#even though he isn’t in it- his mushroom is still here

[bloos-bloo]

Not finished but some potential design concept art for the goddess of torment ( everyone thank cake for the name- it was better than what I planned XD )

Mushroom lady- big big mushroom lady got me like

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 6: Bloodstone]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus @chattylurker, more in comments 🥰

💎 Only 1 chapter left!!! 💎

You must not have heard him correctly. Down by the bow, third-class passengers are still laughing as they kick pieces of ice back and forth. Children who have been shaken awake are giggling as they dash around in their worn, patched coats. On the Promenade Deck, tycoons and aristocrats are flagging down stewards to fetch them fresh drinks. There is no more humming of the ship’s engines, although no one else seems to have noticed; they have quit and will never work again. In a few hours, they will be resting on the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean. It’s just barely April 15th, and half the passengers aboard won’t live to see the sunrise.

Kill Daemon??

You’ve never even hit anybody, not unless they struck you first. “I can’t kill someone.”

“Yes you can,” Aegon insists. His tone is urgent; there isn’t much time left. “And you won’t have to do it alone. Like I said, I’ll help you.”

A drop in your stomach, a chill down your spine, wide-eyed primal fear like a prey animal’s. “Even if I wanted to, Daemon can’t be killed.”

“He’s not a monster. He’s just a man. He has blood and organs just like we do. I promise you, if we cut him he’ll bleed.”

“He’ll hurt me,” you whimper. “He’ll know what I’m trying to do and he’ll break my neck or push me overboard. You don’t know him, he’s…he’s…he’s relentless, he’s cunning—”

“We can have what we want,” Aegon says, grabbing your face with his hands, fingertips callused from years of playing viola on streets, in pubs, in small rented rooms, on the decks of ships. “We can leave Titanic together. We can stay with my family for a while in New York, and then we’ll go back to Ireland so you can be with yours, and when my father dies we’ll spend half the year in England and the other half with your parents, and you’ll get to keep Draco, and Daemon will never touch you again. You’ll be free, Petra. And you deserve that. But no one is going to give it to you. You have to fight for it.”

Is it possible? Is it really? You imagine having breakfast with your parents in Lough Cutra Castle, the table full: you, Aegon, Draco, Fern, everyone smiling over plates of fried eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, and white pudding, cups of tea breathing steam into the cool morning air. Are you willing to fight for that? Are you willing to murder? At last you say: “Daemon isn’t the only problem.”

“Who else?” Aegon asks, demanding, impatient, though his hands are gentle. “Rhaenyra? And the old woman, right? Draco’s governess. Dagmar.”

“And Daemon’s bodyguard Edward Rushton, we call him Rush. He carries a pistol.”

“Okay.” Aegon nods, his eyes distant, his thoughts whirling like Titanic’s colossal propellers once did and never will again. You know he’s devising a plan. We only have an hour or two.

“Aegon…I have to get Draco into a lifeboat first.”

“Right.” He kisses you, a quick brush across your cheek like a dusting of snow, and you think: I can’t lose him. “Over a thousand passengers are going to die tonight. Let’s make sure four of them are people who deserve it.” Then he takes your hand and together you descend the steps to B-Deck.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scarlet fever is named for the distinctive rash that marks its victims, tiny red dots like blood blisters, so itchy they are soon scratched raw, raised bumps of braille in the shape of ominous omens, corporal constellations of bad stars. Dagmar was reminded of them the first time she ever saw bloodstone, a dark green crystal freckled with red, a pendant that Dameon sent her from across the world where he was opening a new mine in Australia.

Valentin was the first one to get sick. He was the youngest, the only boy, and while perhaps mothers are not supposed to have favorites Dagmar knew in her bones that she did. She held him—three years old, white-blonde hair, loud and wild—as he grew quiet and weak and hot with fever, and then he was gone. After Valentin was Juni, and then Karin, and then Mikele, and finally Gunnar, a lumberman who worked hard and never complained, not even when he was dying of kidney failure. Dagmar was once a woman with four children and a husband, but then she was no one, untethered to the earth, unmoored from everything that had been, and people left adrift in the ocean are likely to drown and spend eternity in the crushing, sunless abyss.

She wandered for a while, too old to fathom a new life, too young to simply wait to die herself, and of course suicide is a sin. To keep from starving she took jobs as a governess; the only thing Dagmar knew how to do was raise children, and she was good at it. With each new household she found herself searching for Valentin’s eyes and hair and spirit, for a child that could make her believe he was alive again. But none of the temperate, blue-blooded little boys or girls of England—where Dagmar had fled to escape the memories of her homeland—came close to filling his footsteps, his handprints, the hemorrhaging puncture wound he left in her chest.

Then one brutally cold winter, Dagmar was referred to the 8th Duke of Beaufort Baelon Targaryen, deep in mourning for his wife Alyssa who had recently perished in childbirth and at a loss to handle his two sons. Viserys, the heir, was already eight years old and too set in his ways to ever see Dagmar as a mother. But Daemon, only four—so much like Val, Dagmar had thought as she lifted him from the floor—was sad and needy and vicious, furious at the world for stealing his mother from him, and this was something Dagmar could understand. She became his new mother. He became her reason for living.

Daemon grew up, as all children do if they are not preserved forever in youth by untimely deaths, and Dagmar drifted away to other castles and mansions, other families, other attempts to silence the ghosts that rattled doors and windows as she slept. But no one could replace Daemon, and each time she received a letter or a gift from him—photographs from his mining expeditions, bracelets and hair combs, taxidermied foreign beasts—Dagmar would write him a thank you note and always include the same postscript: Daemon my dear, my brave rogue prince, it would be the greatest joy of my life to one day help look after your own child. And at last, when Draco was born he summoned her, and little Valentin was alive once again.

Now unlike Daemon, Draco did have a mother, but she was young and easily managed, inexperienced with babies, eager to please her husband. Daemon was so sage and charismatic and renowned, and she faded into his shadow until all her colors were gone and she was black and white like a photograph, never knowing what to do or say, staring inanely from doorways. This was just fine as far as Dagmar was concerned. She could pretend that Daemon’s wife was dead like poor Alyssa Targaryen.

Here on Titanic, the baffling shockwave yanked Draco out of his dreams. He’s crying, soft disoriented whines, and Dagmar soothes him and reads him The Little Mermaid and tells Fern—also awakened by the shudder and now pacing restlessly around the staterooms—to make some tea. Just as Draco is finally dozing off again, there is a loud knock at the front door. Dagmar brings Draco out into the sitting room, leading him by one of his tiny pawlike hands, to find Fern speaking to a steward who will not come inside any farther than the doorway, as if he is in a hurry. Fern, puzzled, is clutching the white lifebelts he has given her.

The steward is explaining: “I’m sure it’s just a precaution, ma’am—”

“It’s not a precaution,” Daemon’s wife says as she sweeps into the room, and for some reason there is a man with her, a blonde man in a black wool coat. Immediately, Dagmar’s blood turns to dark viscid poison. What is she doing? Why can’t she disappear? “Thank you,” Daemon’s wife tells the steward briskly. “I’m sure you have other rooms to visit. You should be on your way.”

The steward is evidently too busy to be offended. He retreats into the hallway and vanishes, and the strange blonde man shuts the door behind him. Dagmar scrutinizes the intruder, and he glares back at her with eyes like deep water, a murky melancholy blue. He’s the same man she saw on the Boat Deck, the one who reminded her so much of Viserys when he was young, that solemn, grieving boy she could not coax into loving her.

Why can’t Daemon’s wife just die? Why should she live when so many have been lost? Why would God judge her more worthy than Valentin, Juni, Karin, Mikele, Gunnar?

“What’s going on?” Fern asks Daemon’s wife, her voice reedy and timid.

Instead of an answer, there is a question in return: “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” Fern says, perplexed. “Why? What’s happened?”

Daemon’s wife holds out an empty hand, not to Fern but to Draco, who Dagmar is still grasping with bony fingers gnarled by arthritis. She says: “Draco, please come with me.”

“Why?” he asks, but he has already taken a step towards her, tiny bare feet. Dagmar does not surrender him. She will not, she cannot. He stops when his arm is fully extended and then looks back to his governess, his surrogate mother, his pale eyes full of doubt.

“We have to go somewhere,” Daemon’s wife says. She is still reaching for him. “Draco, please. I need you to listen to me, we don’t have much time.”

“No,” Dagmar sneers. “You don’t know how to take care of him. You never have.”

“Can I go?” Draco asks softly, and Dagmar pretends she has not heard him.

“Draco,” Daemon’s brainless young wife pleads. Her eyes flick up to Dagmar’s, and there is a moment of terrible understanding between them, as if they are mirror images: neither can try to force him without driving him into the embrace of the other. He is not a child who is easily tamed; he is a wolf, he is a dragon.

“Dagmar?” Draco says, peering up at her, and he’s asking for permission but in another minute he might be stomping his feet and screeching loud enough for the entire hallway to hear.

Dagmar glances at the lifebelts Fern is gripping tightly. What’s wrong with the ship? Is it sinking? But no, Dagmar cannot believe this. Titanic is unsinkable; everybody in the world knows that. She tells the boy: “She’ll take you away from me. She’ll steal you. But she won’t keep you safe and warm and happy like I would.”

“I’m your mother,” Daemon’s wife tells Draco, and now her voice is choked and there are tears glittering in her desperate eyes. The blonde man looks at her like he would carry the weight of her anguish if he could, every last pound. Who is he? Why is he here? “I know it might not feel that way sometimes, but I am. And I love you more than anything. I would never hurt you. I’m trying to protect you. Draco, I need you to come with me right now.”

And horribly, unthinkably, he yanks his little hand out of Dagmar’s. She claws for him and he spins around to face her. “No!” Draco shouts. “I decide! Me! Not you!” She is stunned into silence. She watches him careen across the sitting room, and Daemon’s wife scoops him up as if he belongs to her. She holds him for a while, a minute or more, before she sets him down on the floor and quickly helps Draco get his socks and shoes on. The boy does not complain. Then she lifts him again and—with what appears to be great effort—passes him to Fern, who while bewildered accepts this task, now carrying both the boy and the lifebelts. Daemon’s wife grabs all the coats hanging from the coat rack and piles them into Fern’s already full arms.

“Fern, take him upstairs to the Boat Deck. Get to a lifeboat, do not wait. They will be launching them soon if they haven’t started already.”

“Lifeboats?” Fern repeats, blinking, stymied.

“Yes,” Daemon’s wife says, and she and the maid share a long, silent, meaningful look. Draco gazes worriedly around the room, gnawing on his fingernails. The blonde man watches Dagmar, his expression severe, hateful.

Fern asks: “How much time until Titanic…?”

“An hour or two. You won’t be in the lifeboat for long, a ship called Carpathia is en route. But she’s not close enough.”

“Oh,” the maid exhales numbly. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…”

“Stay with Draco. Don’t leave him for a second. Get into a lifeboat, keep him warm, wait for Carpathia. I’ll follow you as soon as I can, but…there are some things I have to do first.”

“Like what, ma’am? What could be so important? You shouldn’t wait either.”

Instead of answering, she says, low like a dire warning: “If you happen to see them, do not speak to Daemon, Rhaenyra, or Rush. Don’t tell them what’s going on.”

“Yes ma’am,” Fern replies quietly, and nods like she suddenly understands. She takes Draco and hurries out of the room. Now Dagmar is alone with them: Daemon’s idiotic little girl of a wife, her inexplicable companion.

“This ship can’t sink,” Dagmar says; but is the floor tilting? She has only just noticed it.

“Of course it can,” Daemon’s wife counters. “Any ship can. I kept telling everyone how terrified I was of the voyage and you all treated me like I was insane. But I was right. I wasn’t a coward and I wasn’t stupid. And you can’t make me believe that I am anymore.”

Dagmar is about to reply—something cutting, something cruel—but then her steely Scandinavian eyes snag on the stranger and all at once it hits her like a man’s knuckles. She gasps, shocked, ferocious. Aegon. Viserys’ son. A villain, a traitor, an unworthy beneficiary of a grand inheritance. “I know who you are. How the hell did you get here?”

The man grins menacingly. “Fortune brought me a ticket. Best luck I’ve ever had.”

Dagmar screams, hoping he will hear her: “Daemon?!”

Aegon lunges, catches her around her long thin waist, wrestles her towards the door to the private promenade deck. Dagmar isn’t strong, but she is fierce; she scratches at his eyes and bites his hands when they try to smother her howls. They stumble together through the doorway and out onto the pine planks, knocking over lightweight wicker furniture. When her teeth close around Aegon’s fingers, Dagmar tastes blood like warm copper.

“A window!” Aegon is telling Daemon’s wife, but she’s already there after slamming the door to the sitting room shut, franticly turning the hand crank under the nearest window. The glass opens, and freezing night air pours in.

They’re trying to kill me, Dagmar realizes. They’re going to throw me overboard.

She jabs a bony elbow into Aegon’s throat, and he collapses to the deck, wheezing and helpless.

“Daemon!” Dagmar shrieks again. If he hears me, he’ll save me. My savior, my son. “Help!”

But it’s his wife who arrives instead. She collides with Dagmar, strikes her with two open palms, shoves her through the window. Dagmar’s hipbone cracks against the windowsill, a dry brittle snap, and then she tumbles out into the darkness.

Her last thought as she sees the stars—before she hits the frigid water and is knocked unconscious, then dragged under by the merciless weight of gravity—is that if they were red they would look like the dots on the skin of a child with scarlet fever, like the crimson flecks in a bloodstone.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my God, I…we…” You stare down into the black waves that swallowed her so effortlessly, a flash of her long silver hair as it came undone and then nothing. “She’s gone. She’s really gone. We killed her. We’re murderers.”

In reply, Aegon coughs and gasps for air, still crawling around on the deck. You run to him and help him stand up.

“Thanks,” he croaks.

“Are you alright? What can I do?”

“I’ll be fine,” he rasps. “Just need a minute.”

You look down to see blood dripping from his fingers, thick beads of crimson like teardrop-shaped rubies, like oil paint. You ache for him, you feel his pain as if it is your own. “Your hands, Aegon, your hands…”

“I’m okay,” Aegon assures you, smiling. “The bitch chewed me up, but I’ll live.”

“I want to save your paintings,” you say. “We can’t let them go down with the ship. We’ll take them to the Boat Deck and give Fern your portfolio, make sure she and Draco get safely into a lifeboat, and then…then we’ll…” We’ll finish what must be done. We’ll free you and me and Draco.

Aegon is nodding as he rubs his throat, already bruising. “Any idea where Rush might be? The guy with the gun?”

Before you can answer, you both hear it: the sound of a door swinging open and heavy footsteps inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

He likes that Daemon calls him Rush. It’s better than Eddie, which is who he was when he was a boy being kicked and backhanded by his stepfather, and laughed at by the other kids at school for not having shoes to wear. Now he is someone brand new, and that boy Eddie could be a character in a book or a song, vaguely familiar but not real.

Daemon has never hit Rush, never even threatened him. He has never stolen his laborers’ promised wages or cornered maids to violate them, impregnate them, ruin their lives. He goes into the mines he opens and periodically travels the world to inspect, descending into clouds of dust and chipping gemstones from the walls with his own tools. He is kind to his son Draco. He is brave, he is brilliant, he knows how to have a drink with working men and captivate them with his stories. Rush would do anything for Daemon, who saved him from a life of obscure, powerless poverty. He would overlook any number of sins.

Rush gusts into the bedroom and sets about gathering up valuables and stuffing them into a suitcase: business correspondence, jewelry, sketches of designs, bundles of cash from the safe. Daemon will regret having to leave the taxidermied tiger head, but it’s simply too large and heavy to bring with them. Rush hasn’t located Daemon and Rhaenyra yet, but this isn’t so unusual; they are always sneaking around, evading being found purely for the sake of it, the deception, the thrill, ravaging each other in ever more inventive places. God knows where they were when Titanic struck the iceberg, or if they are aware of the impending sinking. Rush is not panicking yet; there’s still time, though perhaps not too much of it. With each passing minute, the ship lists further towards the starboard side. He is just about to get Daemon’s dagger from the writing desk when he hears the door open to the private promenade deck. Rush turns to see Lady Targaryen peeking in from the threshold, pale blue dress, white coat.

He has never felt any loyalty to her. She is a thoughtless, mollycoddled girl, raised in a castle with parents who loved her, and what would she know of what the world was like for everyone else? Daemon only roughed her up when she deserved it, when there was no other way to make her listen, and never too badly: no split bones, no scars. In Rush’s opinion, it was just enough to give her a taste of adversity.

He sighs. “Well, unless you plan on drowning or freezing to death tonight, you might as well follow me up to the Boat Deck. I’m just here to collect some things. They’re only putting women and children in the lifeboats now, but I’m sure first-class men won’t be far behind.”

She says nothing, only watches him from the doorway. The old witch Dagmar isn’t here; she must have already taken the boy to the highest level of the ship, where affluent passengers are waiting impatiently and still in denial that Titanic will soon disappear beneath the waves, asking stewards to fetch them drinks and cigars, calling out song requests to the string quartet.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen Daemon or Rhaenyra, I assume?”

“I thought they were with you.”

“No,” Rush says, smirking. “I seem to have lost track of them. They’re not in either of their staterooms. But don’t fear. Daemon is more than capable of looking after himself. He’ll turn up soon enough.” Perhaps I missed them up on the Boat Deck; it was crowded, it was chaos. Perhaps Daemon is already helping Rhaenyra into a lifeboat, his large rough hands steadying hers as she steps inside. He would save her first.

“I’ll help you pack the valuables,” Lady Targaryen says suddenly, and starts towards Daemon’s writing desk.

“Just keep out of the way,” Rush snaps; and then he sees something and stops dead.

A painter’s easel has slid halfway out from beneath the bed as the floor tilts. This is a peculiar enough item, but the paper clipped to it is stranger. The image is of Lady Targaryen, that is certain, but she isn’t alone; there is a man with her, and while nothing is shown below the collarbones, the activity in which they are partaking is unmistakable.

If she’s found a lover, Daemon really will kill her this time.

Rush gapes at the painting for several long seconds and then looks up at Lady Targaryen. “What the fuck is that?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Your hand hovers on the handle of the desk drawer. You can’t open it and take the dagger while Rush is watching. You know that beneath his coat he wears a shoulder holster containing a Colt 1911. Even with a blade, you are outmatched.

Aegon appears in the doorway to the private deck with a wicker chair. He hurls it at Rush as hard as he can, and as Rush curses and fumbles for his pistol, you seize Daemon’s dagger from the drawer and plunge it into Rush’s back, once, twice, three times, many more. You can’t help but scream as you stab him, because it’s horrible beyond description: the resistance of gristle, the muffled popping of organs, kidneys or a liver or a spleen, and Rush is groaning and contorting, dark blood spilling across the slanting floor. Aegon struggles with him for the gun, ultimately wrenching it out of Rush’s weakening, shaking hands. He’s dying, and while you harbor no affection for him and never have, you remember the children your parents lost. Life is not something to take carelessly. It is already so fragile, and each death creates mourners like heads springing from a hydra.

Over a thousand people will die tonight. Is that really possible?

Rush has stopped moving. You are kneeling with the gold hilt of the dagger in your fist. The gemstones are splattered with blood: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire.

“Here,” Aegon says, trying to give you the pistol.

You recoil. “I don’t know how to use that.”

He laughs, a half-hysterical little cackle. There is a smudge of Rush’s blood across his cheek like a stain of lipstick. “I don’t either!”

“Keep the gun. I trust you.” You turn to the easel that has slid out from beneath the ruffled bed skirt—once white, now speckled with red—and realize that stray blooddrops have been flung across the painting, dots of red turning tacky on the thin layer of oil paint. “I ruined it,” you say, soft and mournful.

“No,” Aegon disagrees, smiling. “You just added some more color.”

You use the bedsheets to wipe the worst of the blood off your hands and the dagger. Then you pull Aegon’s leather portfolio out from underneath the bed, open it, and store the new painting safely inside. In the meantime, Aegon rolls Rush’s body into the closet and entombs him in a heap of gowns you’ll never wear again. You stand, pick up the dagger, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the oval-shaped mirror…and instead of looking away, you stay there for a while. The woman in the glass—like silver, like moonlight—has frightened eyes but a glinting blade as well. There are massive maroon splotches on the belly of your ice-blue dress; you button your coat to conceal them. Through the open door to the private deck, frigid night air floods in like the seawater slowly filling Titanic.

What does water that cold feel like? Like knives, like fangs? A thousand people will soon find out.

“Ready?” Aegon asks. He puts the pistol in the pocket of his stolen black coat.

“Almost.” You find your handbag from yesterday, green to match the emerald-colored dress you wore before Aegon painted you, before he uncovered you like a rare gemstone. Within is Aegon’s small aluminum lighter; you tuck the dagger inside as well. You yank out a handkerchief and clean the blood from Aegon’s cheek with it, then peer down at his swollen, bloodied fingers and knuckles, ravaged by Dagmar’s bitemarks. They are trembling. “Are your hands—?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he whispers, pulling you in and kissing you, touching your face and your hair, his lips warm and soft in a haze of copper-scented glacial air. Would you do this again for him? For Draco, for yourself? Yes. I’d do it a hundred times. “We’re halfway done.”

Up on the Boat Deck, people are finally realizing that the ship is in mortal peril. First-class women, shimmering in their gowns and their jewels, are being hastily loaded into lifeboats along with their maids and their children. You spot Fern in one vessel; she is wearing two coats herself, and has bundled Draco in at least four from what you can tell. She holds him on her lap, and Draco is uncharacteristically hushed, compliant, fearful, gawping with startled blue eyes beneath disorderly white-blonde hair. They are seated beside Benjamin Guggenheim’s elegant French mistress, Léontine Aubart. Ben himself is striding back and forth on the deck with a number of companions, all in pristine black suits and puffing on pipes or cigars, assisting the weeping women as they flee to the lifeboats.

“We are prepared to go down as gentlemen!” Ben is trumpeting. Nearby, a string quartet is playing not an Irish song that you have known since childhood but the mellow, merry, please-don’t-panic melody of Samson and Delilah by Camille Saint-Saëns.

“I guess my viola is long gone, huh?” Aegon tells you. “Oh well. I hope the fish enjoy it.”

Ben Guggenheim continues: “Let it be known for all time that we stayed until the end to save the lives of the innocent, our beloved women and children, and that they survived because of us. Our bodies may fail, but our Christian good deeds will last eternally.”

“Hear hear!” other men are shouting drunkenly, raising glasses of brandy. Stewards and officers cast them brief, rather impatient glances. You wonder if any of the aforementioned gentlemen have considered the women and children of the third class, many of whom must have already predeceased them as they were drowned below deck, ignoble, invisible.

You think for the first time: Are they going to let Aegon into a lifeboat?

“Mam!” Draco shouts when he sees you, reaching out with both arms. You sprint to where he is still secured in Fern’s lap and lean over the side of the lifeboat, clasping his cold little hands and kissing the top of his head. Then you give Aegon’s portfolio to Fern.

“Take this with you. Try to make sure it doesn’t get wet.”

“Are you climbing in now, ma’am?” Fern asks hopefully. “There’s room for one more if we squeeze together.” Her eyes dart to Aegon. “Perhaps two.”

“I can’t,” you reply. “Not quite yet. But I’ll be back soon.”

“No, you have to come with us,” Draco says. The ship’s officers are signaling for the vessel to be lowered into the water. You spy other familiar faces aboard: young pregnant Madeleine Astor, the glamorous Countess of Rothes, the newly-wealthy Margaret Brown. Being a first-class passenger will save her life tonight.

“I’ll get in another boat. I promise.”

“No,” Draco says, and now he’s sobbing. He can’t understand the scale of it, but he knows something is terribly wrong. “Mam, we can’t leave without you. There’s room in the boat. Please get in. Please.” And you think: Maybe he does need me after all. Maybe he always did.

“You can go with them,” Aegon murmurs through your hair. “I’ll finish this. I’ll take care of Daemon and Rhaenyra.”

But he might need your help…and you cannot leave him here alone to freeze or drown or be murdered when Daemon discovers his lethal intentions. “You’re safe,” you tell Draco, one last touch of your palm to his hair, one last reassuring smile you hope isn’t a lie. “Stay with Fern. I’ll be in another lifeboat and I’ll see you again when this is over.”

“No, no, no!” Draco cries, still grasping futilely for you; but the lifeboat is lurching down towards the water and he is soon beyond your reach. High above, a flare explodes in the inky night sky, gleaming silver rain to tell any passing ships that Titanic is doomed. The North Atlantic is like black glass, smooth and reflective. Distant constellations are mirrored there, and you remember a passage from a book you gifted Daemon for your second anniversary when you still believed he might one day love you, an ancient tale from India about the beauty of the ocean: Its huge white waves looked like clouds; its gems looked like stars; its crystals looked like the moon; and its long bright serpents bearing gems in their hoods looked like comets, and thus the whole sea looked like the sky.

“Lady Targaryen,” Ben Guggenheim says as he marches over. He is swaying like he might be drunk. If he is, you can’t blame him. The truth is cold, and poison is warm: alcohol, smoke, a lover’s hands, a gush of blood. “Do you require any assistance, my darling?”

“No, thank you,” you reply swiftly before he can inquire further, and Aegon’s arm circles your waist as you hurry towards the entrance of the Grand Staircase together. You clutch your green handbag close to your chest. Where are Daemon and Rhaenyra? When will this be over?

From back by the lifeboats you can hear Ben Guggenheim shouting: “Tell my wife and daughters in New York that I love them! Tell them that I died a hero, and that I shall see them again when one day we are reunited in heaven…pray for my soul…tell the newspapers of our courage tonight…”

You and Aegon escape into the very top level of the Grand Staircase, the dome of glass and wrought iron above, the English oak wood steps winding below. As you enter, a frenzied crowd passes you on their way out to the Boat Deck: shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, J. Bruce Ismay, a number of others. And then, just as you and Aegon are beginning your descent, you see her on the landing below, frozen in place where she gapes up at you from beside the clock. Soon its ticking will fall silent forever. It will live on only in the memories of the survivors.

Rhaenyra is alone on the staircase. She is wearing a red and black gown and a white lifebelt; she is on her way to evacuate the sinking ship. You have intercepted her not a moment too soon. But she is not looking at you. Her Targaryen-blue eyes are fixed on Aegon, incredulous. It is the first time she has truly noticed him since she came aboard, and she remembers his face from photographs, from portraits, from awkward, frosty visits when they were both children.

“Aegon?” she says. “What are you doing here?”

In response, he removes the pistol from his coat pocket. Rhaenyra screams and bolts down the staircase, Aegon right behind her, flying like a phantom, like a shadow in his stolen black wool coat.

You try to follow, but they are faster. You slip on the steps, one of your blue shoes clattering away as you grip the banister to keep from falling. You reclaim your shoe where the staircase meets A-Deck; outside the illustrious Promenade Deck encircles the perimeter of the ship. You steady yourself against the bronze cherub statue as you slide your shoe back on, then resume the chase…but you don’t know where Aegon and Rhaenyra have gone.

Farther down the Grand Staircase? Out onto the Promenade Deck? Into the maze of hallways?

You try to listen for them, but the turmoil outside is growing louder. You hear a gunshot, but you cannot tell from which direction; the sound reverberates through the steel of the ship and melds with the chorus of failing machinery: groaning joints, snapping beams, steam vented from the massive funnels. You pause in the doorway that leads out to the Promenade Deck, black freezing air drawn into your heaving lungs.

Which way?

Now there are footsteps on the Grand Staircase coming up from B-Deck. You race back to the bronze cherub, but it is not Aegon or Rhaenyra who meets you there. It is Daemon, appearing on the landing like a fogbank or a thunderstorm, black suit, glinting deep-set eyes, towering over you; and once again you are a seventeen-year-old girl climbing into the marriage bed with him and hoping he’ll like you, once again you feel yourself to be entirely at his mercy, in terror of him, in awe of him.

Daemon grabs you by your coat and pushes you against the bronze cherub statue, its edges prodding at your spine. You yelp and he chuckles, and he asks, so casually he must know nothing about Aegon or his pursuit of Rhaenyra like a hound after a fox: “And what are your plans for this evening, dear? Dinner and dancing? Or perhaps a nice brisk swim? Good for one’s health, I hear.”

You can’t find your words. Your fingers that grasp your handbag are numb and useless. Daemon is inside you again, not your body this time but your mind, snipping threads and dissolving mirages. How did I ever believe I could kill him?

Slowly, Daemon’s grin dies. He releases you, and then for some reason—a trick?? a trap??—offers you his empty hand. “Come on,” he says, as if relenting. “I’ll help you get to a lifeboat.”

You stare up at him, and the shock must show on your face, the disbelief, the cautious wonder.

“I can’t take you away from Draco,” Daemon says, answering a question you don’t need to ask. He owns all of you; you have no secrets. “He’s so young. And I know what it’s like to lose a mother.”

Draco, you think with abrupt glass-sharp clarity. I’m doing this for him, and Aegon, and me.

You don’t take Daemon’s hand. Instead, you open your handbag and rip out the dagger. You slash at Daemon’s throat, and you almost cut him deep enough, a fraction of an inch from the carotid or the jugular or the windpipe. But Daemon pulls away at the last second and you only wound him, scarlet rivulets spilling down his neck and staining the white shirt beneath his suit jacket, melting rubies, hard soulless gemstones in the sockets of his eyes.

Daemon throws you down the staircase and you hit the oak steps hard, bruising, twisting, rolling, the thoughts jolted out of your skull. The dagger is knocked from your hand and is lost. You fumble blindly for it where you are sprawled on the next landing, halfway to B-Deck. Your vision is blurred by stars like those in the mirror image on the North Atlantic Ocean.

But I need the dagger, I need it, I need it, I can’t kill him without it.

And as you lift your head you see Daemon coming down to meet you, a gemcutter here to break you over and over again, until there is nothing left but glimmering dust, until you have never existed at all.

[blueflamebimbo]

DEW KISSED

TIGHNARI X READER

Tighnari likes knowing things. Tighnari likes mushrooms. Above all, Tighnari likes you. The feeling, thankfully, is absolutely mutual.

A/N: I saw a lot of Genshin smut on here, so I wrote something wholesome out of spite. I also said I wasn't going to put a lot of effort into it and ended up researching rain forest preservation systems. My bad.

Dedicated to: @husbandograveyard Warnings: Brush your teeth. This shit sweet. Word count: 1,070

A small smile pulled at the sides of your mouth as you watched the breeze flow through the grass, making it lean into the most serene sea of greens and flowery whites. The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been the past few days, and though clouds still brought a chill to the spring afternoon in the fields of East Sumeru, the sun was finally out again, making the fields glisten.

Your walk from home had taken only a short while as you made your way to the edge of Avidya Forest. The bark felt rough against your skin as you sat down on a fallen tree trunk, a favourite spot of yours that looked out into the depths of the forest. It was the perfect spot to watch forest critters scurry about while enjoying both the warmth of the air and the shade of the trees that towered above you, casting shadows at your feet as the sun travelled from East to West.

There was a familiar tingling sensation in your gut as you eyed the rustling leaves ahead of you. Tomorrow, you would embark on quite the adventure. After spending years with your nose hidden in pages upon pages of information that were carefully tucked away at the Akademiya, your first research project away from home was finally about to start. The thought brought tension to your neck, and you reached up to soothe the sore muscle.

From between the leaves, your favourite project partner emerged. Tighnari set down his satchel in front of you, his gaze never leaving you, but his initial grin faltering slightly at your visible discomfort.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he murmured, getting down and sitting back on his haunches. One of his big ears twitched in concern and a dew drop flicked off, hitting the tree trunk.

You nodded sheepishly and let go of your neck, settling both your hands behind you on the bark, letting you lean back slightly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled at him reassuringly and let out a soft sigh. “Is it foolish of me to be nervous about tomorrow, though?"

He laughed. Not the gentle, friendly laugh most people knew and appreciated, but a full, cheeky laugh; one that pushed at his cheeks and made his eyes disappear into green crescents. “Don’t be silly – it’s your first research project, honey, of course you’re allowed to be nervous,” he shrugged. “I won’t have you be worried about any of it, though. You’re so well-prepared. I was there every step of the way, watching you learn, watching you grow into the scholar I know you are.” He paused, “And, even if you do doubt – that’s okay, too. I’ll be right there to help. You’re not in this alone, but I have faith in that big brain of yours.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, the compliment nestling deep inside of your chest and blooming as you watched his eyes peer up at you with both wonder and adoration. It was almost too much to be the subject of the forest watcher’s affection, but it also never got old, not even after this much time had passed.

Looking out into the depths of the forest, you let the soft breeze hit your flushed cheeks and pondered the many truths you would uncover with Tighnari, starting tomorrow.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” you wondered, “How something so vast and mysterious can be so perfectly balanced.”

Tighnari knew where this was going and sat back into the grass, mindlessly pulling forest specimens out of his satchel before handing you an almost perfect looking common mushroom – his favourite.

“Forests barely have any nutrients in the ground,” you continued, choosing to momentarily ignore the way Tighnari was beaming at the way he had handed you the perfect prop for the speech he knew so very well by now.

“It’s only really the top part of the soil that’s filled with helpful sources: fallen leaves, dead animals, decomposed plant matter…” you trailed off, grinning. “That’s where the good stuff comes from, huh? All for these fun guys to enjoy.” You held up the mushroom and showed off its simple shape. “Mushrooms use the tree roots to absorb all of the delicious nutrients and enter mycorrhiza, the coolest symbiosis of all, which then makes it easier for the tree roots to actually absorb the nutrients and, in turn, the mushrooms get carbohydrates from the tree. How amazing is that?!”

By now, Tighnari looked so proud, it wouldn’t have surprised you if he teared up. But no – surprise was always an option when accompanied by the botanical scholar, and it was evident in the way he got to his feet, cupped your cheeks and planted a gentle kiss to your lips. You could taste the dew drops in his kiss, and it tasted like spring, and adventure, and trust.

When he pulled away, he looked almost smug. It was the look he would give anyone when they contested anything he said, and he would tell them to look it up. Tighnari was rarely wrong.

“You’re so ready that I doubt you’ll need me at all, honey,” he sighed, his eyes bright and excited.

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, and you won’t be joining me after all?” you teased. You got up from the tree trunk and stepped closer, gently reaching up and letting your fingertips caress the tip of his ear. A ladybug that had been hiding in the fluff of his fur made its way down your hand and then flew off.

At the intimately tender touch, he closed his eyes for a moment. A soft blush coloured his cheeks. He took a moment to bask in the proximity and then slowly shook his head, curling his arms around your waist. “Absolutely not,” he responded as he opened his eyes once more and resumed his proud gaze. “I’ll go wherever you go, my botanical little genius. I’ll follow you to the corners of the world and discover all of its secrets with you, if you’ll let me.”

And that’s where the doubts about the wild unknown melted away. Even though there was a lot to learn about the world, there were a lot of certainties for you as well. One of those certainties took you by the hand and led you home, ready to embark on your greatest adventure yet. 

[heyhiwhatsupdude]

Here’s a dumb thing I wrote enjoy. Astarion x Reader :3

(You were in a particular rough battle, one that ended in Withers needing to resurrect you, and Astarion is not happy)

His eyes are dark as life jolts back into your body. No longer are you in the cave in the Underdark where your life was torn from you, but lying in Astarion’s arms in a camp amidst glowing mushrooms. Crowded around you are your other companions, a mix of worry and relief hanging in their expressions. As you try to sit up, Astarion gently guides you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks softly. You nod and start to stand up, stretching your recently replaced soul throughout all of your limbs, trying to make it fit back where it once had. Karlach extends a hand and helps you to your feet.

“Thought we lost you there, soldier,” she says, a weak laugh creeping out behind her words. “Fortunately for you this guy is better than us at healing.” She gestures over her shoulder at Withers, who seems rather uninterested in the whole ordeal. He nods slightly, and then continues to stare blankly ahead of him.

“Thanks, guys,” you say. You reach your hand up the back of your neck where in theory a gaping wound should still stand, but there isn’t so much as a scar. The sword that should have ended your life for good didn’t even leave a mark.

Astarion rises to his feet next to you, eyes still dark with something you can’t distinguish. Suddenly all of your other companions have somewhere else to be, quickly and awkwardly slipping away to their tents as Astarion stares you down, eyes taking in your every movement. Rather than ask him his thoughts, you silently begin to walk away from the camp, towards an area where your conversation will not be so easily overheard. After a moment you hear his footsteps follow you.

“What were you thinking?!?” His voice comes out in a hiss, anger seeping into his words. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

You turn to glance at Astarion. “It wasn’t stupid in the moment. I didn’t think he would be so fast.” Astarion tilts his chin up.

“But WHY did you have to do that? I was perfectly fine to handle myself!”

“Are you angry with me for trying to protect you?” Despite the haze of being resurrected, you still remember seeing the rush of a sword toward Astarion, and feeling your body move on its own. Though he may have been able to evade it, the blade meeting it’s mark on Astarion would have meant his certain doom as well.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion takes a step closer to you. “I would have been fine.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know that. It might have ended up like this anyway, someone being resurrected.”

“Something that we didn’t even know would work until just now. And might never work again!” He adds the second sentiment on hastily, pointing a finger at you.

“But it did work, and I’m fine now.”

Suddenly he can no longer contain himself.

“You didn’t have to watch you die!” Astarion shouts, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to watch all of your blood rush from your neck, the life slip from your eyes. You didn’t have to watch as the only person who you have ever cared about crumple to the ground. And it was MY fault.” Tears spring from his eyes. “I thought I lost you forever, love. Hells, you DIED.”

Tears pour freely down his face, his voice catching in his throat. Tears well in your own eyes as well, knowing the hurt you have caused him, knowing you would have reacted the same had the situation been flipped, still further knowing that you did not regret your decision one bit.

“I would do it again, Astarion. For you.” He grabs your face in his hands, thumbs forcing your chin to tilt up, forcing your gaze to his.

“Don’t. Please, for my sake, don’t. I don’t care if you’re fine in the end. I cannot….. I cannot…” he buries his face in your neck as a sob cuts off his words. You wrap your arms around him gently. After a moment he regains his composure and whispers,

“I cannot bear to see you die again. Please. Don’t make me watch my worst nightmare a second time.” He pulls back, making sure you meet his gaze once again. “Please.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Astarion brushes his thumb across your lips before gently bringing them to his.

“Thank you, darling.”

You spend the rest of the night wrapped tightly in his embrace, his fingers tracing the back of your magically unscarred neck as though afraid your wound may reopen and steal you from him once again.

[loomiseater]

Shhh!

warnings: smut ofc!, loss of virginity, whiny and sub Spence.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

A/N: This is very short! This was a forgotten piece of work I had and I thought I might as well just finish it. Also! first post of February!! <3.

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Written: December 21st-February 5th, 2025

Published: February 5th, 2025

Summary: Spencer's never had the touch of a woman before.

wc: 849

“Y/n, I don’t think we should be doing this- we could get caught at any-“ I cut Spencer off with a loud sigh as I dragged him to an unused office. “Maybe if you’re quiet enough they won’t hear!”

Spencer was nervous, terrified at the act he was about to do. Somehow the topic got on virginity and Spence admitted that he was still a virgin. And I offered to take his virginity, he accepted my offer immediately but now he’s hesitant. Not because he isn’t attracted to me, but because he’s nervous.

Spencer is very insecure about his body, but to me..he’s perfect. Even though I’ve never seen (yet) Spencer’s dick, I’ve heard lots of stories about how the tall nerdy white boys always have the biggest dicks..let’s hope it’s true.

We finally made it to the office and I turned around and locked the door. I turned back around and pulled Spencer into a deep passionate kiss. He was feeling and touching all over my body as I wrapped my hands around his neck. His lips were so soft and plump.

He squeezed my ass mid kiss and I felt myself get wet. My stomach was filled with butterflies and my panties were damp. He began to walk us over to the couch, I slid his shirt off of him and was met with his bare chest.

I looked him in his eyes before licking a stripe up his stomach as he let out a loud moan. I smirked at his reaction as I then stood back up and started placing kisses on his pecs. “Shit!” He moaned as his head flew back.

I placed one last kiss on his stomach before pushing him on the soft rug beneath us. I was still in my flared pants as I sat down on top of his growing boner. Spencer and I both still had our pants on so the friction felt even better as I kept grinding on him. “Please!” He begged as I chuckled. “Please what, Spencer?” I teasingly asked.

“I w-wanna feel you.” He choked out. I hummed before standing up and stripping out of my clothes. He looked up with his big chocolate brown eyes, his eyes had this desperate pleading look in them. It just turned me on even more.

I then straddled over his waist and my hands flew to his belt and unbuckled it. His cock was hard and poking through his boxers, I softly touched it as whined. I then pulled him out of his boxers and he was..huge.

His cock was really long, it had a slight curve to it, veins, and a pink mushroom tip that had precum leaking. I moaned at the sight, my mouth was watering at this point. I got off of his lap and got on my knees, arching my back, and started slowly stroking him. ‘Oh my!” He moaned as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “You like that?” I asked lowly as I licked my lips.

“Yes!” He shouted as I shushed him. “We can’t let anyone know that you’re back here about to cum.” I teased.

Spencer has never even had a woman touch him- the pleasure was too much for him. It was the best thing he’s ever felt, he’s definitely gonna want more after this.

I arched my back deeper as I took him in my mouth. Spencer wanted to cum right in that moment. The way my warm wet mouth felt on his dick, taking him in, arching my back with no pantie,s no bra, just bare in front of him. He felt like he was in heaven.

I started bobbing my head up and down on his long cock. His dick was touching the back of my throat and it made me so wet. He placed his hand on the back of my head, guiding me slowly. “You suck it so good-fuck!” He groaned to himself.

Spencer’s head was thrown back as I hollowed my cheeks on his cock. I felt his cock twitch and saw his legs tense up. It was turning me on, my body was heating up and I was wet. I could literally feel my juices dripping down my inner thighs.

I pulled his dick out my mouth and rubbed his thighs softly. “You feel good so far, Spencer?” I said with a soft smile. “Please-keep going.” He said breathlessly. I took that as a yes. His balls looked so heavy and filled with cum…it’s only right that I take that stress away from him.

I started sucking on his balls while I squeezed his cock with my hand. “Nngh!” He grunted as I sucked on his balls a little more rougher this time. I pumped his cock a few more times and he let out a loud whine as cum shot out of his cock onto my hand and face.

I was in shock as Spencer sat there heavily breathing, trying to catch his breath. His cock had softened but was still somewhat hard with cum leaking down his shaft.

[chillentertainer]

inspired by @searchingforserendipity25's amazing post, here are some of my silly ideas i banged out this fine snowy winter evening (shout out climate change because snow in texas!)

The one where the Pope discovers that magic is real and that Thomas Lawrence is a wizard. Except are you really a wizard if you haven't used magic for about half your life (the answer is yes because Lawrence uses it expertly to save Benitez's life)

The one where Bellini is down on his luck and in desperate need of money so he gets a sugar daddy. And that sugar daddy is Tedesco. They don’t discover the other’s true identities until decades later when they run into each other in Rome. 

The one where there is some kind of natural disaster which traps Tedesco and Benitez in the same room for hours on end. By the end of it, at least three (3) kisses, two (2) orgasms, and one (1) blowjob has been exchanged. They’re still “enemies”. But now Tedesco is inexplicably Benitez’s #1 private supporter and nearly bit off a bishop’s head when they spoke ill of Innocent 

The one where they are exploring the final frontier on a starship and the captain suddenly dies. So now they must elect a new captain. Also this mysterious officer shows up out of nowhere and apparently he used to work with refugees from the Federation-Klingon war?

The one where Thomas Lawrence is a painter in the 1800s and struggling to find artistic inspiration when Vincent Benitez, a fellow painter, arrives in town. 

The one where Thomas Lawrence endures a string of assassination attempts that he hides with increasing difficulty from the Pope, until his car literally Blows Up, and a piece of shrapnel narrowly misses a vital organ. Benitez is Not Happy about this. Ray does a little investigating because he’s also Unhappy someone tried to blow up the only Englishman he likes and finds out that one of the Cardinals is still paranoid about the simony list�� 

The one where they’re in a symphony and the conductor just died and now they need a new conductor. Lawrence plays first violin. Sometimes he wishes his hands literally fall off before he has to pick up the violin and play again. 

The one where the plane crashes a la Yellowjackets! 

During these two months, Lawrence will offer himself up as food five different times. Bellini will begin to wonder about his friend’s mental health. Tedesco is the only one who seriously does want to eat Lawrence. (He's a hungry bitch who went through food scarcity as a child, can you blame him?)

Lawrence and Benitez will stare at each other longingly over the campfire for four weeks. Ray will notice these gazes and be reminded of the time he went and saw Portrait of a Lady on Fire by himself after a close friend recommended it to him and that close friend died before Ray could ask why they told him, a Bishop of the Catholic Church, to see a period drama about lesbian French women. Now he understands. 

Bellini and Tedesco will argue and then fuck it out thrice. They will be secretive and nonchalant and everyone will know because Bellini is limping and Tedesco appears unusually happy. Also sound travels far in a quiet forest. 

Tremblay will take over certain survival tasks twice because he was a Boy Scout in his youth, only to accidentally almost poison the soup with hallucinogenic mushrooms. Benitez catches this mistake just in time, but Tedesco isn’t listening (he’s too busy scripting out the next fight between him and Bellini) and takes a bite. While he doesn’t die, he instead has a vivid dream where he and Bellini turn into slime and merge into a giant slime puddle. He wakes up with an erection. Death is preferable in his opinion. 

And finally, Lawrence’s mild fever will worsen considerably one night, to the point of fatality, and he will hold Vincent’s hands as he confesses all of his sins and love for Vincent, though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, but he does he does he does, and please use my body to survive and continue God’s work, and Vincent tearfully agrees, only for Ray to shout aha! because he got the damn radio to work and contacted the rescuers.

[rallentando1011]

hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with a s/o who has insomnia unless they’re cuddling their boyfriend or their giant eevee plush in their own house or stealing something from the boys. Like if they got nothing to bury their face in and squish in their sleep, they ain’t sleeping and look tired the next day. They just look so lonely and lost without something to sleep with too. Totally steals one of Raphael’s teddies when they sleep over as Raphael’s lover. For Donnie, probably fall asleep with shelldon if Donnie isn’t for grabs and yes, shelldon was very comfortable, he felt warm and sturdy like Donnie’s plastron sort off. Leo’s pillow which he is never getting back.

ROTTMNT Boys + Insomniac Reader

Donnie

For Donnie, late nights, all nighters and the unfortunate side effects of the points are not uncommon

His lab work often requires that he stays up late and starts early as a matter of expediency

But that’s not the problem right now

The problem he notices on one late night is how exhausted you are, slumped entirely on his precious desk space

Donnie lightheartedly asks how much melatonin you took only to be met with a condemning look, his main cause of concern

“HOW MUCH- Ahem, I mean, how much melatonin did you take?”

“Like, a handful.”

“And this is a nightly occurrence?”

“Just about.”

“By Darwin- let’s get you to sleep for now. Tomorrow, we’re doing a physical and psych eval. because how are you even alive.”

Donnie sets you up on a sufficiently cozy bench in the lab with a certain drone taking up residence on your lap

After laying you down, the man moves straight back to working at his desk, much to your chagrin

However, that doesn’t mean you don’t have some tricks up your sleeve

“Respectfully, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. makes a better cuddle buddy,” you call idly to the turtle, trying to conceal your cuddle-seeking agenda

A contemplative hum is Donnie’s response

You persist. “No offense. He’s warm. You’re cold. Not much of a competition.”

“Begrudging sigh- get over here.”

“Say what now?”

“I know you heard me and shan’t be repeating myself. Take up the offer or don’t.”

“Aw. What a sweetheart.”

You join him at his desk chair, curling up cozily into his side with a smug grin, a content drone still on your lap

But your smugness doesn’t last long

Within a few minutes, you’re completely slumped over on Donnie’s shoulder

Donnie also doesn’t have the ability to boast as he too finds himself resting on you, snoring rhythmically into a deep sleep

Mikey

Mikey immediately notices something’s up

Your terrible motor function, your tendency to lean, half-asleep, against any flat surface you find, not to mention your nearly complete lack of hand-eye coordination

Everything comes to a boiling point, quite literally, when you two are cooking together and you zone out with your head down on the counter as your mushroom risotto almost boils over

After he gets the heat off and that situation under control, it’s time for Dr. Feelings to step in and get some answers

“What’s going on?”

“What d’you mean?”

“You seem really drowsy. If something’s wrong, you can tell me. Or not. Any way you’re comfortable with.”

“Nothing’s wrong, per say. It’s just - getting to bed has been really difficult this week for some reason.”

Mikey nods, understanding completely

Once he correctly cleans and puts away dishes and foods, he recommends that you two converse in his room about the situation

You agree, walking alongside him through the lair on precarious legs

The box turtle lays on his bed with you at his side and starts asking questions

When did this bout of insomnia start? What are some of the stressful situations you’ve experienced recently?

As you roll to be right at his side, feeling how warm and cozy the bed feels, admiring the distant babble of potential issues and solutions of this rough patch, the lure of sleep becomes more and more tantalizing

Mikey finishes a thought and looks to you for your opinion, though he’s met with calmly closed eyes and shallow breathing

A smile comes across his face and - even though the in depth solution for this is a larger issue - that is an obstacle in a lot more than just the fact for another day

For now, he just bundles up beside you and drifts off to sleep

Leo

At first when Leo notices your perpetual grogginess, he plays it off as a joke

Asking you what kind of coffin you slept in, referring to you as an elderly person, he’s always got some sort of quip

The concern in his eyes is almost imperceptible

Eventually, his concern cracks through your shell and you feed up to how difficult it is to get to sleep every night

Leo goes slack-jawed

Not only have you been struggling to sleep like his own restless self, but he’s been ribbing you for it?

He’s flabbergasted

“Before you ask, yes, I even tried shutting my phone off and still couldn’t

“Man. This is serious.”

Leo immediately sets to grabbing materials - only the necessities, of course - popcorn, throw blankets, all of his unicorn plushies, good old-fashioned Jupiter Jim movies, and warm tea

The man knows from personal experience that one of the best ways to make yourself sleep is to completely drain your energy and set up a situation in which it is literally impossible not to fall asleep in

“How could snacks possibly help me fall asleep?”

“Not to say just trust me, but just trust me.”

“Source: trust me bro.”

“Exactly.”

One movie and snack time later, you found yourself swaddled in innumerable blankets, plush unicorns clutched tightly to your chest, shoulder to shoulder with your turtle and halfway to unconsciousness, you saw the validity in what he was saying

“Don’t make me regret saying this, but you were right.”

“Of course. When aren’t I?”

“Seriously, thanks.”

“Literally anytime.”

Raph

Raph immediately senses that something’s wrong the second he tries to go to sleep

He goes through his nightly routine just fine: putting on his onesie, brushing his teeth, popping in his retainer, kissing each of his teddy bears goodnight-

Except he can’t

The majority of the plush toys are pristinely lined up in place on his bedside, but as soon as he makes it to the spot of his beloved Captain Cuddles, he’s met only by air and emptiness

And he freaks out

Drawers thrown haphazardly around the room, every piece of furniture in the lair unturned, not a single object in the lair remains unsearched

He’s exasperated, exhausted, completely distraught until you call to tell goodnight

When you hear he’s upset and ask why, he lets you in on the situation

And he’s met with silence

Guilty silence

Before he could chide you, you hung up, and within the hour you were at the lair

Raph seems betrayed, voice cracking and everything, as he asks why you committed such a dissolute deed

“I just haven’t caught much sleep this week, and having something soft or something of yours helps, you know?”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

“Like, three days?”

“It’s only Wednesday.”

“Yep.”

Suddenly, all the stress and distress melts away from his brow, the tension from his shoulders, all replaced by understanding

What was probably going to be an thirty minute rant about the significance of his teddies instead turns into a soft spoken invitation to have a sleepover, and that is an offer you can’t refuse

So, Raph ends up being able to wish each of his stuffies goodnight - and you, too - your head resting on his plastron, the two of you cozily cuddled up

[blackhairedjjun]

the forest of you

pairing: choi soobin x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, cottagecore au, fantasy au, prince!soobin x witch!reader, mutual pining, just very soft vibes | word count: 1.9k | warnings: none, just a little (friendly) teasing

summary: prince soobin lives undercover as a commoner as part of a royal tradition, and you are the local potion-maker tasked with caring for him and magically maintaining his disguise. you take him to the forest one day to forage for ingredients, and you start to realize just how much you need him with you.

author's notes: i wrote this after binge-listening to soobin's forest cover, it was just soooo comforting and beautiful 🥰🥰 this fic isn't that overtly romantic since i mostly focused on recreating the comforting vibes and message of the original cover, but the pining is still there (i hope). the premise of this story is based on an idea i had some time ago but never turned into a fic, i do have ideas for fics in the same setting though!

(support by reblogging banner by @/cafekitsune)

“y’know, soobin, you’ve become less scared of the forest since you got here,” you say, swinging your herb basket back and forth as you walk.

“oh really?” the prince stares at you, his mouth agape at first before morphing into his familiar dimpled smile. cute. “i suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“it’s a very good thing. having company with me is nice.”

soobin trails behind you as you trudge down the worn dirt paths of the forest, trees on all sides towering over you. you hum as you walk, eyes on the lookout for anything of use in your potions: flowers, berries, mushrooms, seeds, leaves, even fallen bird feathers. from time to time you turn back to glance at your ward, who follows at a comfortable pace while gazing at the canopy above him.

he stops in his tracks and points at a patch of mushrooms growing on the bark of a tree. the mushrooms are at his eye level, above your head. “wait, these are the ones you use for my disguise potion, right?”

“that’s right! i missed that 一 thank goodness i’ve got a tall person helping me out.”

soobin pries the mushrooms from the bark hands it to you, a proud grin on his face. you can’t help but smile yourself in admiration, and your smile only grows when his hands brush yours while he places them in your basket. “thank you,” you whisper.

now you walk side-by-side through the forest, and you much prefer it this way. even with his princely nature hidden, you find something reassuring about his presence: soobin towers over you, but he moves slowly, deliberately matching his stride to yours, even the swinging of his arms in sync. he stays close by you, as if protecting you from anything that might leap out of the forest, and your arms nearly brush his a few times.

every now and then you stop to take something from the forest: a cluster of deep red berries, a yellow-green fern growing in swirling patterns, a flower so white it practically shines on the forest floor. soobin gazes at you intently as you do your job, and you’re so engrossed in your work that you miss the soft smile that crosses his face while he observes.

“did you really do all this by yourself before i came here?” he asks as you step through a narrow space between two gnarled trees. in the distance some birds begin to caw, but you don’t even flinch at the sound.

“pretty much. i’m used to it, i guess.”

“and you weren’t lonely or scared? that’s really cool, y/n.”

“i wasn’t always like this,” you say as you pry another mushroom from some tree bark for soobin’s disguise potion. “the first time i went on my own, i wanted to prove to my parents that i could forage by myself. y’know, be a real witch and everything. but i was shaking the whole time... and i missed my parents so much. they used to point out the different birds to me while they foraged, or they’d just look at me all excited if they found a rare ingredient. and that’s what i missed the most, just having someone to be with.”

soobin presses his lips together as he listens to you. you’ve been foraging on your own for years, and though you tell yourself that you’re used to it, your heart aches at the memory. you turn to face him and your eyes meet. 

“i get what you mean,” he says. “when i first came here for my incognito period, i remember missing everyone a lot. my parents and all the palace staff... kai, beomgyu... your cottage was so quiet in comparison. not that it’s a bad place, it’s just...”

“not home?”

soobin nods, his gaze falling to the dried leaves on the forest floor. the two of you continue walking through the forest, stopping only a few minutes later so that you can collect a few wild berries from a bush.

“it feels more like home now, though,” soobin says as he crouches down to help you. “i like the smell of the herbs from your garden and how toasty the cauldron room is. and helping you is, ah, it’s fun... you care about your potions so much and i like watching you work.”

you laugh softly to yourself, turning away as you feel a warmth spread through your cheeks. “it’s... well, i’m used to it. and having you around has helped a lot.”

“sometimes i feel more like a bother than a help. you work so fast!”

“don’t say that, you’re plenty helpful. look at you right now, i would have missed some of the berries hidden here if it weren’t for you.”

with the berries collected and placed in your basket, you stand up at the same time. you don’t realize at first how close soobin is standing to you, but your eyes meet his and you can’t bring it in yourself to look away. the prince gazes at you as if trying to speak without words, as if telling you from his presence alone that everything will be alright.

he reminds you of the forest too, you think: tall and quiet and seemingly stern, but filled with a cool comfort all his own. 

your mutual reverie is broken by the cawing of a nearby flock of birds. soobin jumps and nearly falls; you grab onto his hand and you both wobble before he finds his balance.

“sorry...”

“it’s一it’s fine.” your hand is still holding onto his, and your cheeks feel hot. “we should keep moving.”

the two of you continue through the forest, taking care not to travel too deep but stay at the periphery. soobin stays close to you, and you thread your arm through his 一 this will slow your pace, but you don’t mind.

“by the way, i changed the measurements of the disguise potion a bit,” you say as soobin crouches down to pick some flowerbuds. “i’m not sure if you felt any difference.”

“oh really? it felt the same to me.” he shrugs and places the flowerbuds in your basket. “i always feel... disoriented when i use it.”

“i know, that’s why i was trying to change it...”

“don’t worry about it too much.” soobin glances up at a tree branch right above him, and a cool breeze blows down on both of you. “it’s just... when i’m a prince, i feel shy from all the people watching me, but when i’m disguised, it feels odd not being recognized, as if no one cares about me. does that make sense?”

you’re quiet for a few moments. you glance up at the canopy, then back at soobin; prince or not, there’s something about him that feels right at home here. 

“i see what you mean... being around others is exhausting, but being by yourself is lonely. right?”

“yeah, exactly.”

“what about being with me?” you give him a teasing grin. “do you ever get sick of me?”

he grins right back at you, even rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “yeah, i get totally sick of you. when i become prince again i’m banishing you so that i never see you again.”

“you could never do that, i bet. who’s going to make the potions of soothing to help you fall asleep, huh?”

“i’ve been stuck with you long enough that i could make it myself!”

you elbow him gently and you both laugh. the sound rings through the forest, and it makes the place seem smaller and warmer than it is.

you’ve often wondered what will happen when soobin’s incognito period ends and he goes back to his princely role. when the royal family first approached you to help with their son’s journey 一 apparently an old tradition to help future monarchs stay in touch with the common folk 一 you didn’t think much of it. you’d get an apprentice, make a few extra potions of disguise for him, then collect a hefty royal commission after eighteen months. at first, it had been nothing more than a chance to get an extra pair of hands and supplement your income as a potion-making witch.

but as you walk through the forest, arm in arm with soobin, you realize that you like the new routine you’ve established. the young prince helps you sell potions and make bread for meals, and more than once you’ve caught him giving harsh glares at rude customers who want to use your potions for nefarious purposes. and though his accompaniment to your weekly forages were originally nothing more than an excuse to get some help, you now find it impossible to imagine going on them without him.

soobin and the forest and you: in your mind they all fit together.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that he has to move in front of you to catch your attention. “y/n?”

“oh 一 sorry!”

“you know i was just kidding, right?”

“huh...?”

“about banishing you, i mean,” he says. “i like being around you too much.”

“ah 一 yeah! d-don’t worry, i know,” you say, and now even your ears are warm together with your cheeks. “and um, thank you.”

you blink a few times and glance around. the trees have become more gnarled and more densely packed together. you realize that the two of you are starting to approach the heart of the forest; go any deeper and things will get dangerous, not just from wild animals but also from wild magic. “uh, we should... go back...”

soobin nods and waits for you to lead the way before falling in beside you. again he offers his arm, and you thread yours around it. with his free hand he offers to carry your basket for you; it has gotten heavier from the foraging you’ve been doing. you shake your head and give him a polite smile, letting him know that you can carry it just fine, but the gesture opens up a lightness in your heart.

the walk back to the main road is quiet, but not awkwardly so. such moments of silence are not uncommon with soobin, but they have a comfort all their own; the prince smiles to himself as he walks, taking the time to admire the lush green canopy above or the carpet of flowers and ferns growing in between the tree roots. you find yourself sneaking glances at him and following his gaze to whatever plant has caught his attention 一 you’re so used to forest forages that you’ve forgotten how to stop and admire the scenery.

can you really imagine the forest without him? you feel his arm wound around yours, anchoring you, and it reminds you of the tree roots beneath your feet.

by the time you reach the edge of the forest, the sun has started to set and the sky has turned orange. rays of yellow light peek through the remains of the canopy. you put your free hand up to your face to block out the most blinding rays, and soobin tightens his grip around your arm. 

“let’s go home?” he says. 

you turn to him and smile. he looks radiant in this light.

“let’s go home.”

[sourpatchys]

what are your opinions on Daryl's dick size

Never in my life did I think I’d have the absolute honor to be asked for dick headcannons, but here we are!!

This honestly kinda threw me for a loop because I’ve never thought about it independently, I’ve just agreed with everyone else lmaooo

So, I hope you still enjoy— even if I’m not adding anything super substantial to the table

NSFW below the cut 18+ MDNI

A/n: please ignore how weird the columns look I have no idea why they did that, I’m on mobile rn so the interface is a little different than I’m used too when posting haha

—

Daryl isn’t a super hairy guy, especially not down below. He’s never bothered to shave though, not before the world went under and definitely not after. If his body is going to grow hair then who is he to say otherwise?? It was bad enough shaving his face when he was a teen, why the hell would be put his genitals through that torture??

Realistically, Daryl’s probably supporting a good 6 inch dick maybe 6.5, with a pretty average girth at around 4.59. He’s not self conscious of his size— he never really understood why anyone would be in the first place. (That didn’t stop him from laughing at the jokes and making a few of his own in his youth through)

He’s definitely circumcised, a religious family from the south made sure of that. He has a couple distinct veins going along the sides, not aggressive looking but they’re definitely visible, and he has a slight indentation on the underside leading a beautiful stripe right up from base to tip

I don’t take Daryl as the Masturbation type, at least not often. You could definitely find soft spots and pleasure spikes that he’s never found on his own before

The head of his dick has a slightly pink hue, perfectly mushroom shaped, and his urethra is one hole (there’s no slot in the middle)

He’s always a mess after cumming, he doesn’t get off much (at least not on his own) so when he finishes he finishes hard. He’s completely pent up.

Obviously with no showers available (and Daryl in general just hating showers for some reason) he can (and usually does) have a smell of some kind, though I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily overpowering. He’d likely wash off a little before letting you anywhere near his crotch though.

He’s a grower— not a shower. Flaccid, his sick isn’t much to write home about, which isn’t something he minds— running around in the hot Georgia sun isn’t exactly fun. Least of all of you have a huge dick swinging between your legs.

He’s got a pretty tight sack— not too big or too small— which could be considered odd for his age, but given his lackluster sexual desires without a partner, they don’t really get much use. (And he’s not complaining)

[dixons-sunshine]

More Than Meets The Eye | Quarters Of The Undead

(GIF isn’t mine)

Summary: After Shane demands mushrooms be included in the evening’s dinner, Georgie is sent to go searching for some, her first time ever drifting that far from the camp. But she soon discovers that there’s more than just mushrooms out in the woods.

Era: The Quarry

Part of the Quarters Of The Undead AU.

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, I think that’s it.

Word count: 4.7k

Pairings: Georgianna Hawkins x Daryl Dixon (unestablished/“platonic”); Lydia Vector x Scud Frohmeyer (established/romantic)

A/N: This took me forever to finish but here it is! I hope y’all like it. And massive thanks to @dixonsdarkelf for help with the summary.

Life as she knew it was over. Gone were the days of staying up late to work on grading assignments. Gone were the days of lounging around in the living room with Scud while waiting for Vec to come home from work. Gone were the days where deadlines and failed dates were Georgie’s biggest worries. Instead, now she had to worry about survival. She had to worry about food, safe drinking water. She had to worry about whether or not she would live to see the next day. Despite living in a camp that seemed safe, she knew that everything could change in a blink of an eye. She had seen it happen when the dead first started walking.

Georgie sighed as she worked on fixing a hole in Shane Walsh’s shirt. Or ‘Deputy Dick’, as she had so affectionately named him. A title Vec and Scud had picked up on and used more than even she did. She sat by the unlit campfire as she worked, dreading the nearly full laundry basket of clothes that all had tears or holes that needed fixing. Yes, she loved sewing, but her hand was beginning to cramp up. She needed a break, but she did not want Deputy Dick breathing down her neck for it.

“What the fuck does he do that makes new holes appear in his clothes every single day?” Georgie muttered under her breath, her brows furrowed together in frustration.

From beside her, her best friend, Vec, simply chuckled. “Roll around on the ground, probably,” she mused, leaning back in her chair. “At least then he would be doing something except sit on his ass and “guard the camp” all day.”

Georgie laughed at that and nodded in agreement. “So true.” Her laughter got replaced by a small hiss of pain when she accidentally pricked her finger with the needle. “Shit!”

“You alright, babe?” Vec asked in concern, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just pricked my finger,” she replied with a sigh, closing her eyes to will the stinging sensation away.

“You sure? If you think you need stitches, let me know. I’ll go get the kit right now.”

Georgie laughed at her best friend. She appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood. “I’m sure I’ll survive.” She finished closing the hole in the shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket, before getting up and stretching to get rid of the kinks that had formed in her back. “I think I need a break, though.”

Before Vec could speak up, a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Hey, Vee,” Scud greeted her, having to lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head due to Vec being seated on the chair.

“Yup, now I definitely need a break,” Georgie joked, sending Scud a pointed look.

Scud rolled his eyes and flipped her off. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of you? Definitely not.” Georgie pretended to gag, before laughing and looking back to Vec. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna go get something from the tent.”

“Okay,” Vec replied, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she peered at Georgie. “You think you could bring my notebook with you?”

“Of course.”

With that, she stalked off towards the tent she shared with Scud and Vec. It was set up near the outskirts, close enough to be a part of the camp, but far enough away that they still had some semblance of privacy. Well, some privacy. Another tent was set up not too far away from theirs. A gray, medium-sized tent that belonged to the Dixon brothers.

Georgie did not know how she felt about the Dixon brothers. When her and Vec had been brought back by Shane, they had already been there. Merle Dixon had wasted no time in being crude to her and Vec. Sexual comments, rude gestures, everything. Georgie had met quite a few guys that needed a reality check in her life, but none of them had been quite as bad as the oldest Dixon brother. And Daryl…

Truth be told, Georgie did not know what to make of the younger Dixon brother. All she knew about him was that he could be quite the sass mouth when he wanted to be. However, he tended to keep more to himself, slinking away into the woods more often than not, sometimes only returning days later with squirrels or other game. From what she could gather, he was a bit of a hothead at times, but he seemed to be nothing like his brother. At least, as far as Georgie could tell.

Georgie heard them before she saw them. Looking up from the ground, she stopped in her tracks and had to witness the same men she had been thinking about only moments prior argue for what seemed like the millionth time. She tended to ignore them when they got into their debacles, but she would not be able to now. For some reason, the two brothers had decided that the front of her tent would be the perfect spot for their battleground.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?! We could’a used that, Merle!” Daryl exclaimed, angrily motioning towards the tent, towards something that Georgie couldn’t see.

Merle simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, absentmindedly wiping at his nose. “Well boohoo. If ya ask me, you oughta shut your mouth before I break your teeth, Darylina.”

Georgie could see that Daryl was getting angrier by the second. He was practically seething at that point. If someone didn’t intervene, the front of her tent would definitely turn into a war ground, and not only metaphorically. She knew she would not be able to stop them, but if they truly were about to start throwing punches, she wanted to at least get what she had came for before they began.

Forcing herself to brave the situation, she walked on and brushed past them, turning their attention to her. She suddenly felt small under their gazes, but she attempted to remain calm.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. You two can go on in a moment,” she mumbled, ducking into her tent. Working at lightning speed, she grabbed Vec’s notebook and pen from beside her sleeping bag, as well as her own sketchbook and pencil. Shane Walsh’s clothes be damned, she wanted to unwind. While doing so, she was rather shocked that she didn’t hear anymore arguing. Seems like her interruption had managed to prevent the fight from escalating, she figured.

Making her way out of the tent in record time—it had to have been less than a minute—she was surprised to see Daryl still standing right where she had last seen him. Merle had already walked off, her prior interruption having stopped their argument long enough for him to have been the one to get the final say before disappearing. Daryl, however, was still rooted in his spot, for reasons even he himself was unaware.

His piercing cerulean-coloured eyes bored down into her chocolate-coloured ones. He was silent, unmoving, his eyebrows furrowed together in a thoughtful look. His gaze made Georgie shift her weight from one foot to the other, feeling a touch unsettled by it.

“Do you need something?” she asked after a few more beats of silence. Merle was gone, so what could Daryl still be doing in front of her tent? She did not know what to expect. She had never even spoken to him before. She had to learn his name from Scud, so she was unsure what he was about to do. Apologize? Yell at her for butting into their argument? She did not know.

After a few moments of contemplation, Daryl simply turned around and walked off. No apology, no yelling, nothing. Just silence as he disappeared into his own tent. Georgie raised her eyebrows as she watched him close the tent flap, not knowing how to feel about what had just happened.

“Okay, then,” she mused aloud to herself. She shook her head and made her way back to the campsite, back to the unlit campfire where Vec and Scud were.

When Vec saw Georgie, she nudged her head in the direction of their tent. “What was that all about?”

Georgie collapsed into the chair, reaching over to hand Vec her notebook and pen. “You saw that?”

“I heard it.” She opened her notebook, before adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Georgie sighed and shook her head. “I don’t even know. Daryl was pissed at Merle for something. Said “they could have used it”,” Georgie repeated what she had heard. “I wanted to get our things, though, so I pushed past them. That seemed to end their argument.”

“Wait, seriously?” Scud voiced, a little bit impressed. “You usually hate butting into people’s arguments.”

“I do, but they were in front of our tent. I wanted to get our things,” Georgie shrugged nonchalantly. Truth be told, even she was surprised by how bold she had been. Despite not having said much or told them to go argue somewhere else, that was still something new for her. Usually, she would have shrunk away, let them be and hoped that they would go away soon enough. It seemed like the apocalypse was beginning to strengthen her resolve, little by little.

”Damn, Gin. I’m so proud right now,” Vec spoke up, playfully wiping away a nonexistent tear. “I knew you had it in you.”

Georgie chuckled and threw her pencil at Vec, which only elicited a laugh from her. “I hate you both.”

Vec’s laughter died down, and she leaned back in her seat. “Those brothers really are something.”

“Yes, they are.”

Georgie couldn’t seem to get that look Daryl had given her out of her mind. Despite it not being friendly, it had not been hostile, either. For a moment, it had looked like he had been… intrigued?

No, she thought to herself, opening her sketchbook and gratefully accepting the pencil from Vec. She was overthinking it. She needed to forget about it.

However, that was easier said than done.

Georgie sighed as she walked up to Dale. She glanced back towards the cliff, in the direction where the most of the women in the camp had disappeared down to wash the laundry. The Hawkins woman would have followed behind them like usual, but she had been stopped by the Horvath man. For what reason, she was unaware.

“Georgianna,” Dale said in greeting, sending her a friendly smile as he moved to meet her halfway, a small bag in his grasp.

Georgie smiled at him. “How many times do I have to say that just ‘Georgie’ is fine?” she asked him light-heartedly.

“Well, I think Georgianna is a beautiful name and it should be said more often,” Dale countered playfully.

Georgie simply shook her head. “What can I do for you, Dale?”

“How much do you know about mushrooms?”

That took her off guard. “Oh,” she began, frowning slightly. “Enough to know what the poisonous ones look like, but I’m not super confident in my skills. You’d probably have better luck asking Lori.”

Dale pursed his lips. “I would, but I have no idea where she is.” He adjusted the strap of his shotgun over his shoulder. “Shane wants there to be mushrooms with tonight’s dinner.”

Georgie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course he does,” she muttered under her breath. “So you want me to go look for some?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” he confirmed, holding the bag he had in his hands out towards her.

She smiled at him reassuringly. “It’s not.” Georgie took the bag from him and stepped back. “Believe me, this is a blessing. I’ve been waiting for a reason to explore the woods a bit.” She stopped for a moment and frowned a little. “Am I gonna be alone?”

Dale thought for a moment. “Yes and no? I think Daryl is out hunting, so you might run into him. But you can take someone else with you if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay,” Georgie said. “I got it.”

Dale smiled at her. “Don’t go too far, though. Stay within shouting distance,” he repeated what he always told anyone that went into the woods. He moved towards the ladder that lead up to the roof of the RV. “And be back before sundown.”

“Could you maybe tell Vec where I’m going if she asks?”

“Of course.”

With that, Dale made his way up the ladder, leaving Georgie alone with her thoughts. She smiled to herself and walked off, stopping only for a brief moment to pick up one of the knives that laid on the chair next to the campfire. It wasn’t exactly the type of knife a person would use when hunting or defending themselves, but it would do. She would not go into the woods without some way to defend herself.

With one final glance at the campsite, she disappeared into the trees, making sure to keep her senses on high alert as she stalked further and further away from the safety of the camp. Despite nothing having happened thus far, she did not feel like testing her luck. She definitely did not feel like getting eaten alive.

“Mushrooms,” Georgie muttered to herself as she looked down at the forest floor, slowing her pace down. “Look for mushrooms.” She bent down and picked up what she thought was a mushroom, quickly discovered it wasn’t, and threw it to the side. “Much easier said than done, but it’s fine. At least I don’t have to do laundry for a change.”

Georgie didn’t know how long she was in the woods, scouring the ground for mushrooms and cutting her hands on a twig once or twice. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. She had a tendency to have no grasp on time or reality when she busied her mind with a task. However, she quickly got brought back to reality when she heard a twig snap behind her. She spun around and gripped the knife in her hand, fully prepared to see a walker stumbling towards her. However, she was surprised to be met with a crossbow raised towards her, piercing blue eyes peering at her over the weapon. The same blue eyes of the man she had spoken to at her tent a few days before.

The air was thick, the silence palpable. For what felt like forever, Georgie and the crossbow-wielding archer just stared at each other, their respective weapons still raised in front of them. However, surprisingly, the younger Dixon was the one to back off first.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and simply looked at Georgie for another few seconds, before speaking up. “The hell’re you doin’ out here?”

Georgie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She lowered the knife in her hand and simply raised the bag she held in her other one. “Scouring for mushrooms.”

The huntsman hummed in acknowledgement. However, he still looked tense. “Y’shouldn’t be out here,” he replied curtly, his tone cold and lacking any friendliness. “S’too dangerous.”

The Hawkins woman let out a scoff and rolled her eyes. “Typical,” she mumbled, shaking her head, before raising her voice again. “I’m fine.” With that, she turned around and walked on, continuing her search for the damned mushrooms.

Georgie barely got a few feet away before Daryl’s voice rung through the air once more. “S’gettin’ dark. Pretty sure s’hard to find things when ya can’t even see.”

She couldn’t figure out if he was being condescending or not. His tone didn’t waver, nor did his stance, Georgie noted when she turned back around. He was rooted in the same spot, a few squirrels strung over his shoulder and his face betrayed nothing. He managed to upkeep his stoic stature.

Glancing up, Georgie realized that he was right. The sun was beginning to disappear from the sky, its rays painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow. Time had flown by. How long had she been in the woods?

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, silently observing her. He waited for her to say something, to tell him to get lost or to leave her alone. He expected it, honestly, and after what she had witnessed between him and Merle, he couldn’t blame her. He would tell himself to go away after that.

“Jesus,” Georgie began after a few moments, turning back to him. “How long have I been out here?” She knew it was futile to ask him. Unless he had been following her since she left the camp, she seriously doubted he would be able to answer her question.

Daryl shrugged and cleared his throat. “The hell’re ya askin’ me for?”

“Sorry.” Georgie raised her hands in mock-surrender. “It was a rhetorical question. No need to bite my head off.”

He simply hummed again, his eyes flickering over her face for a few moments, before looking behind her at something. “Behind ya.”

Georgie spun around, her heart pounding against her ribcage, fully prepared to find someone—or something—but she was met with nothing except trees. Was he doing this for laughs? Did he do that as some sort of payback for interrupting him and Merle the other day?

“Why the fuck would you do that, Daryl?” she asked in exasperation, turning back to him. “You want me to have a heart attack?”

Daryl said nothing. He merely looked at her for a second, before stalking over to her. Or, well, behind her. He bent down, picked something up and extended it towards her. A mushroom.

Georgie felt rather stupid in that moment. She’d snapped at him for nothing. He was just helping her out. However, he definitely could have pointed it out in a better way, she thought to herself as she accepted it from his grasp.

“Thanks.”

Daryl stood up and adjusted his hold on his beloved crossbow, slightly towering over her. He wasn’t that much taller than her—only about four inches, if she had to guess—but it was enough to make her have to look up at him. The sun caught in his hair, giving it a golden hue, and upon closer inspection, Georgie could see little specks of green in his eyes. And the—

“Don’t mention it.”

That snapped Georgie back to reality. She frowned at herself and took a step back from the archer. What was that about?

Daryl glanced up at the sky. “I’d head back if I were you. It ain’t safe out here.”

“Why do you care?” She knew she was being harsh. She knew it was uncalled for. She instantly felt bad about it. “Sorry. I’m sorry, that was rude. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Ain’t nothin’. Heard worse.” Daryl wiped his hand off on his jeans. “Jus’ don’t feel like havin’ your death on my conscience if somethin’ happens.”

Georgie nodded and slung the bag over her shoulder. Choosing to be civil as long as he was, she sheathed the knife through the space between her belt and her jeans and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s fair,” she replied. “Lead the way, I guess.”

Daryl’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise, but he made no comment on her compliance. Instead, he nodded and began walking, making his way back. Georgie followed behind him silently, knowing that there was a time and place to be stubborn, and that was neither the or place. With a quick glance around as she moved, she realized that she had no idea where she was anyway, so Daryl choosing to be somewhat persistent about her following him back was a blessing.

Maybe he knew she was lost. He seemed like an observant guy, so she wouldn’t put it past him.

The minutes ticked by in relative silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of leaves crunching under their shoes, the distant sounds of birds’ chirps being replaced by those of crickets, and the whooshing of the late afternoon breeze. It was calm, peaceful, serene. It reminded her of the camping trips her dad used to take her on as a kid.

“Sorry.”

Daryl’s voice rang through the air, taking Georgie by surprise. “What?”

“Sorry,” he repeated himself, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. “For the other day, I mean. The argument. It was ugly and ya didn’t deserve to see it.”

“Oh.” Realization dawned on her. She was shocked to hear him apologize for that. She definitely didn’t expect it. “It’s fine. Shit happens.”

“Mhm.” He glanced at Georgie, finding himself slightly admiring her, even against his better judgement. He wasn’t blind. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he thought she was beautiful. A few days of observing her from afar showed him that she was a good person. And now their earlier encounter showed him that she had a fire in her, too. So how could he not be a little blown away by her?

After a few more seconds of silence, Georgie found herself speaking up again. “So how hard is it to handle that thing anyway?” She knew her attempt at conversation could have been futile. However, if she had to walk in that tense silence a minute longer, she would lose her mind.

Daryl raised his eyebrows in question. “This?” he inquired, raising his crossbow and continuing when she nodded. “Ain’t that hard if ya know what you’re doin’.”

“It can’t be that hard if you’re asking me,” Georgie scoffed, continuing the conversation now that she knew the archer wouldn’t bite her head off for talking.

“Good thing I ain’t askin’ you, then,” he retorted, stepping over a fallen log. “Think you could do it?”

“I mean, I probably could. I can use a compound bow.”

It was Daryl’s turn to scoff. “S’two very different weapons.”

“Still can’t be that difficult. I think I could use it,” Georgie joked, a smile spreading across her face. “In fact, I’m confident that I can.”

To his surprise, Daryl felt his lips quirk up into a small smile. However, he quickly wiped it from his face. “Whatever ya say. M’willin’a bet that you can’t.”

“Okay,” she mused, nodding her head. “Challenge accepted, Robin Hood.”

The archer snorted at that, but he quickly covered it up with a fake cough. To his shock, he found himself enjoying her company. He couldn’t say that about a lot of people, especially not most of the people at the camp, but there he was. He didn’t know how to feel about that fact. He was conflicted.

“Guess we’ll see—”

The sounds of groans reached his ears. Daryl signalled for Georgie to stop, slowly raising his crossbow in front of him as he stalked forward, his footsteps much quieter than they were only seconds before. Georgie followed behind him, her hand hovering close to the knife that rested against her hip. It took her a little bit longer to hear what he did, but when she did, she realized why he was acting so on edge.

“Is it a walker?” she whispered softly, staying close behind him.

Daryl shushed her. “Be quiet, woman,” he warned her.

Georgie nodded. He was the hunter, after all. If there was anyone that knew about the dangers in these woods, it would be him. He practically lived there, anyway. Despite not knowing him well at all, Georgie knew that she had to trust his judgement. So she shut her mouth and observed as he pulled a few leaf-covered branches back to see what danger lurked there.

Of everything that the two of them could have stumbled across, nothing could have prepared them for that. Just as quickly as Daryl lifted the branches, he just as quickly dropped them, too. His face scrunched up in disgust as he practically jumped back, that visual forever ingrained into his mind.

The visual of Shane and Lori going at it in the middle of the forest floor.

Georgie shared his sentiment. Her eyes were widened in horror, her stomach churning as she fought against the urge to throw up. She definitely could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She never wanted to see that.

“Jesus,” she muttered. “I didn’t want to see that.”

Daryl agreed with that statement. “Yeah.”

“Could have gone my whole life without seeing that and I would have been happy.”

“Mhm.”

The Hawkins woman groaned as she walked as far away from the scene of the crime as she could, reassured she was going the right way when Daryl followed behind her instead of correcting her. “At least now I know why Shane keeps getting holes in his shirt. And Lori…”

“Best if ya try not to think about it,” he advised her, although he knew it would be easier said than done.

“Yeah,” Georgie mumbled. She’d had her suspicions about Shane and Lori—they weren’t as subtle as they thought they were—but she never thought she’d confirm them by seeing them in the act.

The rest of the trek was spent in silence, the previous unexpected camaraderie nowhere to be found. The campsite came into view after about another five minutes of walking, and Georgie could see people gathering around the fire pit. Nobody had spotted them yet, but she was sure they would soon. It’s not like Georgie and Daryl were exactly friends, so them coming back together would probably raise some suspicions.

“Thanks,” she began, turning back to Daryl. “For bringing me back. I know I was a bit of a bitch earlier. You could have left me.”

Daryl shrugged. “Nah. Like I said, don’t need your death on my conscience.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” she said, turning away. However, before she could walk off, his voice reached her ears once more.

“What’s your name?”

Georgie turned back to him. “What?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment. Even he was surprised by the fact that he had asked that. He could easily have let her walk off and be done with her. That would have been easy. He didn’t need friends. But despite that, he found himself repeating the question, the same question he had wanted an answer to for longer than he wanted to admit.

“What’s your name?” he asked again. “I mean, y’know mine. You said it earlier. Now I wanna know yours. Ain’t it considered the good mannered thing to do when exchangin’ names with a stranger?”

Georgie’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “You could always just ask my best friend what my name is. Or Scud or Glenn or somebody,” she replied.

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna do that. I wanna hear it from you.”

The Hawkins woman nodded and sent him a small smile. “Georgianna,” she told him after a few beats of silence. “But just about everyone calls me Georgie. It’s your pick, really. I respond to either.” With that, Georgie turned back around and finally left to head back into the campsite, leaving Daryl alone with his own racing thoughts, ones that confused him immensely, ones that he didn’t understand. Ones he needed to figure out. And Georgie left with the thought that there was definitely more to the archer than meets the eye.

After stopping to drop off the bag with the mushrooms, and telling Dale to sort through them just to be sure none of them are poisonous, Georgie stalked over to her tent at record speed, having piping hot tea to spill to her best friend. Outside, Vec was already waiting with her arms crossed over her chest, a smirk on her face as she peered at Georgie.

“D—”

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show her face again,” Vec cut her off, the smirk on her face not wavering, even just for a second. “Don’t worry, by the way. It looks like you’ve got all your clothes on the right side out.”

Georgie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“I’m a little surprised. A few days ago you weren’t even speaking to each other, and now you’re already getting down and dirty? Even Josh and I didn’t move that fast.”

Realization dawned on her. “Dia, no, we—”

The doctor cut her off again, her excitement getting the better of her. “Tell me everything. How was it?”

“I—”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“He—”

“Did he actually make you finish?”

“No, listen—”

“How many times?”

“Wait—”

“You gonna do it again?”

“Lydia!”

That finally seemed to get Vec’s attention. “What?”

Georgie rubbed a hand over her face and laughed. “First of all, nothing happened between us, but we’ll get to that after.”

Vec cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “After what?”

Georgie lowered her voice to a knowing whisper. “You’ll never believe what I saw.”

Georgie belongs to me.

Vec belongs to @dixonsdarkelf.

Taglist: @kat-herine00 @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @holdmytesseract @negansbestie @ffsjustletmesleep @imadisneyprincessiswear

You can reach out to either of us to be added/removed from the taglist.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

kit reads a comic: untold tales and alternate timelines, issue 1 (part 2)

finishing off the rest of the issue today! very convenient this one is split into two. i fear for the length the other reaction posts will be when i have to go through the entire issue for the story instead of half-and-half.

time to look for some good scientists. i'll even take the sub-par ones

oh shit i was right it is about doc getting picked up for the manhattan project! the comic opens on the california institute of technology, 1943, as helpfully supplied by the text box. i think this is the one where doc shows them his jello cube with a singular mushroom in it. the mushroom is very important. anyways, doc storms into i think his boss’s office and he’s very mad! his boss asks him why he’s not teaching to which he replies this:

gotta search up something rq.

yeah this is funny. [a la shrek they don’t even have dental] he doesn’t even teach a math course

docs mad bc he’s noticed all his other colleagues have been disappearing to contribute to what he guesses is a “top-secret think tank” for the war so what’s he still doing here?? that should be him!! (or in his words, “you should’ve bussed me off ages ago!”) throughout his whole rant about credentials and stuff he’s doing this:

the pose and the face are very silly to me. yeah this guy looks highly qualified to me. checks out

i also love how similar he’s drawn to the video game version of him. i can hear this in his younger self’s video game voice

so his boss is like yeah you’re right there is something going on and we thought about you for it and doc immediately takes this as a confirmation that he’s going and asks “can i bring my dog?” which i thought was cute. the canine assistant is very important to him. his boss goes no wait. we get this explanation :

you can say you think his place is a mess. it’s okay. love the stress on “psychologists” too like damn you really think it’s that worrying

doc is not the slightest bit offended he just goes yeah i get it. but ☝️i have an idea

we cut to:

a very tidy and respectable home! seems he’s cleaned up! they’re like yeah based on what we’ve seen we think you’re fit to come with us. then they step on his mail on their way out which reveals that this isn’t his apartment! it’s his landlady’s! tough luck doc….

doc goes home, not deterred by this in the slightest. he WILL be bussed off to that think tank. he’s put his mind to it and by god is he going to accomplish it. oh weird his apartment lights are on-

GOVERNMENT PEOPLE JUMPSCARE

love the guy on the left’s face like yeah. we broke into your apartment. we’re the government. we can do that

also his apartment isn’t even that bad. look how much floor space is clear! plenty of room to roam still, no problem (the bar is low.) (please ignore the giant death ray)

also he still has the stuff on his walls in 1985! the cat clock, the sax, the giant taxidermy fish

the guy in the back turns around OPPENHEIMER??? what are you doing here…. (we know what he’s doing here) (bomb)

they’re like yeah we knew it wasn’t your house this whole time. we respect the hustle. you’re with us now you’re now officially part of the manhattan project! doc says this is cause for celebration and he pulls out:

THE JELLO.

the mushroom really is perplexing. free my man

and that’s the end actually! i thought it would be longer, i’m surprised there isn’t more. looking at the page count this checks out though.

doc being so eager to get into the project is like.

(he doesn’t know.)

not much on the bingo front today. i assume he got his landlady���s permission to use her house but he also could’ve not so it’s a toss-up to if the square is filled

i’m sure this will be cleared up in a later issue (and by that i mean he’s definitely committing another, more clearly defined crime)

well, we found our good scientist! next on kit reads a comic: the government breaks into doc’s house again.

[bobohu4eva]

Ecstasy

Part 5 - Psycho

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun Feat. Chanyeol

Genre: Soloist AU, smut, angst, fluff

WC: 5.4k

Tag List: @nana-banana @xzyxbbh @iluvybs @greasywall @endzii23 @scopoliax @silent-potato23-blog @baekyeonoreo

Warnings for this chapter: explicit smut, fuckin while on drugs (LSD), drug use and its consequences

A/N: In case everyone hasn't already forgotten about this series because I suck horrendously at updating! Sorry! This is also most definitely the most intense thing I have ever written! There's a reason it took me so goddamn long lol hopefully I can be a little more consistent from now on

Masterlist

Addiction (noun): Disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences

“When’s your next day off?” 

He sent her the text a few days after their last night together, a whole day already planned for them in his mind. He just had to figure out how he’d make it happen.

She eagerly let him know, and he told her he’d be picking her up that morning, surprisingly early, but she didn’t question it, she was getting to see him, after all. And from what it sounded like, she’d get him all to herself, all day, at his lavish penthouse. 

Baekhyun once again insisted on keeping his plans for them secret, so when that morning arrived and he picked her up, she had no idea what she was in store for. However the last time he’d refused to tell her his plans they ended up getting high, and she had a hunch that it might be something similar. 

“Are you finally gonna tell me what we’re doing today?” She asked him once he’d started driving, this time showing up in a different car, a silver convertible Porsche. 

‘Hmmm.. No, but I’ll show you once we get to my place. The last surprise was fun though, wasn't it?” 

He took his eyes off the road for a second to look over at her, his taunting smile daring her to disagree with him, but knowing she wouldn’t dare. 

“So more drugs?” 

He grimaced, “sounds bad when you say it like that.” 

“Am I wrong though?” 

“If I tell you that would ruin the surprise.” 

She just laughed and rolled her eyes, deciding to wait until she had more details to really judge. 

“You’ve been working all week right? Any more run-ins with Mr Kim?” 

As soon as he said it, her eyes went to his arm. Now that he was wearing a t-shirt, she could clearly make out the mark from the cigarette, the burn still not completely healed, and even then, it looked like it might scar. 

“I should be the one asking you that, you know.” 

She saw him glance down at his arm too. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

“No, I likely won’t see him again for a while, thank god.” She frowned, still disappointed that he was so reluctant to talk about it. “What about you though? Do you work with him a lot?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah.” He still looked uncomfortably serious, but he perked up in less than a second as he pulled into the garage of his building. “But that’s just showbiz baby.” 

He was so nonchalant about it, and left no room for her to protest, so she simply allowed him to lead her up to his beautiful apartment once again. 

She hadn’t given too much thought as to what drugs Baekhyun had planned for them to take that day, pretty much assuming that it would be mushrooms again, or maybe some weed or molly. But after digging around a bit in one of his kitchen drawers, he pulled out an envelope containing a small piece of colorful paper, with perforated lines criss-crossing it, dividing it into smaller pieces still. She’s never seen it in person before, but quickly recognized it as LSD. 

Just like the time before, he saw the hesitance on her face. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Last time everything ended up fine, and we had a great time, didn’t we?” 

“I know we did, but this is different isn’t it? I really don’t want it to be too much or something and start freaking out.” 

He sighed, setting the envelope back down on the counter and coming to her, leaning in for a quick kiss. “It’s just the two of us here, no interruptions, no obligations, just you, and me. I won’t let anything bad happen. If you start to feel overwhelmed, just tell me and I’ll do whatever it is you need me to to help you calm back down. That day at Chanyeol's house was the most… at peace, I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve been thinking a lot about that day, and what we talked about, that’s why I want to try this with you.” 

“You haven’t done this before either?”

“No, I have, but it’s been a while, I don’t remember much of it.” 

“Why don’t you remember it?” 

“It's a long story, but I don’t remember much from that time of my life in general.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing, she looked uncomfortable again. 

“Y/n, sweetheart.” He cooed, and her eyes met his, feeling his warm hands intertwining with her own. “You don’t have to do anything, and I don’t want to pressure you, this is just something I’ve had on my mind lately. I still want to get to know you better.” 

“Is it not possible to do that without getting high?” 

“Of course it is, but you know what I mean.” 

She thought back to the day they'd had out at Chanyeol’s house, and she understood what he was saying. “Okay maybe.” 

“So what do you say, hm?” His hands ran down her shoulders, then her arms, eyes never leaving hers. The slight tilt of his head and the way he looked at her with his best puppy eyes ruined any ability she might’ve had to reason with herself.

“Alright, if you’re sure it’s a good idea.” 

He grinned, and finally he was kissing her, really kissing her, not like the little peck from earlier. His tongue slipped past her lips, and his hand held her face to his own. It didn’t take long for her to start feeling weak in the knees. 

As he pulled away he turned to the counter, grabbing the envelope again. He tore off two of the little squares of paper, placing one on his own tongue, and the other on hers. 

“What now?”

He shrugged, “It'll start to kick in in about an hour, have you eaten? I can order us something, or see what I have here.” 

They ended up making breakfast together, and she was surprised by how sweet he was being to her, even more so than usual. It didn't just feel like the usual flirtation that went on with him. Despite not being much of a cook himself, he did his best to help out, and the way he rested his chin on her shoulder, singing softly in her ear as she stood in front of the stove, made her heart flutter. When she was done he thanked her, and told her time and time again how great the meal was. 

By the time they were done eating, she realized she was starting to feel the effects of the drug. Colors were becoming more vibrant, and patterns would start to move if she looked at them for long enough. It wasn't entirely dissimilar from the mushrooms, but it was definitely still different, especially the way her body felt. 

Baekhyun must've noticed the way she was staring off at things, or just the unusually large size of her pupils, since he asked, “how are you feeling?” 

“I'm not sure.. kind of weird.” 

“Come here.” 

He led her to the big cozy looking couch in his living room, facing the windows overlooking the river. He sat down, and she followed suit, resting between his spread legs, leaning her head back on his chest. Some music began to play, and even though they were just sitting there, she felt like her mind was going into overdrive. 

If the mushrooms made her feel heavy, more in touch with nature, LSD was the opposite. She was buzzing, electric, almost. It wasn't unpleasant, but she didn't exactly enjoy it either. 

“Are you okay? Your heart is racing.” 

She wouldn't have even realized it if he hadn't brought it up, but he was right. 

“I.. don't know.” 

“Y/n, baby.” 

She turned around, until she was basically laying on top of him on the couch, facing him. 

His pupils somehow grew even larger when her eyes met his, and for a good minute, neither of them could look away. The rest of his face looked just as inviting. His skin smooth and sunkissed, pretty features in perfect harmony. And then there were his lips. Soft, pink, asking to be kissed. Eventually she gave into the temptation, and their lips collided. 

That was a feeling she had not been prepared for, even in the slightest. 

It was like the excitement of kissing him for the very first time, that night at the club, had come rushing back tenfold.

It was he who eventually pulled away, still looking at her with a bit of concern. “You're shaking.” 

He took one of her hands that had been resting on his chest into his own, further confirming his previous words. 

“Did that not feel crazy for you too?” 

The way she looked at him, eyes wide, panting and shaking at the intensity of it, made his chest swell with pride. Any concern he showed quickly melted away as he grinned back at her. “Kiss me again.”

He didn't have to ask twice. She pressed her lips to his without hesitation, moaning into the feeling as waves of euphoria washed over her. 

Baekhyun, too, could feel how much more intense it was, kissing her and touching her with the added excitement the drug offered. The MDMA as well as the mushrooms had given a similar effect, but not nearly to the same degree. 

While the mushrooms had made him sentimental, wanting to hold her, feel the way her chest rose and fell in sync with his own, the LSD made him ravenous. Sex, while high on mushrooms, didn't even seem possible. The overall heaviness of the body high simply didn't feel sexy, but now he could think of nothing else. 

But Baekhyun knew that they had all day, and was in no rush. For what could've been anything from several minutes to a few hours, the drug blurring time into irrelevance, they simply laid there, lips pressing together again and again, until he pushed his tongue past her lips, smiling into it when she once again moaned at the newfound depth of the kiss. With both hands on her waist he felt the way she continued to shake, overwhelmed by the new sensations. 

Not wanting to overwhelm her too much, and still enjoying the onset of the drug, Baekhyun eventually pulled away, standing up from the couch, with her following. 

He leaned in, forehead resting against hers with a wide grin on his pretty face. “Wanna dance?” 

She smiled back at him and nodded, and soon the room was full of music, something sexy that would make them want to move.

With one hand in his own he twirled her around, placing himself behind her, hands on her hips as they both swayed to the beat. The heat of his chest pressed to her back and his words in her ear as he sang along further heightened how intoxicated she already was. The room around her appeared to melt and shift in a colorful whirlwind, though she didn’t mind it, still more focused on the man behind her than anything else. With the music pulsating through her, his body pressed to hers, she gave into it, even tearing up a little as she kept moving her body. This was the definition of euphoria, she thought. It simply couldn’t get any better than this, the rush of it all so overwhelming that it moved her to tears.

When she spun around in his arms, attaching her lips to his own, she saw fireworks behind her  eyelids, colorful bursts filling her vision even as her eyes were closed. Every touch of his hands brought waves of delight that surged through her without even an ounce of reluctance. Baekhyun noticed her tears, but he could feel it too, not questioning even for a second if they came from anything but pure happiness. 

She let out a yelp when he momentarily broke away before scooping her up in his arms, and carrying her into the bedroom. 

Baekhyun, too, felt the burning need for more, seeming almost frantic in the way he laid her down, wasting not a single second before slotting himself between her legs. 

He was on fire, his tongue in her mouth, dancing with her own as he tugged on her clothes with a kind of impatience she’d never seen before. He thought he would be able to stay patient, savor the feeling and enjoy her with some restraint, but he now saw how wrong he’d been. With the high at it’s full intensity, he was insatiable, he wanted every piece of her, the craving for more so intense even he began to lose it, hands shaking as he got the clothes off her body. First her shirt, then her pants, and eventually her bra, all thrown haphazardly across the room, no care for anything but the need for more skin. 

She arched into him, pushing her hands past his shirt, her touch against his bare abdomen bringing a gasp from him. After one more heated kiss he sat up, pulling the fabric over his head and fussing with his belt, finally getting that off as well. When he leaned back in, he didn’t kiss her, instead, he found himself taking her face in his hand, staring. 

“So beautiful… You make me feel so fucking crazy, you have no idea.” 

His eyes kept scanning her face, taking her in all he could, the way his words made her lip quiver, the blush on her cheeks, it was all perfection, the high adding an aura of effervescence. To him, she was glimmering, sparkling. 

“You’ve been making me crazy ever since I met you.” She answered, knowing she was just as insane for him. 

His lips pressed themselves to hers, this time though, something felt different to him. He felt himself almost start to tear up, though he fought it off, not wanting her to see the way it all overwhelmed him, too. The emotions roared to a new peak, making him sentimental, kissing her deeper, in love with the way her hands on his back pressed him further into her, never wanting her warmth to leave him, not then, not ever, as far as he was concerned. 

“You’re mine, baby, mine.” 

The words were pressed into the side of her neck between kisses, and when her voice failed her, all she could do was nod. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

She tried to get it out, she really did, but when his fingers briefly met the waistband of her underwear the words got caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. 

He moved slowly, hungry lips making their way down her neck, spending some time nipping at the sensitive area near her collarbone, before finally giving attention to her bare chest. His hands too squeezed and pinched at the sensitive skin where his lips couldn’t reach, and the sounds she made were music to his ears, though he still wanted to hear those words more than anything else. 

“Fuck, say it, please.” 

“I’m yours.” 

By that point the onslaught of emotion had completely overpowered her, simply giving into the way he touched her, too far gone to even think, making it near impossible to form words. It was all like a dream, his touch combined with the high whisking her away to another plane of existence, one where she could do little more than lay back, shaking, gasping, taking in the waves of pleasure that came her way. The weight of him between her thighs and his mouth and fingers as they teased her nipples felt like heaven and hell all at once, both divine and almost frighteningly tempting. He could see it in the way she looked up at him, eyes glazed over, nothing behind them but desire, a deep yearning for more, even if she couldn’t express it, the intensity rendering her speechless. 

In the back of her mind she realized the staggering difference between how he acted then compared to every other time they'd been in bed together. She felt the urgency in the way he touched her, hands that were usually so steady, so confident, now shaking, along with his unsteady breaths. Never before had he voiced such possessiveness either, though it didn't feel out of place in the slightest. She knew she belonged to him, no other man would ever be able to compare. He was so exhilarating, she felt that the piece of paper she'd had was nothing, the real drug was him. 

She was already out of her mind, and his hand had yet to venture between her legs. With his mouth still on her chest, kissing and nibbling and sucking at the soft curves, he slowly began to venture south, each kiss on her stomach adding more fuel to the fire within her. When his fingers finally hooked themselves into the waistband, slowly pulling the last piece of clothing off her body, a loud moan fell from her lips. She lay there underneath him, panting, mind in a whirlwind, completely exposed, waiting for more. 

Baekhyun was eager to deliver. His mouth went straight in, licking up the wetness he’d coaxed from her thus far, the feeling of his tongue incessantly flicking her clit making her hips push against his face, pleading with him for more. The taste made him groan, vibrations coursing through her, his lips and tongue bringing her close to release quicker than she knew possible. From the very first touch she’s already lost control, twitching and nearly screaming at the strength of her own desire. It was all too much, the tension leaving her helpless to his touch, fingers in his hair as she came on his tongue in mere minutes. 

The orgasm washed over her like a rushing waterfall, knocking any rational thought from her mind as she shook and gasped. It was a new experience completely, the added rush of her high bending her mind into an unfamiliar torrent of pleasure. Finally prying her eyes open to look down at him between her legs, the smirk present on his wet lips was pure eroticism, his handsome face a work of art. The onslaught of her high had been so paralyzing she hadn’t even noticed the substantial volume of her moans, not until Baekhyun commented, 

“My baby can’t help being loud for me, hm?” 

A whine escaped her, anticipation building even further as Baekhyun stripped off the last of his clothes. He reclaimed his place between her thighs, looking down at her flushed face, basking in the warmth of the moment as they both stared, entranced. The beads of sweat on his face appeared more like precious pearls, lips a soft pink pillow, eyes of deep chocolate brown, baiting her to get lost. Even with the way the drug made everything shift and twist about, he stayed still, shining, glowing, illuminating her entire world. 

He leaned in, kissing her with an unexpected tenderness, soft lips moving with hers gently, almost carefully. When he pulled back his forehead rested against her own, eyes fixed on hers. 

“Do you want more?”

She nodded without any hesitation, and the smile on his handsome face was enough for more butterflies to erupt within her. By that point she was dripping, throbbing, wanting nothing more than to finally feel him inside. 

“Can you say it for me?” 

“Please, Baekhyun. I want - I need- more. Fuck, please.” 

Her eyes were filled with greed and impatience as she watched him grab the packet from the nightstand and roll a condom onto himself, wondering how he was still able to keep it together enough to even consider such a thing. The room continued to dance and shift about in a dream like kaleidoscope as he moved himself over her again, both an anchor and a source of even greater insanity to her. 

When she felt him finally push inside, it was like she was experiencing it for the very first time. Now chest to chest, fully flush, surrounded by him completely, she felt herself break. The tears were back, and with every push of his hips into her, sparks filled her distorted vision. She tried to look up at him, but her eyes felt heavy, unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of him above her, and inside her. 

Baekhyun was no better off. The drug amplified everything to such a degree that he too found himself letting go of any restraint, letting the high take him wherever it so pleased. His moans, and the ever increasing cadence of his thrusts told her just how affected he was, too. She began to move with him, rolling her body into his more or less involuntarily, just wanting to feel more of him, and he did all he could to deliver. 

When his eyes finally met hers again, his thumb moved to wipe away the tears, though they only communicated to him her immense and paralyzing delight. The way she looked up at him encouraged him further, his hips hitting her more deeply, savoring the feeling every time he entered her, again and again. 

The drug had overpowered her senses so entirely, that the lines, the boundary between herself and him began to fade into obscurity, she was a part of him, and he, a part of her. She sensed his pleasure, and felt it in her own body, the same way she knew he felt her, too. They melted together, the high and the closeness of being so intimately connected merging them into one. 

Every time he filled her, she felt him brush against that delicious spot deep inside that made her tremble. He was perfection, beyond perfection, even. Having him there with her, enjoying her as she enjoyed him, whisked them away to a different form of reality. Their shared altered consciousness made it all so much heavier, more real than any sexual experience they could have while sober. This was how it was always supposed to be, they were both sure of it. 

His hand clutching her face brought her eyes back to his, whimpering at his intense gaze. 

“Who do you belong to, baby?” 

“You.” She replied weakly, barely able to get the word out. 

“Say it again.”

“You- Baekhyun, oh my god.” 

Her words stirred up a whirlwind inside him, his lips latching themselves onto the spot on her neck that made her weakest. The pace of his thrusts picked up even more, and she felt her whole body start to tingle, starting from the tips of her toes moving up her body in waves, until she was consumed by it, and again, she fell. 

This orgasm was somehow even better than the last, leaving her shaking, gasping, seemingly tearing apart every atom in her body, and then putting her back together again. Her vision went white, arching, twitching, moaning and completely out of her damn mind as he kept fucking her through it, until he too reached his peak. 

When it happened for him, he kissed her with such force, such passion, that she couldn’t breathe, though she didn’t feel she needed to anyway. His affection felt more crucial than oxygen, happily accepting his lips as she floated slowly back to her altered state of reality. 

They both lay in the aftermath of the near religious experience they just shared, sweating, panting, still pressed to each other as they recovered from the profoundly overpowering encounter that the drug turned their passion into.

Even after several minutes had passed, she was still dizzy, still unable to come to terms with how incredible Baekhyun had just made her feel. 

“I love you.” She whispered, thoughtless, the otherworldly memory of it all and his possessive words drifting through her mind. For a while, he didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect him to. It didn’t feel like some sort of big confession, just what the drug and the height of the moment naturally pulled from her lips. 

“I..” he paused, becoming tense, eyes digging into her own. “What?” 

The harsh change in his tone snapped her back to reality, and she realized her mistake. 

“No- shit, I didn’t mean that-”

“What the fuck did you just say?” He said, sitting up, eyes squeezed shut with a pained expression now on his face. 

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out in the moment.” She looked at him, worry turning to panic as the look on his face slowly turned into one of anger. 

“Get out.” 

“What?” 

“Get out.” He said again, this time raising his voice, eyes still shut, refusing to look at her. 

She started to sit up, tears welling in her eyes, though this time they didn’t come from a good place at all. 

“But, you said you wouldn’t let anything bad happen, I’m sorry, I just- I-” 

When he finally did meet her eyes, they were hard and mean, not softening at all even at the sight of her tears. 

“You can’t be here anymore. Get your shit and get the fuck out.” 

“Baekhyun, please, I can't just leave, I'm sorry, really. Please.” She begged, but he wasn't having any of it.

“I said get the fuck out of my apartment. Right fucking now.” 

She'd never seen that look on his face before, her shock and upset morphing into fear. 

With that she got up, stumbling as she gathered her clothes, leaving his room in a disoriented haze as she got herself dressed, crying harder and harder as the seconds ticked by. The bright colors had turned dark and dull and the patterns that before swirled around so beautifully turned sharp, frightening in their unpredictability. She was delirious as she passed the threshold to his apartment, the hallway seeming to close in on her as she struggled toward the elevator. Luckily nobody saw her as she left the building, eventually collapsing onto a nearby bench under the midday sun, surrounded by the bustling city. 

As her eyes squeezed shut she only saw his face, twisted in anger as he told her to leave. It haunted her, though she didn’t want to face the city either, the cacophony of cars and other people entirely too much to handle. She had to get home, and with no other real option, she pulled out her phone, struggling with it for a minute before finally managing to call her best friend. 

“Suhyun?” 

“Hi! I thought you were gonna be with Baekhyun all day, is everything all right?” 

“No…” she said, voice shaking, and even from over the phone Suhyun could tell that something was very wrong. 

“Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?” 

“I- I don't know, I need you to come get me.” 

“Where are you?” 

“I don't know, I'm sitting in front of his building, he kicked me out.” 

“He did what? You sound weird, what's going on?” 

“He gave me drugs, I don't know what to do, I can barely use my phone, I can't take the subway, you have to come get me.” 

Suhyun had known her friend long enough to know that something awful had happened, and needed to get there as soon as possible. 

“Okay, just stay where you are, I can check your location and come to you, I'll be there as soon as I can.” 

She nodded, and her friend on the phone grew even more worried. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes! I'm on a bench. I won't move. Please hurry.” Her voice unsteady with the onslaught of tears still pouring out of her. 

To make sure her friend was safe, Suhyun stayed on the phone with her until she pulled up, pulling her into the car before making her way towards her friend's apartment. 

She was crying quietly to herself in the passenger seat, trying to focus on what was going on outside the window, but still ending up squeezing her eyes shut again and again, seeing his face glaring back at her, making her heart sting every time. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

Finally she looked over at Suhyun, and she saw in her eyes that she wasn't in her normal state of mind, growing more and more worried by the minute. 

She just shook her head, too overwhelmed to get a word out as the sobs ran through her. 

The day had been so perfect, and because of a few little words he'd seemingly snapped, becoming a completely different person. The harshness with which he'd told her to get out kept replaying, she couldn't escape no matter how hard she tried. His face and his words had etched themselves into her mind, the drug making it all so much more horrible.  

They eventually reached her apartment, and Suhyun tucked her into bed, holding her, asking once again, “what happened?” 

“He wanted to do LSD together,” she eventually choked out “and we- we had sex, and I felt so insane after, I said I love you to him, just because of how crazy it all felt, and he lost it, and yelled at me that I had to get out.”

“He kicked you out of his apartment knowing you were on drugs?” 

She nodded. 

“Are you still really high? How bad is it? ”

“I could barely work my phone to call you. All I can see when I close my eyes is his face when he yelled at me to get out but when they're open everything is moving and looks like it's about to attack me. It's awful, I just want this to stop already.” 

Suhyun stroked her hair as she cried, comforting her, but was growing more and more angry as well. She decided it would be best to take her phone for a while, worried Baekhyun would try to contact her and make things even worse. She took it from where her friend had discarded it on the bed, sliding it into her pocket. 

She stayed like that for hours, just keeping her friend company, talking to her, doing her best to reassure her, seeing the way pain and fear consumed her. When she felt the phone start to vibrate she made an excuse to leave the room, and sure enough, it was him. 

“Y/n, I'm so-”

“This is her friend. She can't talk to you right now.” 

“I need to talk to her, give her her phone back.” She could hear the desperation in his voice, but she didn't care.

“No. She's fucking wrecked because of you. You threw her out onto the street while she was high out of her goddamn mind. She could've gotten arrested for Christ's sake, all because of your selfish bullshit. If you care about her even in the slightest, and genuinely want what's best for her, you're going to leave her alone. For good. She doesn't need you to fuck up her life even more.” 

“Please-” 

“Goodbye.”

Suhyun ended the call, cutting him off. When he called again and again, she put the phone on mute, deleting every trace of his trying to contact her. The last thing her friend needed was more of him. 

At home in his apartment, Baekhyun cursed himself, nearly throwing the phone into a wall. Unbeknownst to both of the girls, he wasn’t much better off. 

Those three words had set something off inside him. His high took an awful turn as he watched her leave the apartment, overcome with anger, but mostly, fear. When he called and couldn’t get through to her, it got even worse. Suhyun’s warning to stay away frustrated him beyond belief, but as much as he wanted to talk to her, he had no clue what he would even say, he couldn’t even understand his own feelings. 

The guilt and confusion turned the rest of his day into a living nightmare, hoping that he’d somehow still be able to win her back. However as the hours passed, he did come to a realization. 

It wasn’t her words that had caused him to suddenly become so agitated, it was the fact that he’d almost said it back.

Next Chapter

[anonymous-dentist]

War is hell, so Bad feels right at home every time he steps onto the battlefield and pulls out his sword and watches the humans run for their tiny little insignificant lives. He isn’t a monster, so he only kills them when he needs to. (Who is he, Foolish?)

Some of the humans have started teaming up. The strong with the strong, the weak huddling with the weak. It’s pointless when they die, because everyone is alone in the End, but it’s the thought that counts.

Bad himself played solo for a long time, but now he’s managed to get himself a human teammate of his own. A… weird little ragamuffin of a teammate.

“Hey, Bad!”

Bad looks up from his soup to see Candy waving some guy’s arm around like it’s his own, a big toothy grin on his muddy little face.

Bad waves back. “C’mere, dinner’s ready!”

Candy grimaces, but he brings himself and his arm over to the fire, and he picks up the bowl of mushroom soup, and he digs in.

Candy is a strange child.

He’s a cannibal, for one, which is apparently rare among humans; when Bad picked him up, Candy had been blacklisted from most of the other teams because he kept eating his teammates. (Which is crazy, because a growing boy needs to eat!) Sometimes Bad will wake up in the middle of the night to someone gnawing on his arm, but that’s fine, whatever flesh he may lose will just grow back. As long as Candy isn’t starving, he’s useful.

And then there’s the whole amnesiac thing. Because, apparently, Candy was dropped into the war from a literal helicopter, and he doesn’t even know his own name, let alone the guys that deposited him. He knows how to kill, though, so he isn’t all that useless.

He’s called Candy because Bad calls him that. He says he doesn’t have a name, but he’s fine with having a nickname for Bad to call out in the heat of battle. He’s named Candy because, well, he likes candy. It’s the one thing he likes to eat besides human flesh, and Bad can’t exactly call a human child “Flesh”. That would be weird.

Candy shivers in the night wind and pulls his flimsy little coat tighter around his shoulders.

With a sigh, Bad pulls his cloak off and drops it on top of Candy’s head; Candy shouts, but he wiggles the cloak down around his shoulders, practically swimming in it.

(Candy is so small, it’s hard to believe he’s fifteen. Between the supposed white helicopter that brought him to war and the amnesia and the burn scars on his temples, Bad has an idea as to what happened, but, honestly, he doesn’t care. Really. Because Candy is going to die any day now, and he’ll be much happier in the afterlife.)

“I’ve been thinking,” says Candy.

Bad gasps dramatically. “Really?”

Candy ignores him: “When I get out of here, I wanna be a detective.”

And isn’t that a thought, escaping the war? Of course, Bad can leave at any time. But the humans like Candy are trapped.

(Occasionally, Bad has thought about leaving and bringing Candy with him to start training as his replacement, but the kid isn’t quite Grim Reaper material beyond being astonishingly good at killing people.)

“What, so you can find your family?” Bad asks.

Candy shakes his head. “I want to find the helicopter. I want to kill them.”

“Oooh, good idea! When you do, send me pictures!”

“Duh,” Candy scoffs. He points his spoon at Bad with a roll of the eyes all the attitude of a human teenager. “But you’re actually coming with me, sooooo….”

Bad raises an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Candy nods. “Yeah! We’re teammates! You have to be there!”

With that fire in his eyes and the blood still crusting his lips and fingers, it’s easy to see why this kid is one of the most feared soldiers out there. It’s why Bad has kept him so long. (He definitely isn’t attached, shhh!)

So Bad nods, playing along. “Sure, sure.”

Because, really, Candy is going to be dead soon. Call it a gut feeling. Nobody Bad has ever gotten along with has survived this long, so the poor kid is going to die in a few days. The war is going to take him like it’s taken so many others, and there’s nothing Bad can do about it.

And, four days later when they get separated in a battle, Bad doesn’t bother looking for him when the bodies are all on the floor. Candy isn’t among them, but he’s probably off dying in a ditch somewhere else.

Bad flicks the blood off his sword and stalks into the night in search of his next victory, not noticing two tear-filled, terrified blue eyes following him until he’s out of sight.

(And eleven years later when Bad sees Cellbit in the ruins of a crashed cargo ship, and when Cellbit notices him and immediately bursts into a huge grin, Bad almost wonders if he’s managed to break the curse after all.)

[rotatesmymindscape]

SNIPPET FROM MY POST-SPM LUIGI FIC (TITLE PENDING)

Finally, context for this drawing

aka, Luigi doesn't 100% remember the events of spm and is Very Stressed About This

EDIT: Another snippet!

-----

Luigi is fine. Really, he is.

He’s fine and he’s poking a sweet cookie that was placed on his plate to remove a little weight from the dangerously-close-to-toppling tower of cookies it came from.

When Merlon said he had snacks prepared for them, he didn't think he meant this much. Plates of cookies, chocolate pasta, hot dogs, fried mushrooms, about three different kinds of cake and two kinds of tarts, parfaits, and pitchers of tea and syrup were all laid out for them to feast on. Luigi doubts they can finish even half of it, despite their party of eight.

“Eat as much as you please.” The lady – Saffron? He didn't get much time to meet anyone in the Flipside– says as she places a steaming hot bowl of spicy soup at the table’s center, “All of you must be starving after an adventure like that!”

Mario is already reaching over to grab another plateful of mushrooms but smiles back at her before continuing. Peach holds her slice of heartful cake and hums as she eats. Bowser shrugs before devouring half of a horsetail tart.

Bleck’s minions seemed to be doing the same, though O’Chunks and Mimi argued over a forkful of pasta even with the abundance of it. Nastasia was quiet, but she nodded, sipping her tea and relaxing afterwards.

On any other occasion, Luigi might have felt like he was having a nice family dinner night.

Merlon lets out a hearty laugh, “I'm sure they are, Saffron my dear. Isn't that right, Luigi?”

Luigi blinks.

He looks at Merlon, then slowly back at his cookie.

Gingerly, he picks it up, nibbling the corner of it. It’s buttery and not too sweet, crispy around the edges but still a little soft in the center. It’s perfect. He should be reveling in the flavor, he should be telling Saffron it’s the best cookie he’s ever had, he should be grabbing ten more and hauling another dozen home for him and Mario to share.

He places it back on his plate, which remained empty save for it.

“…maybe just a little.” He decides after a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“Is it not to your liking?”

He shakes his head, “It’s good. I’m just…”

From Luigi’s perspective, the story goes something like this: He’s at home with Mario until he’s not; he’s at Bowser’s castle and at Bowser’s “wedding” until he isn’t; he’s in another castle trying to escape until he doesn’t; he’s presumably dead but whether that really happened or not is a mystery, and now all of reality is saved, two people go disappear forever, and everyone who remained is here eating snacks.

Okay, so there's a few things he blearily remembers in between, like their journey to the Overthere and his fight with Dimentio, but the rest is just about lost to the slurry of his addled mind.

From the way he’s been dragged around, it’s all lasted maybe a few days for him at most. For everyone else, it seemed closer to a month based on their discussions between forkfuls. That definitely knocked him off kilter.

And, well, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge that in those final moments, he was aware of being mind-controlled. He remembers being fused with the same heart he tried to destroy and a jester who just finished trying to kill him, and he remembers how it felt when he couldn’t control himself as he tried to hurt everyone else.

The worst part, really, is that he knows he hurt them. He knows something bad happened, that he became something willing to decimate everything in its path, but what exactly happened and what exactly he became was completely lost to him.

He was somehow aware and not at the same time, as if a part of him kept shutting off his memory right before the most important parts, leaving him with nothing but brief visions of his attempts to kill his companions.

It’s not much, but whatever is there for him to recall is gut churning enough that he’s been avoiding making any effort to interact with any of them.

He tries his best to ignore the way Bowser only uses one arm to eat everything, vaguely recalling the way he fell when a homing attack hit him while he scaled the floating blocks, arms flailing as he tried to protect the rest of his body from further injury.

He can’t look Peach in the eye when she glances at him, her normally clean dress ripped to shreds in some spots, revealing a few hastily bandaged cuts from when the small yet sharp spinning blocks sliced through her.

And he certainly does not want to think about how heavily bruised Mario’s face is on one side, which came from his new form connecting its fist with his brother. The left side of his face was nothing but an angry red that made Luigi wince just thinking about it.

If things had gone just a bit wrong, a lot of people, especially some of the ones he loves most in the world, could be long dead.

The cookie slips from his hand and falls back to his plate with a clink!

Forget being a little hungry, he’s not hungry at all.

They all turn to look at him as he pushes his chair back with enough force to make it screech like fingers across a chalkboard. He grits his teeth from it.

“Is everything alright, Luigi?” Peach asks, placing her plate back on the table, eyebrows furrowed.

He could barely process the way his hands shook and his body stayed ramrod straight. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“…Yeah. O-Okey-dokey.” He feels sweat beginning to form on his face, “I’m not hungry. So, I’m…I’ll go for a walk instead.”

Merlon, even with his beard and hood covering most of his, is able to mimic Peach's look of concern, “Are you sure? I assume you haven’t eaten much these past few days.”

Luigi nods, but it feels more like his head just shook up and down violently, “I, ah, feel a little dizzy from…all of everything. Fresh air sounds good.”

He can’t think of more excuses to make, so he hurries out the door before anyone can protest.

When the door closes (slams) behind him, he lets out a sigh. Not the most elegant exit, but it will do. He suddenly feels like he’s gone and drank too much coffee, all jittery and nervous like he’s moments away from a caffeine crash. He needs to burn it off, take a few breaths, and avoid eye contact until he feels less inclined to run away.

His memory fails to supply the reason as to why he’s so riled up. While hurting the people he cares for is enough to make him faint from horror, something about his reaction was…even worse. He was forgetting more important incidents that made his nerves taut and his throat shut.

There were a few unexplained injuries on himself that might clue him in on those incidents. A minor electrical burn and a laceration on his hand that he, distantly, knew once had a few glass shards embedded in it were on their way to healing. A couple of rusty screws and a broken screwdriver were in his pocket when he woke up in the Underwhere, so he might have been tinkering with something electric?

There’s also the burns here and there on his body, all still too fresh to not be less than a day old. He can’t even begin to guess where those came from.

And his head ached much more than some of the worse migraines he’s ever had. It was like someone grabbed a hammer, hit him with it, and only made sure to stop short of cracking it open.

To top it all off, his legs faintly felt like there were pins and needles, too.

He’s been tired before. Exhausted, even. But whatever happened in that barely remembered month has left his system in all kinds of wack. He dreads to think about what could have happened to him.

His moment of stress-filled contemplation is broken by the sound of Saffron’s door opening. He already knows who it is, and as relieved as he is to know he’s okay, he really doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

Mario is quiet as he pushes the door shut, a bag full of cookies held in one hand. He offers Luigi a small smile.

“For you.” Mario says, waving the bag in front of Luigi, “You can go on your walk, but I’m sure you’ll be hungry.”

Luigi shakes his head, “No need, bro. I’m really not.”

His older brother frowns, and Luigi feels the guilt make his chest twinge, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Beats me.” Luigi answers almost instantly. With how little he remembers, he couldn’t tell if he ever ate during any of it. He grimaces when he sees Mario’s frown deepen. That was definitely not the answer his brother was hoping to hear.

“Maybe I should ask Saffron to make something other than snacks…” Mario contemplates.

Luigi reaches for Mario’s arm, maybe to push the bag back to him or to hang it, but his second of contact makes Mario retract his arm so quickly that Luigi flinches.

Mario lightly rests his free arm on top of his other arm, snapping his eyes shut as he hisses in pain.

Something cracks, another murky memory resurfaces - darkness, a heavy swing, a violent crack - and then something horrific clicks.

Luigi holds back the urge to scream it out loud.

The bruises aren’t just on his face. The hit connected with Mario's entire body.

Now much closer to each other, he can’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it must be for Mario to smile at him when most of his face and body must be aching something fierce.

He should be fussing over Mario and making sure he’s okay, Luigi thinks to himself, just like Mario would for him.

He takes a step back, and then another, and then another one. Mario opens his eyes and Grambi he looks so worried.

Luigi’s voice breaks, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“Luigi, it’s–”

Luigi turns around, and runs away.

The bag of cookies, now on the ground, was left forgotten.

[skyward-floored]

The cat’s out of the bag chapter 5

Even more plot, but mixed in with kitty things and dumb conversations aplenty <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/144519979

Chapter 4 | Next

————————————————————

Wind fell asleep sometime while he rode on Twilight’s shoulder, the rancher’s steady gait lulling him to sleep. He didn’t wake up until sometime in the afternoon, stomach rumbling, and twitched his nose as he caught a whiff of something... tasty.

Wind looked around with a yawn, and realized the others were eating lunch on the road while they followed Sky’s tracks. Wild was handing out fruit and some skewers, and Wind recognized them as leftovers from a meal they’d had the other night. His stomach growled again as he watched Wild take a bite, and he shifted up into a sitting position in Twilight’s shoulder.

That... smelled really good.

Twilight obviously heard the growling, and passed Wind some chunks of meat with a smile. Wind happily chomped them up, unable to stop himself from licking Twilight’s fingers as well.

Twilight chuckled a little as he finished, and Wind gave his fingers a light nip in response, still just a little annoyed at the rancher for earlier. Twilight wasn’t fazed by the nip in the slightest though, and he gave Wind’s ears a scratch as they continued onward, Wind settling down with a small twitch of his tail.

Having rested for a while, and his stomach pleasantly full of meat, Wind felt a lot more energetic again. He barely even felt sore anymore, just a little twinge in his feet, but he knew Twilight probably wouldn’t be willing to let him walk around by himself.

...Even though the ground was sloping more downward again. And it looked a lot less treacherous then it had before.

And also had way less rocks.

But whatever.

Wind had agreed to being carried if he got tired, so he would hold to that, even if he would rather be walking around by himself.

...though he hadn’t said who he would ride on when he made the agreement.

Wind looked around the group for a minute, weighing pros and cons, then picked out his first target. Time was conveniently walking right beside Twilight, and Wind waited for him to draw closer, watching carefully. Then he slunk across the small gap between him and the rancher, relying on the surprisingly good sense of balance his cat body possessed.

Time welcomed him with a smile, and Wind sat perched on his shoulder with a pleased purr rumbling from his throat. Sure he was a cat, but he was riding on the Hero of Time’s shoulder. This was awesome!

...Unfortunately, Time’s armor was really hard and uncomfortable, and Wind’s claws couldn’t grip them at all.

After nearly falling off three separate times, Time having to grab him on one of them, Wind reluctantly admitted defeat. He decided he’d try Four’s shoulders next, since he was also nearby, and he always got along well with the smithy. But he only ended up staying there a moment, since Four tensed the moment his paws touched his shoulders. Four was too small to really sit on properly anyway, not without Wind draping himself around his neck, so Wind moved on to Wild.

Except Wild moved around an awful lot, gesturing widely when he talked and crouching down to check random grasses and mushrooms and just generally forgot he had a passenger. Despite Wind’s good balance, made better with cat reflexes, it was impossible to hang on.

Wind stayed there a little longer then Four since Wild was fun to be around, but soon enough the uncertain motion was too much, and he debated who to jump over to next.

Let’s see... Hyrule and Legend are busy... Sky isn’t here... that leaves...

Wind looked over to where Warriors was walking slightly ahead of Wild, and the Captain smiled when he saw him looking at him. Wind stepped over to his shoulders when he drew alongside Wild, and greeted Warriors with a squeak.

“Hey kid, how’re you doing?” Warriors said as he brushed some stray dirt off of Wind.

Wind meowed a fine in response, and busied himself with finding the best spot to sit. Warriors had a bit of armor, but not nearly to the extent that Time did, and his scarf more than made up for it. The threads were nice and soft under his paws, and Wind quickly got himself settled with a purr, pleased with where he’d ended up.

Warriors chuckled and gave his ears a scratch, Wind content to sit with him in silence for a while. He was feeling a bit drowsy again, and the steady sway of Warriors’ shoulder underneath him was really soothing. Maybe another nap wouldn’t be so bad...

“Ouch, hey, ease up there sailor.”

Wind blinked his eyes open, and realized he’d been kneading Warriors’ shoulder with his claws, in a spot his chainmail didn’t reach. He meowed a hurried apology and pulled his claws out of Warriors’ shoulder, making the captain wince.

“You can keep doing it if you really want, just try not to claw my skin off,” Warriors smiled, and Wind nodded, a little embarrassed.

Legend snickered from nearby, and Wind gave him the stink eye before tucking his paws underneath him so he wouldn’t be tempted to knead again. Warriors pointedly moved away from the veteran, and Wind stuck his tongue out at him before they left, ignoring any further laughter. Sheesh. Legend sure seemed awfully amused he was a cat.

Hmph. Well I hope whatever he turned into when this happened to him was just as small and cute as this.

Warriors’ hand rubbed along his head, and Wind quietly purred, appreciating the familiar hair-ruffling motion. If he focused really hard, it almost felt normal.

...Almost.

The idea of another nap floated back through his head, and Wind glanced out at the tracks they were following. Things hadn’t changed much in the few hours since he’d found them, and they’d seen no further signs of Sky. Maybe he could take another nap, and if anything changed, Warriors would probably wake him up.

Wind had resolved to do just that and was curling into a tighter ball when Warriors shifted a little, turning his head to look at him.

“So Wind... that item you touched... it really didn’t hurt you, right?” he asked, eyes full of concern.

Wind shook his head. It had hurt at first, but he really wasn’t in any pain right now. Apart from his slightly sore paws, but that had been the fault of walking, not any magic. He could still feel a faint throb of magic where he’d touched the crystal... but it wasn’t bad.

“That’s good,” Warriors sighed, sounding relieved. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Then he glanced around as if to make sure they were alone, his voice lowering.

“...Twilight is Wolfie, isn’t he?”

Wind jumped a little, his tail puffing up in surprise. Wow that was fast! ...Ha, so much for Twilight keeping it a secret.

“Based on that reaction it looks like I’m right,” Warriors said with a faint smile, and Wind twitched his whiskers. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out. I’d suspected something was up for a while, but all of this confirmed it. You should’ve heard the rancher last night trying to avoid telling us, it was agony.”

“It was pretty suspicious,” Hyrule said in a lowered voice beside them, and Warriors and Wind both looked over at him. “Uh... Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“It’s all right,” Warriors said with a shrug. “I have a funny feeling we’re part of the few that didn’t know. Seems odd he’d keep this a secret...”

Hyrule looked thoughtful as the conversation paused. “Maybe. Magic isn’t always... appreciated, by some people. Especially not the kind that this feels like. Maybe he wasn’t sure what our reactions would be.”

Warriors hummed, eyes narrowing. “That may be true, but it would make sense to reveal it when it came to Wind. Keeping it a secret could have, and could be dangerous for him.”

Dangerous? How is this dangerous? Wind thought in disbelief, looking at his fuzzy little paws. I can’t so much as kill a miniblin like this. And the damage has already been done, it’s not like I can be more of a cat.

Hyrule shrugged at Warriors’ reply. “Maybe. But I think he just didn’t want to. We’ve all got our secrets, and revealing them all willy-nilly just... isn’t...”

Hyrule trailed off as he pulled to a stop, looking up at the trees.

Wind let out a questioning mrrp? as Warriors stopped walking as well, but Hyrule seemed too lost in thought to notice.

“Traveler? What’s wrong?” Warriors asked, and Hyrule looked around, swiveling in a slow circle.

“I think... I think this might be my time,” he said, Wind and Warriors both perking up as he kneeled down and put a hand to the grass.

“Really?” Legend asked from nearby, having noticed them stop. Hyrule nodded as he kept looking around, standing back up.

“Yeah, I... I think so? There’s a forest like this kinda near the coast, which would explain the ocean Twilight and Wind came out by. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Can we look at a map?” Warriors asked.

“Oh. No, I uh... don’t have any maps of my Hyrule,” Hyrule said with an awkward grin. “But if we’re where I think we are, I can lead us around. There aren’t any towns nearby, but I can think of a few places where Sky might’ve ended up.”

“You don’t have any maps?” Legend asked in disbelief, and Hyrule shrugged.

“Not on me. Never needed one. Though I still have some dungeon maps in here, at least I think anyway...”

Wind snickered at Legend’s face as Hyrule began to rummage in his bags, the veteran aghast at the thought of not having a map. The extreme reaction was funny, but he didn’t really get it. He liked maps and all, especially while on land, but you could always find your way by other means, like the stars or sun. Though admittedly, it was helpful to have something to draw on and make notes with.

...Legend would probably scream if he saw the state of some of Wind’s maps.

“...a river not far from here, and Sky’s tracks head in that direction,” Hyrule was saying, and Wind checked back into the conversation. The others had gathered around, and were listening intently to what Hyrule was saying. “And it’s a hotspot for river Zora. Sky is amazing, but it’s a dangerous area. I don’t want him to have to fight all of those by himself.”

“Why would he fight Zora? Are yours hostile to Hylians?” Wild asked in confusion, and Hyrule blinked.

“Yeah? They’re... as hostile as any other monster,” he said, looking at Wild like he had two heads. “Why wouldn’t he fight them?”

Wild bristled. “Zora aren’t monsters, they’re—”

“Whoa, timeline differences, Champ,” Twilight interrupted, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Cool down a bit there.”

“What’s a Zora?” Wind meowed. The name was familiar to him, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Warriors just idly petted him though, not understanding, and Wind grumbled. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Okay, fine. So what’re your Zoras like?” Wild asked, crossing his arms. “Since I’m going to have to assume ours really aren’t similar.”

“River Zora are water monsters, they spit fireballs and try to drag people under,” Hyrule explained, and Legend nodded. “They’re sort of greenish, with these ugly fish faces and red fins. And while I’ve met some friendly monsters before, never one of those. They’re vicious.”

“Well that’s the complete opposite of mine,” Wild said, sounding less offended and more confused. “I mean they can fight, but they’re nothing like monsters, they’re a lot like you or me. Just... fishy. They’re our allies.”

“Friends,” Twilight added.

“I was once engaged to one,” Time said idly.

The conversation stalled, and the other Links stopped and stared over at Time.

“Are you... going to elaborate on that?” Four asked, and Time’s expression flickered with barely-visible amusement as he shook his head.

“Well it obviously fell through, otherwise Malon would be a fish,” Legend said as he scratched at his hat, a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah. Too bad, maybe Twi would have gills,” Wild said with a smile, though there was an odd look in his gaze. Twilight elbowed him with no small force at the jab.

“Not that this isn’t interesting, but can we maybe keep going?!” Wind meowed loudly, catching everyone’s attention. He pointed a paw in the direction of the tracks they were still following. “You guys can walk and talk you know. Remember Sky? Remember the hero-stuck-as-a-cat situation? Let’s go!”

“Someone’s impatient,” Legend snorted, and Wind flattened his ears at him and let out a little hiss. He was seriously going to let Legend have it one of these times.

“He’s right though, back to business. We need to find Sky,” Warriors said, and started walking, the others following. Wind shot one last foul look at Legend, then settled back down on Warriors’s shoulders, tucking his paws in.

The conversation switched to a different topic, and Wind listened in silence. He wished he could contribute, but he was mostly okay with just listening, even if he really missed being able to talk. Especially when Legend and Hyrule started arguing about the benefits of maps, Wild soon getting in on it as well.

Wind sighed as well as a cat could, and settled in to watch and listen.

(...)

Sky’s tracks ended up swerving up and away from the river in the end, a fact that more than one of them were relieved at. Wild seemed mildly disappointed though— he’d seemed curious to see what river Zora were like.

Twilight at least was relieved they weren’t headed towards a definite battle. He was fine with a fight, and if they ended up in one it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but keeping Wind safe and out of the way during a battle? Somehow he just knew the little sailor would end up in trouble.

And yes, he’d promised to take it easy and not be so overprotective. But this was just normal protective. Common sense.

Cats didn’t belong in battles.

A mew caught his ears, and Twilight looked up, gaze settling on Wind. The sailor had left Warriors’s shoulders at some point, and was now settled on Hyrule’s instead, the traveler smiling as he petted him. Hyrule was asking him simple yes and no questions, and Wind seemed to be enjoying the conversation, tail happily swaying as Hyrule walked.

Twilight smiled to himself at the sight, relieved Wind was in a better mood. He’d been so grumpy earlier... Twilight had started to worry. Spirits knew he’d been moody when he’d first been stuck as a wolf, but to see the normally cheerful sailor be in such a mood was strange.

He seemed to be back to his peppy self now though, and Twilight was glad of it.

Twilight felt eyes on the back of his head, and he glanced behind him, locking gazes with Warriors.

The captain had been shooting him funny looks all day, and Twilight had, admittedly, been avoiding him. He knew the Captain was suspicious of his explanation of events, and he knew he really needed to just... admit everything with Wolfie. But it was hard to not let years of being pointed and shrieked at, cursed and spat on, trusting gazes turned scared at the sight of his wolf form taint his view of things.

He still had scars from people he loved. Why should this group be any different?

Twilight rubbed the bridge of his nose, and heard footsteps come up beside him. He tensed, but then Time walked up, giving him a slightly amused look, and Twilight relaxed.

“The Captain is giving you quite the odd face,” he mentioned casually.

Twilight glanced back at Warriors again, then gave a little shrug, unsure of how to respond. Things were silent between him and Time for a moment, and then a hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked over, and saw Time giving him a steady look.

“Rancher. The time for this secret is past,” he said, voice soft enough not to be heard by the others. It was somehow equally gentle and firm. “More of our number is aware of your ability than not; continuing to obscure it will only lead to further strife, and make helping our Sailor more difficult in the long run. It’s still your decision, but I highly suggest you explain.”

His face softened a little.

“They will not hate you for this, pup. They may not approve, but they will not hate you. We all have our secrets.”

Twilight sighed. “I know.”

He knew it was only a matter of time, ever since they’d all joined together, but that didn’t make explaining any easier. And Warriors already seemed so suspicious, Twilight had no clue how he was going to react.

The scar on his back itched.

A noise from in front of him drew his attention, and Twilight looked ahead to see Wind suddenly sit straight up, ears pricked and nose in the air. Hyrule looked over at him in confusion.

“Wind? What’s up?”

Wind twitched his tail, and when Hyrule stopped walking, began to shimmy down his arm. Hyrule crouched so he could easily drop to the ground, and Wind put his nose to the grass, sniffing.

“What’s going on?” Time asked as he and Twilight walked over, and Hyrule shrugged, watching as Wind sniffed around.

“I don’t know. I think he smelled something? That’s what it seems like anyway,” Hyrule said, and they watched as Wind followed the tracks a little further ahead, to the top of a small rise.

“Mrreow!”

Twilight jumped at the sharp meow, and he hurried over to Wind, the sailor’s fur all fluffed up. He looked out at where the land dipped back down again into a small clearing, and Twilight’s stomach clenched as he saw what Wind had found.

The remnants of a battle.

The other Links joined them at the top of the small hill, and went abruptly silent at the sight below.

The grass in the clearing was flattened and burnt, gouges torn in the ground and a few nearby trees. Crushed flowers were dotted around as well, petals trampled and stems snapped, and one small tree near the middle of the area had been entirely knocked over.

But worst of all was the smear of blood Wind was sniffing at, his eyes wide and fearful.

“...That’s not good,” Wild said in a quiet voice, and Twilight immediately crouched down to look at the blood. He couldn’t tell if it was a human’s or a monster’s, but with the way Wind’s fur seemed to only further stick up as he sniffed, he would guess it was the former.

The Links moved down the hill and into the small clearing, hands hovering near weapons as they looked around at the destruction. Twilight stayed kneeled by Wind as the rest of them spread out, studying the carnage, and he gave into the urge to pet the sailor a bit as he looked at the mess.

“Sky definitely fought here,” Warriors said, studying the marks in the grass. “His prints are scattered around.”

“I don’t know that he won, though,” Time said gravely, running a hand along some marks clawed into a tree. “If this destruction is a measure of anything, then...”

“This is Sky we’re talking about, of course he won!” Legend snapped, his boot tapping anxiously.

“...against black blooded monsters though?” Twilight said quietly, looking at a different smear of blood. This one was the familiar black of the infected, and Legend went quiet when he saw it, foot tapping faster.

Wind let out a quiet meow as he finished sniffing, looking up at Twilight. The rancher could see the worry in his eyes had brightened, his ears slightly flat.

Twilight gently scratched his head, unsure of what to say.

“Well... we must be getting close, right?” Four spoke up, breaking the silence. The Links all looked at him. “This blood is fresh, and all this destruction obviously didn’t happen more than a few hours ago. Sky must be somewhere nearby.”

“And he’s almost certainly hurt,” Hyrule said, glancing at the blood with his face creased. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Unless he was captured,” Four said grimly.

“Or worse,” Warriors murmured.

Wind gave the Captain a look, and marched over to him, slipping past all of the destruction. He lightly swiped at his boot, and Warriors looked down at him, Wind meowing with a determined look on his face.

“I think he’s telling you to try being more positive,” Wild said with a smile, and Wind nodded, making Warriors’s grim expression ease just a little.

“All right,” he sighed. “I’m positive Sky is in trouble.”

Wind meowed something that sounded an awful lot like “hey!” and began trying to climb up Warriors’ pant leg.

“Hey, ouch stop that! You’re going to rip them!” Warriors scolded, but there was no real heart in it as he tugged Wind off his leg and picked him up. Wind looked completely unapologetic, and Twilight wasn’t the only one who laughed. “All right, all right, I get it. Maybe Sky killed all the monsters and is perfectly fine.”

“Well we’ll never know if we don’t look,” Legend said dryly. “Can you sniff out where Sky’s scent went, Wind?”

Wind nodded as Warriors set him back down, and began sniffing, working his way around the clearing. Twilight watched him go, nose wiggling, tail twitching, and did his best to ignore the returning urge to scoop Wind up and snuggle him.

Now was not the time.

Wind sniffed around the clearing for a long while, the other Links examining the debris for any further clues while they waited. Orangey sunshine spilled into the clearing, making Wind’s fur look like it was glowing as he sniffed. Twilight thought he was starting to look a little sick from the reek of monsters and blood in the air as he went, but he kept on sniffing, pacing carefully around the area as the sun slowly set.

He’d gotten more than halfway around when his head jerked up, ears swiveling to the side.

A noise had come from somewhere in the woods, not clear enough for Twilight to make out, but apparently Wind had. He meowed, quickly scampering back to the Links with a frantic look in his eyes.

“What was that, Sailor?” Twilight asked, and Wind batted at his extended hand. “Okay, okay. Something important?”

Wind meowed again, long and loud, and walked over to the edge of the clearing, gesturing as well as he could. His tail lashed aggressively, and he had a determined look on his face— at least, Twilight thought he did. Cats were a bit hard to read.

“He wants us to go that way?” Time asked as the rest of them came forward, and Wind meowed yet again, loudly.

“Well, that answers that. Let’s go,” Warriors called, and Legend gingerly picked up Wind before plunging into the bushes. Twilight jogged after them, the rest of the Links following, and he glanced back once at the torn-up clearing, a smear of blood catching his eye.

Then he sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that Sky was okay.

[novellafaire]

TWST BOYS AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

Just some headcanons on what I think they would be like as boyfriends ♡

Heartslabyul - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle (here!) - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

• he may try to act suave and charming all the time, but in reality he’s just clumsy in a cute way

• he gets flustered super easily

• you give him any compliment and his cheeks are already dusted with pink

• then he’ll cough to cover it up and regain his composure

• definitely tried to draft a contract for your relationship, but only cause he’s still insecure and that’s his defense mechanism

• he would never force you to sign it though

• dates at the Monstro lounge!!!

• you’re the only person allowed to enter the VIP room without knocking

• he’ll also try to subtly add items to the menu that are curated to your likes

• if you ask him about it though, he’ll deny deny deny

• he’ll also give you discounts, but it will never be free cause he still needs to make a profit (that’s a lie, if you gave him puppy dog eyes he would fold instantly)

• loves to spoil you

• refuses to admit that you have him wrapped around your finger, even if it’s obvious to everyone else

• he would do anything for you

• except show you his octopus form

• he’s still really insecure about it, and even though he knows you won’t judge him, he can’t help but worry

• he might at some point show you, it’ll just take a lot of time for him to get comfortable with the idea

• once he does though, it means he has a lot of trust in you

• he does tend to get jealous easily, but only because his insecurities get to him

• so when that happens, just reassure him that he’s the only one you have eyes for

• speaking of which, he loves it when you praise him, even if he does get flustered

• your appreciation means the world to him

• arguments do happen occasionally, but often times they’re more full of snide remarks and sarcasm rather than anything explosive

• they mainly happen because of stress; so all you guys’ need is some alone time before you reconvene and communicate about what the problems were

• would help you study

• jokingly says you’ll have to pay a price though… which just means he wants a kiss or attention

• not huge on PDA only because of how flustered he gets — he wants to save his image — so he would appreciate it if you let him know before making any moves in public

• that said, he does constantly have a hand on the small of your back

• tries to be a gentleman, but may stumble

• if anyone messed with you or talked bad about you, he would send the Tweels after them, and rest assured that it wouldn’t take long for the perpetrators to be cornered into a very unfavorable contract

• the Tweels enjoy your presence

• mainly cause it’s easier to tease and fluster Azul when you’re around, so they find it even more entertaining

• they are both happy for their friend though

• hesitant to let you meet his family, only because they would pester him about changing back into his natural form

• he would also combust if they showed you baby pictures of him; no matter how adorable you would find them

• so you only visit after he fully trusts you and is comfortable with you — and that he’s shown you his octopus form already

• over all, he is a shy boyfriend who would worship the ground you walk on ♡

• he may appear emotionless most of the time, with only the sinister smile of his gracing his features, but he does genuinely like you

• will want you to join the mountain lovers club, or at least join him on his hikes

• just because he wants to spend more time with you, and it’s doing something he’s passionate about

• which, he will talk to you about mushrooms as much as you’ll let him

• he’ll even show you his terrariums

• he isn’t prone to jealousy, but usually there’s no need for him to feel that way since people usually don’t flirt with you because Jade has his signature creepy smile that gets them to back off

• if they don’t, well then that’s on them…

• arguments aren’t common, because he’s extremely attuned to your emotions and will communicate with you about any issues

• even though he’s not known for his expressions, you’ll be able to read him extremely easily after some time

• which surprises him, but he loves it

• he will tease you, in what may come across as almost sadistic—

• but he never crosses the line

• he is very much a gentlemen

• therefore he doesn’t engage in much PDA

• but he will hold hands with you, or have his arm hooked so you can rest your hand in the crook of his arm while he puts his hand over yours

• he treats you very well

• whenever your upset, he will be solid at comforting

• gives you a shoulder to cry into, while also offering advice if you want it

• big on acts of service and will do what he can to help you

• usually people don’t bother you, but on the off chance they do, they’ll have to deal with both of the Tweels—

• and their punishment won’t be light

• Floyd likes teasing you but other than that he doesn’t really care too much about his twin’s relationship

• Jade would really appreciate it and love it if you and Floyd got along well though

• they are twins, after all

• Jade doesn’t care if you see his eel form or not, but if you want to see it then he won’t mind showing you

• meeting his family lowkey scares you—

• but as long as you prove to be loyal to Jade and that he’s happy, then they won’t interfere

•if you ever mention your interests, he’ll definitely look into them at least a little bit so you can talk about them to him

• over all, Jade is a very gentlemanly and calm boyfriend (who also has a sinister side—) ♡

• good luck dealing with this man—

• you’ll have to learn how to adapt to his mood swings pretty quickly

• but once you do that, you’re solid

• to be completely honest, Floyd probably saw you as just a plaything at first

• but then he continued to be happy around you, which is what lead to your relationship developing

• he is very chaotic; you’ll never be bored

• dates can be completely random with no preparation

• it’s always an adventure with him

• also be prepared for lots of hugs squeezing

• he loves having you wrapped up in his arms all the time

• which means he absolutely loves PDA

• he almost always has his hands on you in some form whenever you’re by each other

• he’s especially taken to leaning all his weight on you, so be prepared for that

• he also has a never ending list of nicknames he calls you — some extremely random and bizarre

• Ace and Jamil have mixed feelings about you visiting their basketball practices/games

• on one hand, you give Floyd a boost to actually put real effort into the game

• but on the other hand he’s even more chaotic when you’re around; and his whole attention is on you instead of the game

• Floyd loves it when you come and watch him though

• he is extremely prone to jealousy given his mood swings, and the only way you can really “console” him is to distract him and give him your full attention

• this also means the arguments aren’t uncommon, and they can be extremely volatile

• when Floyd’s annoyed or angry, it’s not pretty

• so it’s best to just let him cool off elsewhere, and then when he’s ready he’ll come back

• as long as it wasn’t a major problem, there probably won’t be much conversation or apologies said about it, you’ll just go back to normal

• that said, he is extremely protective of you

• if someone says anything bad about you, or dares to try to mess with you, best believe they’re in for a serious squeezing

• Jade will help sometimes as well

• speaking of which, Jade keeps a close eye on you

• he likes you well enough, but he really cares about Floyd so he wants to make sure you’re right for his twin

• you guys get along pretty well normally though

• whenever you’re upset, Floyd’s remedy is to trap you in a hug

• he has no issues showing you his eel form

• you don’t even have to ask because it usually happens when he forgets to take the potion/medicine

• you’ll have to remind him

• over all, Floyd is a very chaotic boyfriend who you’ll never be bored with ♡