIGHT

kuroo tetsuro x male reader

wc: 1.8k

he's caught feelings for someone that thinks more with his fists than his head.

when kuroo gets your text that you need help, his first instinct is to panic. it isn't often that you reach out for support of any kind, let alone to him. hell, sometimes he thinks you genuinely do hate him. he shoves that little voice in the back of his head down. the heart wants what it wants, i guess...?

but he's quick to run over to your house, where he finds you standing out front. your hair's a mess, there's blood dripping from your nose, your knuckles are a mix of deep reds and muddy purples, and if he was being completely honest— as he always was— you looked like shit.

"hey." kuroo breathes out, trying to play off his quick arrival; as if he didn't sprint down six blocks to get there. he stands fully, clearing his throat and speaking again. "you need help." it wasn't a question; anyone with eyes could see that you had the crap beat out of you.

"you should see the other guy," you murmur, and there's the hint of a smile on your face. kuroo scoffs at that. of course you're acting normal. this is just an average tuesday for you.

"alright, idiot, c'mon," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "you're gonna get an infection— and don't pick at your scabs." he adds that last part with a swat of his hand, grabbing your wrist as you began to pick at the dried blood. he drags you to your house, taking the key from your hand and unlocking the door, pushing it open.

"are your parents home?" he asks, slipping his shoes off. you follow, tucking both pairs in the corner. he can't help but notice you wince when your knuckles brush against the wall.

"nah. they've got some work event, or something. they'll be out late." you scoff, shrugging your sweater off and hanging it up. before you can think of any other small talk to make to fill the silence, kuroo moves straight to your kitchen. you follow.

kuroo glances around and takes the view in. this is only the second time he's ever been to your house, and the last time was to return your kneepads you left at the gym. he spares you a glance, and you're already sat at a chair in the corner of the kitchen, eyebrows set back into their furrowed look. he clears his throat, and you get the hint, thankfully.

"uh, first aid kit's under the sink. left cupboard." you say. kuroo nods.

the next twenty minutes or so are spent in silence from the moment the cupboard is opened to when he presses the alcohol wipe to each of your knuckles. he can't help but frown when he hears you grit your teeth and hiss.

"sorry," is the only thing he can think to say. he wipes his now-sweaty palms on his pants and grabs the gauze. "so, can you debrief me really quickly on how this happened?" he asks, pressing a cotton pad onto one of your fingers.

you stare at him for a moment before speaking. "this guy was being an asshole," you state simply, like that was a valid explanation. kuroo sputters out a laugh at that, and your hand that's being wrapped balls into a fist. "what?"

"that's hardly an explanation!" he laughs. your shoulders loosen— you weren't even aware that you were so tense.

"right." you huff out.

"relax, i'm just curious. getting your ass beat isn't helpful when nationals are around the corner, is all," he chuckles. he's been finished with your hand for a while, but he doesn't let go of it, holding it gently.

"you're worried about me?" you scoff. you should feel offended, right? ignoring the small feeling of warmth in the back of your mind, you continue. "i'm not fragile. and besides, i don't go out looking for fights. not really. people start shit with me, kuroo."

kuroo hums at that. his fingers curl around your wrist, and you can feel his grip tighten slightly. instinctively, you jerk your hand away from his. part of you regrets that. he brushes it off, standing up finally.

"i know. but you're still only human. can't go losing our star player, can we?" kuroo drawls sarcastically, ruffling your hair. he purposefully ignores your glare. "right, well, i've pretty much finished. have you had dinner yet?"

"no? i came straight home." kuroo groans at that. you're an idiot. "if you're gonna fuck your body up, you might as well try and help it fix itself. i'll order pizza."

"you're staying?" you ask, standing up.

"do you want me to?"

to kuroo's surprise, there's no scoff or snarky response— you just nod. "yeah. that'd be nice." you say quietly. "we can wait in my room." you don't bother checking if he follows you; you can hear his footsteps behind you.

kuroo's not sure what he was expecting from your room, but somehow this wasn't it. it was very clean and proper, with a few movie posters up on the walls and some books stacked on your nightstand. your bedsheets were fuzzy and (fav.color), and you had a few stuffed animals nestled in the corner of your bed. you notice his expression and frown.

"what?" you snap. he blanches.

"nothing, nothing! i just wasn't expecting your room to be so... cute." he says, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. 'is he being for real?!' you think incredulously.

"it's.. cute? did you expect there to be blood on my walls?" you scoff, crossing your arms.

"well..." he trails off. he barks out a laugh at your scowl. "joking! but this definitely wasn't the room i was expecting for the [name] i know." he grabs one of the stuffed animals from the other end of your bed; a brown puppy.

"..so are you gonna order that pizza?" you ask after a while, and kuroo's eyes snap up to your face. shit. how long was he staring at your plushie for? he probably looks like a creep.

"yeah, yeah. you're fine with just cheese, right?" he asks, pulling his phone out.

by the time the pizza gets to your house, the sun has set and the two of you sat on your floor in the dark, watching a ghibli movie on your laptop. kuroo chances a glance over at you, and he's enamoured by the sight; your knees are pulled up to your chest, that same dog stuffie in your lap, and your eyes are glued to the screen. you seem a lot less scarier than how you normally present yourself. it was adorable.

you're hardly aware that kuroo wasn't focused on the movie, your attention only being broken by the doorbell ringing. "oh. pizza's here." you lean over to pause the movie, but kuroo stands up.

"keep watching. i'll grab it." he says, stepping out before you can protest. he returns a few minutes later with the pizza box in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. you finally pause the movie, and he flicks the lights on.

"what's in the bag?" you ask as kuroo sits back down next to you. he sets the box down, and pulls out two cans of soda from the bag, holding one out to you.

you take it, cracking it open immediately and taking a long sip. "god, that's refreshing," you sigh, slumping back against the side of the bed.

the both of you were too lazy to grab plates, so you just ate out of the box, letting the movie continue to play as you ate. it was so odd, you thought, that kuroo was even still here. he patched you up and bought you food. hell, you weren't even sure that he was going to come when you texted him; it's not like you two were particularly close.

'but he came anyways,' you remind yourself, taking another bite of your pizza. "thanks, kuroo," you say, and he turns to look at you properly. "for helping me. and buying me dinner. and staying here, i guess." did you always sound this stupid?

"of course, [name]. don't mention it." he grins, ruffling your hair again, earning a groan from you. "i'm glad you reached out at all."

after smoothing down your hair from kuroo's assault on your head, you give him a confused look. "why wouldn't i? you're team captain. i trust you." and for some reason, that hit him hard.

does he actually say anything? fuck no! he just laughs it off, saying something about how he's just "doing his job". but he can't help the feeling that's gnawing at him. he should say something. he really should. 'fuck it.'

"also, [name]," he starts, scooting closer to you and resting his arm above you on the bed. "i've got something to confess," he looks down at you, waiting; waiting for you to cringe at the proximity, to shove him away, to ignore him, anything. but you don't move.

"okay? if it's some weird bullshit, man, i swear," you start, and he cuts you off with his cackle. for such a tough guy, you were so oblivious. he decides to test the waters, letting his arm drop down to your shoulder. that earns him a sideways glance, your eyebrows furrowing.

"it's not, i promise. come on, you just said you trusted me," he snorts.

"wh— yeah. sure, what is it?"

"i want to go out with you." he hums, tilting his head.

oh.

"what the fuck?"

that was not the answer he was looking for. he stiffens up, slowly pulling his arm away from you. "i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, [name]—"

"no—! no, fuck, sorry. i just wasn't expecting that," you cut him off, cringing at yourself. "but are you being serious right now? cause if you're fucking with me right now—"

"i'm not! seriously, [name], d'you think i'm that much of an ass?" he scoffs.

"..yeah?"

"WHAT??"

"shut up! you're always screwing around with everyone. i can never tell when you're being genuine," you mutter, crossing your arms. kuroo sighs, leaning closer to you again.

"well, i'm being dead serious right now. i like you. go out with me sometime, as a date. please." he hums, his eyes glued to your face. he sounded so sincere— so genuine— you start to feel warm.

you open and close your mouth a couple times, trying to formulate the right words, but you keep coming up blank. "yes. yeah. i'd—" you groan, rubbing a hand over your face, and for a moment he thinks you're regretting this—

"yeah. i'd love to go out with you." you sigh, an actual smile on your face. you lean closer to him, and he thinks you're going to kiss him. instead, you punch his shoulder. "but this? this isn't a date, just to clarify. i deserve something proper."

god, you're going to be the death of him. but it's so worth it.

i was not supposed to write allat but oh well :p hope you liked it!!

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, Not Feelings! [Headcanons]

[ NOTE: This goes with my long series fic Catch Kira, Not Feelings! but you don't have to be reading that to get the gist of this ‘Co-worker L’ headcanons! ]

Small collection of headcanons I have for Co-worker! L [SFW & NSFW below the cut!]

small a/n at the end~

~~~~~~~~~~

Co-worker! L Who doesn’t have much of an opinion of you when Mr. Yagami brings your resume to him one evening. He skims it over and doesn’t dwell on the long lists of your achievements; what stands out to him is the glowing recommendation the older man and his son seem to have of you. (Not that Light was aware that his subtle brags about you to the task force had an impact on your future employment) L keeps the resume with a variety of other papers on his desk and after Watari’s background check is complete, he’s more eager to see why the Yagami family is so fixated on you than anything else. 

Co-worker! L  Who is speechless at his first impression of you; the resume you offer certainly doesn’t do you justice. Solving through his test within minutes, working well alongside everyone immediately, and you offer him just enough trust considering his elusive identity…  on top of that you're the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen???

He thought the fact Light spoke so highly of you must be indicative of something malicious– maybe a follower/disciple of Kira, not the complete opposite. 

Smart, charming, and easy to talk to? Yep, L is gone.

Co-worker! L Knows why he always offers you special tasks and private methods of communication. On one hand, he gets to put your genuine deductive abilities to good use… and on the other hand, he gets an excuse to see you more. 

He knows it’s dumb and childish, but that doesn’t change the way his body just craves to be near you. (Desserts just don’t taste the same when you’re not sitting beside him reviewing suicide notes :( ) Though in all honesty, the feeling is extremely foreign, but not unwelcome to him. 

Ryuzaki’s always been too busy to entertain anything outside of work, and part of him felt like he was missing out on actually experiencing life. He’s pushed that feeling down more times than he can count. But as soon as he learns that not all evenings need to be spent alone, working on cases, and mumbling to himself, that they could involve sitting beside you, listening to the stupid jokes you try and crack while you both shake away sleep to just work on oneee more document…is when he learns you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

Co-worker! L Is quick to notice all your habits. Open windows for fresh air leave you shivering? He’s already instructed Watari to stock the hotel suites with extra blankets. Light offered to make your coffee? He’s ensuring to have it pre-made to your liking from now on.

He wants to be someone you can depend on and trust, and this is just his indirect way of showing it.

Co-worker! L First denies ANY romantic attraction. You guys are friends! You even said so himself!! 

And at first he was more than happy to accept that title– it also being the first time someone has actually considered him one– but eventually he despises it. He may be a reclusive emo who happens to be the world’s greatest detective, but he’s still a 20-something year old with emotions and desires. 

Now, when he finally admits that he’s liking you as something more than platonic co-workers..?

He’s seen movies and reads leisurely in the moments when he does get free time, so he’s aware of his attraction to you… he just never thought it would actually happen in the first place. Of course with his luck, the one time he meets someone he thinks he can have a genuine connection with, he gets friend-zoned. By his only friend. 

[OK NSFW TIME HEHE]

Co-worker! L Feels absolutely awful the first time he jacks off to you. In the heat of the moment, it felt like his mind had melted into a puddle of pure carnal desire. Each stroke of his cock in his fist had him wishing it was you– any part of you instead. Maybe those pretty hands you also ensure to lotion up when they seem dry. Or in between those perky tits you keep unfairly hidden away behind layers of clothing. If you took him in your mouth, he might actually ascend and see heaven’s gates.

He cums harder and much faster than he anticipated, ensuring his cruel fate under your love sick spell. No matter how many times he pumps one out before you arrive at the nightly meeting, his dick still twitches the moment your eyes sweep over him and offer a simple ‘hello’. Ryuzaki knows he’s never gotten any action, but the mere presence of you sitting beside him at a work meeting has him feeling like a pent up teenager. 

Co-worker! L Shamelessly commits everything physical about you to memory– that way when he strokes his cock languidly after you leave, the mental image in his head is nearly perfect. It’s gotten to the point he can accurately guess your cup size and what the circumference of your ring finger is. He tells himself it would be useful if you ever went missing and the police needed a sketch, though the immediate description of ‘amazing smile, smells like a mixture of worn books and pastries, and has a fantastic rack’ that comes to mind wouldn’t be of much help. 

But maybe you know what you’re doing to him? How many times can you ‘accidentally’ drop a document and reach over the couch with your ass up to retrieve it before it’s on purpose? The arch of your back and the groan from the stretch of reaching makes Ryuzaki want to end the meeting early and pump you so full of his cum that you’ll be dripping him out for days. There’s no need to make all of these exaggerated moves when he’ll do whatever you want if you just say the command!

Co-worker! L Tries to keep all of his horny thoughts to himself as best as he can, such as: If your pussy tastes as good as he imagines, and if asking you to ride his face would be too straightforward if the two of you ever got intimate. Part of him is glad that Kira seemingly can’t read minds, because if it is Light, the young man would’ve ran to his father about their boss being a decrepit pervert who can’t seem to stop fantasizing taking his new hire raw. [he’s aware of the benefits of condoms, but he thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of your ovulation cycle and if he can time it juuuust right, then birth control wouldn’t be needed]

Co-worker! L Thinks he’s ok with living as your friend and only entertaining the idea of something more in mind until Aoyama rolls around. He kept you watching CCTV for your own protection, but also his own sanity. (If he had to watch you get killed, or worse, hit on by Light all day through a screen– he might consider detaining the young man regardless of proper evidence.) 

Until you look at him differently.

There’s a glow on the screen that illuminates you both in a static blue light as you brilliantly work out a variety of possibilities on the Second Kira with ease; he’s not sure if he’s more turned on by your beauty or brains. (both). When you stop rambling and look down at his lips, his mind begins to put all of the final pieces together. ’fuck, were you thinking about him, the same way he thinks about you?!’

It’s a subtle lean in, and gentle closure of your eyes until there’s a bang at the door and Aizawa barges in...

So what, if the intruder thinks you guys are fake dating now? It’s to prevent Light from catching on and to protect you from the Second Kira. And so what, if he gets to hear you call him ‘boyfriend’, and walk you to class, and… kiss you on the quad?!

Co-worker! L Is wrapped around your finger, tightly. He would kill to have this fake relationship be real under any other circumstances, but you’re both busy trying to hunt down a serial killer who might be working alongside you. Ryuzaki swore to himself only a few months ago that your joining of the task force would bring nothing but professional benefits, and now he’s waiting for you to text him back while silently reminding himself the purpose of this entire investigation is to catch Kira, NOT feelings!

wow 2 CKNF realted posts in 1 week!?!? 😎

i got this idea while writing ch. 8 and then the google doc magically opened and BOOM here we are

i'm lowkey thinking of doing more of these if u guys like them; they're also quicker to draft in case u guys want a snack between chapters

[also want to lowkey try doing this for L in other scenarios as well as other characters from other fandoms... hmm..]

anyways, ILY POOKIES

-oamteal <333

taglist for the mainseries: @lechatparle24@irissfoot@iheteeaifs@automaticpatroltragedy@greenapplesaucepi@thesimpnovao@leiiilaaaa@duckydee-0@dija200@cherry-san@hanakokunzz@maribellaaaaa@love-of-less@bakugouswaif@kakamixoxo