#he can’t remember his own name but he will do this case without help!!

[permian-tropos]

I’ve only had disco elysium for like a week but I already have really intense opinions about kimharry roleswap AU

[lustlovehart]

[ Monsters List ] - Sensitive info with targets abilities

A/n: Not my usual writing at all! these details are relationship stuff each character has with the reader that isn’t shown in the main story. (Some details are omitted to avoid spoilers). Now that this is done, I’ll be going back to the main story line now ^^. If i’m missing any warnings, please say so.

Pairing: [Monster!Twst x Reader] Featuring, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, Silver, Rollo, & Neige.

Summary: Dear, [Name], Crowley just informed me he did not give the courtesy of listing all the beasts and their abilities into your possession, please allow me to be the one to aid you. Here are bullets of their names and prowesses, as well as species. Please, do stay safe and out of trouble, and remember to eat and sleep well. Love, From, Rollo.

“Did it send?” “I… I’m sorry Sir Rollo, it seems we were unable to reach [Name] in time…” “…What.”

Warnings: Some fuffy and some aren’t, Stalking, Mentions of Nsfw (Vil). Zombies (Ace, Deuce), Biting (Ace, Deuce, and Jamil), Squeezing? (Jamil, Floyd), Hints of possession in each section, Blood Drinking (Epel, Jade, Lilia), They’re all monsters that are evil so… Murder, Kisses (Kalim, Floyd, Malleus), Blood,

Prologue Chapter

Riddle Rosehearts [ Ghost ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic. [ Magic is a mystery in the field, all that is known is it’s abilities monsters have that aren’t typically in their species skillset, as well as being especially powerful to utilize it ]

- He posses the abilities of, phasing, possession, kinesis (many different kinds), invisibility, telepathy, and short moments of time where he can have a physical body. He tends to forget he’s a ghost leading to numerous times where you’ve accidentally injuried yourself and he rushes to your side to give aid, only for his to hand phase through you instead of truly helping. He feels guilty not being able to help you.

There’s a secret part of him that feels less guilty and more angry, about being incapable of touching you all the time. Sometimes, he wishes he was Ace just so he could wrap some part of him around you, but alas, he can only do so in short intervals, which just… isn’t enough.

- Has a habit of just, watching. You’ve caught him at your window at night. He insists coming in without permission is unlawful, to which you tell him looking at you through glass is just plain creepy. You now invite him for tea parties, yet that still doesn’t stop him from longingly gazing through the glass that separates you two. (freak)

- Glows a bright red when he’s either angry or extremely flustered. You walked in one time when the former was happening and were temporarily blinded, in your own temporary home no less…

With the latter… he was helping you figure out a crossword puzzle from a lost book you had found during the night. When he helped you figure it out, he swears your smile was so bright he was blinded. In your case, at least you didn’t need a lantern to see the page anymore.

- He has numerous stitches on his body, his mouth, his neck, and his heart, or at least, where it would’ve been had he still had it. In the short times when he decides to take on a physical form, he enjoys letting your hands trace over the numerous threads through his skin… He won’t admit it, but it’s a comfort.

- When he’s working, his exposition completely changes. You get scared of him, you forget just how determined he is to being the pinnacle of perfection, even as a monster.

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death.

Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade [ Zombies ]

- Infectious Bites. There have been many close calls where the two almost bit you, secretly hoping to turn you into them in their delusions of being with you forever, it never works though cause when they try, you turn and give them a smile that haunts them so bad they can’t bear the thought of you hating them. The idea always rears its ugly head back to them, but then you treat the two like a regular human and, unknowingly, save yourself just a little longer.

- Anatomy Control (Disassembling limbs and still having control). Deuce has a very common occurring tendency, that leads him to lose his limbs on occasion. He can still feel what they feel, but when they separate from him, they tend to have a mind of their own. There have been several times where you’ve been the one to return a limb, typically his hand, and he’s all fidgety cause it just refuses to let go of you.

“I… I promise this doesn’t usually happen…! I have no idea why it won’t let go of you” with how lovingly it was stroking your hand earlier (which you won’t mention to Deuce)… You’re not too sure either… Does it like the feeling of warmth? “Next time this happens, just… Feel free to stab it” he looks dejected, but you accept his offer nonetheless.

- Ace has asked to sleep with you in your bed because his grave is so cold and lonely. You wouldn’t want him dying alone a second time right? That’s too cruel. He was surprised when you accepted, even more so when you said there weren’t rules like “You have to stay on this side of the bed!” or “Don’t touch me!”, he asked you if you had a thing for him, to which you only quirk up your eyebrow at his question.

“Hm…? I’ve slept with someone before, I don’t think it’s that serious.” … What. Who’s this someone?! He doesn’t end up sleeping as he’s left wondering who you’ve been with before him, little does he know this someone was just a reserved monster hunter who was watching over you with a fever.

- They’re the most attached to you, in a physical sense. Considering at least one, or even more, of the limbs on the duo is just bones, along with Deuce missing an eye and Ace missing part of his face, it’s a bit hard for them to go out without giving people a heart attack. So… They break into wherever you’re temporarily staying, which is typically an abandoned house, and accompany you in every location they possibly can. One very worrying thing they do, is stick their limbs in your bag. They won’t admit it but, it’s cause they miss you. You need to tell them sticking Ace’s eye in there to keep watch is NOT okay.

- Survival: Eating Humans

Cater Diamond [ Ghost…? ]

- Phasing, possession, invisibility, telepathy. Though you don’t see him use any of these capabilities very much. You wonder why but never go through with asking him, how could you when he looks so happy to be in your presence? At least, you think he’s happy. You can never tell if it’s genuine or not… His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes like everyone else…

- Whenever he decides to spend his time with you, his face is never close enough in view for you to decipher any real features of his. What color are his eyes? What does his nose look like? Is the diamond you remember on him even there? The basics of a face are in your memory, but you can never remember the more eunique traits of his. You… Don’t know why that is at all. It feels like you’re forgetting something from the first meeting you had with Cater, but your suspicions tell you it had something to do with his face.

- Even though he’s a ghost, it feels like he forgets something about that sometimes… It’s different from Riddle, who simply forgets he no longer has a physical body, it’s like he doesn’t remember he even died in the first place. You’ve seen him all alone, the sunny disposition he proposes to everyone is gone, a hollow feeling in his vicinity. You couldn’t hear it clearly, the only word heard at all being sisters.

- The moment he sees you it’s like he’s scrambling to change his disposition, walking up to you casually as he mentions how cute you look today, ahh you should take him shopping! He’ll be discreet don’t worry—

“Cater, how did you die?”

“Wha—? W-who cares about that, come on just take me to town kay’?” you do end up bringing him as he points at things he’ll never be able to use, commenting on how cute they would be to have and show off, even attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulder before laughing off at his arm phasing through your body and making your spine shiver.

You don’t miss the way his laugh is more forced than usual, and obvious distress at what happened. Why is he so upset he can’t touch you? Is there a reason he wants to so bad? For once, you wanna know.

“Cater, lets go on a date again.”

“I didn’t know you were so up-front…! But, if you’re asking then I just can’t say no can I?”

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death(?)

Trey Clover [ Frankenstein ]

- The sight of a giant, buff, green, adult man, hovering over you like a doting boyfriend as you bake is certainly a domestic sight to behold. Though it becomes less heartwarming when you remember this scientifically resurrected man is 8 feet tall, he can basically reach the top shelf when he’s kneeling.

- Just like the zombies of Heartslaybul, Trey can disassemble his limbs, but he has more control over it than the other two… You’ve had a fair share of moments where you’re trying to eat and a stitched up hand crawls towards you with a piece of cake., it’s sweet, but horrifying in the dark.

- He’s a glorified brick wall, if brick walls could also fight back at insane speeds. You watched him unintentionally scare off another Monster Hunter once, they weren't intimidated by his size at all, even attempting to throw a punch at him to show off. Their try immediately backfired as Trey stood unfazed, watching them run away cradling their hand. Before you can blink, Trey’s already towering over you asking if there was a pastry he should try making for you. Honestly… You need to tell Crowley to hire better employees.

- Trey has electrocuted you once. Totally unintentional on his part, but if someone asked him what he thought when he did it, he would tell them with a soft smile you look cute. Meanwhile, you’re on the other side of the room trying to make sure Trey doesn’t increase the voltage next time he tries holding you. Everytime he attempts to do just that, you’re quick to jump out the way. He’ll smile softly but he can’t deny he’s a little disheartened... Seems he’ll just have to rebuild that trust.

- Despite all the stitches on his body, unlike Riddle, there aren’t open wounds on his body, so he’s technically the only one who can accompany you without drawing too much attention. It’s a secret kept between the two of you, but whenever you head into the square, you both walk to as many bakeries as possible, tasting whatever you can afford. Whenever he put something in his mouth, he’d make an offhand comment about his family. You wonder… How did Trey even resurrect like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Leona Kingscholar [ Beastman Mummy ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His skin is wrapped in so many bandages, all of them he can bend at his will. You’re curious as to what he looks like under the fabric, but one glare and the feeling of binds grappling around your body is enough for you to reconsider. That’s only if you attempt to look underneath, if not, he’ll sit in silence as you admire each carefully placed bind, cracking an eye open to watch you close in on him in curiosity.

- Watching him manipulate sand just to make places to sleep is entertaining, but being dragged into his timeframe of napping is surely not. The grip he has on you is ironclad as the two of you lay on the grainy bed, if you complain about sand getting into your clothes he’ll make a sly suggestion of “Just take off your clothes” before retreating into a slumber that you can’t shake him from. Even if you did decide to do that, how would you even take them off…? He won’t let go of you…!

- Despite being a former corpse, if he was still mortal, he’d essentially be an ultimate being. He’s super strong, fast, he’s quick at recovering, and even if you did cut off a limb of his he’d regrow in just half the time it took to get it off him. To make it worse he’s handsome, has an air of nonchalance, and a prince. You can just imagine the sound of Crewel and Rollo nagging at you for thinking such heinous things about a beast you’re meant to be killing.

- Whenever Leona controls the dead, you hide behind him. Not because you’re scared of his army, but because they remind you of Ace and Deuce, and you’d rather not see versions of themselves not heed danger whatsoever. You were half awake one time when he summoned corpses, your blurry eyes mistaking two of them for Deuce and Ace, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them into you. You only realize it’s not them when Leona grabs your from behind and hoists your body onto his shoulder like a sack.

“Wrong Zombies.” he makes an effort to have you sleep more before you accidentally kill yourself for such a small error.

- That little pain inducement ability he has? It sucks. It’s funny when he uses it to telepathically pinch Ruggie when he’s away. But, being reduced to a puddle of pure hurt and strain is the worst. Just watching Leona use it makes you remember… nevermind. Seeing his victims fall to their knees as he drains them of their life force is depressing, the burden of your defeat rearing its shame when he just knocks back and naps as their bodies turn to sand.

- Even when his tail wraps around your leg in a form of adoration, you can’t help but feel disdain for yourself remembering all those who are now dust on the ground because of him.

- Survival: Feeding off vitality

Ruggie Bucchi [ Werehyena ]

- Please tell Ruggie to stop tracking you with his senses and your stolen possessions, you’ve been scared too many times by him popping up out of nowhere. It’s even more horrifying in the night since his face looks so scary (His happy face looks the same as his hunting face. Don’t tell him though, he’ll rob you of your belongings in pettiness.)

- His eyes are so hypnotizing, both poetically and realistically. You’ve seen him mesmerize loving couples into handing over their belongings in his human form, only to revisit them later in the night to consume the rest of his steal. You asked him once what the point is in getting their stuff in the day only to kill them in the night, and he just smiles before softly placing a piece of bread on your lips.

You never take the bread from his hands, allowing him to feed you himself all the time, feeding you with the same hands stained with a bloody ending to a romance story. Maybe… it’ll get his pension for praying on lovers to soften, the thought of having his own might put his thoughts to bay… Who are you lying to that won’t happen, it’s how he lives, and how he will continue to live.

You know it won’t change when he’s desperately trying to hide the red stains under his nails.

- He’s very keen on being in your vicinity. No reason, you think, but he’s just always there, talking to you like normal. Which is weird, why does it feel so normal? The more you ponder it, maybe he’s more natural in your life cause of how equalized he is. He’s laidback yet cunning at the same time, not too good, but not too heinous (if you ignore his murders.) It’s a nice change of pace from people who see, to be heavily relent on one trait. Even though with a kinder personality feel weird… So, talking to Ruggie is a nice escape—

“Ruggie, did you take my wallet again?”

“How’d you think I paid for that bread? Shihihi— Augh! Ow okay I'm sorry—!” he makes it up to you by giving you his portion of food. You pretend to take it out of pettiness, but late at night when he’s sleep, you wrap it up and leave it on his bedside for when he goes hungry in the night.

When he does wake up, he knows who left the meal by his side, including the extras that lay next to it.

- Survival: Eating anything he can get his hands on

Jack Howl [ Human…? ]

- You always wondered how Jack got so built. Of course, if it’s from training, you would never undermine his efforts. But, his strength is so hardcore you doubt it’s even humanly possible. There had been a speech from Crowley in town you attended with both Jack and Rollo, all three of you booted to the very back. When you commented on how you couldn’t see, Rollo told you “We could always move forward—” But he’s cut off with shock when he watches Jack effortlessly carry you onto his shoulder, keeping you rested there for an hour straight without complaint, even shifting the way he holds you depending on what you wanted at the moment.

“We could’ve just gone up there, Jack… Now put them down…!”

“I don’t mind, They seem comfortable here anyway.” You can’t help but laugh at Rollo's overbearing nature, patting his head as you hold onto Jack.

- Hes never answered you before on when or how he joined the hunting organization, literally. He’s so silent when you ask, but the moment you switch to a different topic he’s chiming in his opinion like he didn’t just give you the silent treatment for 15 minutes. He told you he’d never lie to you, so, you guess he was telling the truth about that statement.

- Whenever Rollo is unavailable to you, Jack essentially works as his “replacement” according to Sam. You wouldn’t call him that though, Jack cares for you the same way Rollo does, but he’s a lot less… Restricted towards you. You can go out at midnight with him as long as you let him walk you back home, You can eat more junk food, and you can even go into the forest with him outside of a job! Rollo is oblivious to it, but there are moments where you might, just a tinsy weensy bit, prefer having Jack watch over you compared to him. You still love Rollo though! (Never say that to him directly, he will dissect what kinda of love it is you’re implying for him.)

- Overall, you can’t wait to see him again when you go to Savanaclaw! You’re curious as to why he hasn’t reached back to you after the 2 months he's been there though…

Azul Ashengrotto [ Slime Kraken ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His true form is huge, being bigger than the size of 5 pirate ships combined. When he shrinks himself though, he’s only 7 feet long and huge, rather than 50 feet long and huge! Less scary right? (it’s not, you’re just trying to delude yourself.)

- It’s more dangerous when considering the substance he’s made out of is multi-purpose, making him invisible, essentially unkillable, and extremely capable in offense. You’ve seen it first hand considering you’ve been on the receiving end of his malice once. If you have to admit it though, it’s a lot scarier watching him use his skills on unknowing sailors. You collect what remains of them, and set them to rest far away from the sea.

- During the night, you’re divided on whether or not he can be considered horrifying, or beautiful. The twins glow, but they're limited to their one-color pallets. Azuls body, channels the light from his surroundings, making him more than one color sometimes. It’s a bit saddening when you notice how insecure he is about the material of his body, even using magic to appear more human-like in his state. If you tell him he’s handsome in his regular slime state, he’ll flush in embarrassment. (If you go a step further and hug him as such a gross substance, goodness, he’s already looking through books at the bottom of the ocean about human courting. Never mind you’re still trying to kill him, he’ll slay your heart if he has to!)

- If he uses Magic, he, can turn himself into a human for a little. He never really had a reason to go on land, he’s powerful in the sea, even ranked as one of the 7 most wanted monsters. But, now that you’re in his life, he wants to follow you and see what it would be like to live with you as a person. He doesn’t call it a date, but he thinks of it as one, even imagines himself telling Jade and Floyd (Little does he know they already beat him to the punch on that one…). You take him by the hand and the urge to stay on land with you becomes even stronger. But, so does the need to have you in the ocean with him.

- His tentacles along with his crazy strength, just make him an even harder foe to fight. Truly… What are you meant to do when you’re sitting down and in his sleep, he just clings onto you with a tentacle, and now you just, can’t leave? Besides he’s asleep, how are they latching onto you so hard… They don't have a mind of their own— You remember seeing an article that wrote about such a phenomenon. Okay, so maybe they do act of their own volition… why do they cling so desperately to you?

- Survival: Eating as much of whatever is available

Jade Leech & Floyd Leech [ Skeleton Sea Serpents ]

- During your stay in their abode, you’d wake up to Floyd squeezing you so hard you swear one of the bones on his tail were gonna puncture you. He’s too strong, horrifically strong to the point you fear getting squeezed more than twice a day could genuinely kill you. If you don’t voice this concern, you might risk your death, but if you do, he’ll restrain himself a bit (he couldn’t bear the thought of killing his shrimpy! You’re too fun to play with, let him kiss those sore places better yeah? Besides, just a little biting doesn’t hurt)

- Their senses are so enhanced, it’s just as scary as their strength. You had sliced your hand once, a medium amount of blood pouring out, and before you could even do anything, Jade had swam up to you and latched onto your wrist, pulling you down, almost tugging you into the water, and began licking the wound clean, his eyes empty and his sharp teeth dragging across your skin. You thought he was miles away…?! How did he know you were bleeding…? When he’s done, he pats your hand and smiles before engaging in a casual conversation about your day, uncharacteristically gentlemanly after such a scary display. If you ask him what that was about, he’ll innocently tilt his head and ask you “whatever are you talking about?”

- Just like Azul, their true forms are giant, not as big as his, but still equally as terrifying, the sharp bones that poke out their body further proving this fact.

- Extremely Fast, You’ve seen this first hand when Floyd jumped out of the water and dragged you through the sea to transport you to a “beach date” in the middle of the ocean, in only 3 minutes…He heard of these dates from Azul, “Said he was gonna take you on one, thought it’d be funny if I took yah instead.” You’re unable to inquire what he means by “Azul trying to take you out”, as he’s brightly smiling when he places a sailor's cap on you. The small sight of blood in his canines is all you need to know about where this hat came from.

- Their teeth are sharp that’s for sure, you watched Jade sink his teeth into unsuspecting marine life. The thought of him doing the same to ships 7 times the size of such animals, makes you worried for future sailors, and… For yourself. He flaunts those ivories at you so much, you’re worried he’s trying to hint at his insatiable hunger. (He’s doesn’t bite like Floyd does, but honestly, you’d prefer if he bit you instead of grazing his teeth on your skin so sensually)

- They like to drag you into the water with them. You’re sure it’s how they have fun, the only exposure to the human world other than you is Azul and artifacts they collect from ships they were responsible for destroying. So of course, they wouldn’t know the first thing of human play, yet… you have the underlying feeling they have a reason for doing such a thing that isn’t just entertainment.

- Survival: Anything they can fit in their mouths (Whether it be marine life or ships. Though, these two have a specific craving for human)

Kalim Al-Asim [ Genie ]

- Extremely strong, every time he hugs you he completely forgets his strength. In the moments where he does realize it, he’s quick to apologize. If you tell him where you hurt, he’ll insist “kissing” it will make it better! It’s what worked on his siblings, so it must work for you! If you don’t tell him… he’ll cry, so it’s better to just tell him.

- Wishmaking. He insists on letting him give you a wish, after all, you did save him from being lonely! (You’re not sure if you could call it “saving” considering you were trying to kill him… and still are… ). You never accept his offer, with the knowledge that everything has a price, (Thank you Azul for such a good lesson learned) which makes him sad, but in your awkward ways of comfort, you tell him the only wish you want, is a hug. He is ecstatic and wraps his arms around you, tight. You’re regretting your wish now. Though, the glare from two pairs of slit eyes tells you you’re not the only one who doesn’t like the wish.

- Too many riches too count… You wake up, gifted in gold and jewels, you’re halfway through the day, more diamonds and rubies, going to sleep… Gold and emeralds. You told Kalim no more. He found a loophole and just replaced the cheaper items with more expensive ones. It’s technically not more so… You make a reminder to dump it all on Rollo, he’ll surely enjoy having money to tend to his garden. (He won’t. You already know he’ll refuse anything from a monster. But, if you bat your eyelashes enough he might accept it.)

“Kalim, I don’t need any more rubies.” You’re sat on his golden throne, the optimistic wish granter between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sits on the floor, a beaming smile making you hesitant on his next words.

“Then I’ll just give you more diamonds!” … Truly, you thought genies could only give out three wishes, why does it feel like this one wants to give you more than that… It’s gotten to the point where you think he wants only you to be the one he grants anything to, going so far as finding a way to bypass the rules. He even gave you his lamp, which you gave back to Jamil upon receiving it.

- You do wonder… Where are the rest of the people Kalims granted desires to? Even more so, the rest of the genies, as far as you’re concerned, Crowley said there was only one left (that he wanted to get his greedy hands on). If you had just searched Kalim and Jamils shared space, surely you would’ve found the corner filled with broken lamps in it.

Survival: Not sure, Either immortal or some secret to survival.

Jamil Viper [ Snake ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Half snake half man, his lithe body is enough to give you pause no matter how many times you see it, even after seeing the leeches who have a similar body. You think the reason might be more cause of his intimidating eyes rather than his actual body however, 2 sharp slits are enough to make anyone rethink their judgment.

- When he sleeps, he unknowingly wraps around you, his human half bunching you in his arms as if he isn’t squeezing your legs. You think it’s just his instincts using use as warmth considering he’s cold-blooded, so you let him (Little do you know he’s perfectly warm enough, his body is just drawn to you for some reason). When he wakes up, he considers poisoning himself from embarrassment.

- Venomus, the long pointed fangs could tell you that much. When he sheds a tooth after meeting you, he doesn’t toss it away like he used to, he finds a piece of string and slides it through the solid, letting you watch him in skepticism as he slithers towards you, gently placing the newly formed necklace in your palm as his forked tongue sticks out. (He also left a little venom trapped inside, in case anyone gets a little too close than wanted.)

- Don’t stare into his eyes to long, or else you’ll find yourself entranced by the slits in his pupils, and completely hypnotized without even his knowledge. It’s like he’s so enchanted by you that he forgets he can do something like that. When he realizes what he’s done, an hour goes by before you come to. You don’t feel any different, but one looks at your wrist adorned with a snake bracelet that wasn’t there before tells you something happened…

You can’t move it from its place, but you honestly don’t want to, it’s pretty. Works perfectly well in Jamil's favor, if you had, you definitely would’ve noticed the two holes punctured into your skin by a familiar set of fangs—

“Jamil, Kalim gave me his lamp again.”

“… Really?” He’s quick to take it off your hands. If only he could wish instead… it would make his life so much easier.

- Survival: Undocumented

Vil Schoenheit [ Incubus ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- You’re human. You’re not immune to charm and flirtation. It’s disappointing that Vil is so good at what he does. You haven’t given into temptation, at least, not yet.

- Shapeshifting, he’s told you before if you have someone in mind you’d ever want to do such things with, he can transform into them if you hope to practice your confession, when you tell him nobody comes to mind, you fail to notice the devious smile that perches on his lips in victory. It seems the only face that will appear in your brain in such moments of vulnerability will be his, and that’s enough for him.

“Though, Since I used to see Neige almost every day maybe his? He has seen me in moments even Rollo hasn’t…”

What?

- Feasting on the vitality of humans is something commonly known for incubi, you’ve asked Vil before if you’re going to die soon from him touching you… You already know he’s an amazing actor so when he answers you, you can’t tell if he’s lying or if it’s the truth, especially when he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips like a prince, perfectly playing off the suspicion in his answer.

- You think it’s unfair he’s so attractive, if he had only half his looks it would at least be easier to not stare at his pretty features— what are you thinking…?! You can already hear the scolding of everyone else telling you how heinous it is to think such thoughts, but once again, you're distracted by the feeling of Vil dipping into the couch next to you, offering a drink as if you two were just ordinary people. To be fair, his whole survival depends on how well he can interact with humans… He only smiles when you take the drink.

- Making Hallucinations is just common practice for Vil, Rook praising him for all the people who gave into his temptations from his feats. You were once sure he had never used it on you, you could never fall for such a puny delusion, but now, your confidence has faded. Things in your memory are blurry, unclear.

Has… Vil has been using it on you…?

- Survival: Corruption of humans through desire, feeding off vitality

Rook Hunt [ Boogeyman ]

- You make an extreme effort to avoid all manners of shadows since you’ve met him. Lurking in the dark is his forte, and it doesn't bode well for you because almost all your work is done in the dark. Even then… your efforts are in vain because you still feel the sensation of eyes burning into you at all times of the day. In these cases, you retreat to Vil in hopes he can rein him in a bit.

- Shapeshifting is a rare and dangerous ability. Unfortunately, Rook of all monsters has it. Even in places with no signs of shadows, it feels like he’s still there. It doesn’t make it any better that he hints towards that being the truth.

“Ah trickster, you looked magnifique in that bathing suit!”

“You were the waiter who kept offering me drinks weren’t you.”

“The way I observe my muse shall not be disclosed!”

- Watching Rook feast on fear isn’t scary, but rather… unsettling…? He places his mouth near his victim as what you can only assume to be their fear twists up into his throat, the horrified human trembling in terror. Such a scary expression quickly disappears when he turns to you with the happiest smile and gushes to the poor human about how wonderful you are, rubbing his cheek to yours like a sappy couple.

“Ah! Trickster…! You are quite sweaty! Shall I dry you off—” you shut him up by throwing the same towel he was about to clean you up with, in his face.

- His skill set is already horrifying, but adding in the basic ability of enhanced strength just makes it worse. You can’t even begin to count how many walls Rook has torn through for you… A simple ow, and what you originally thought to be a brick wall, is now a giant hole with the boogeyman at your call. It’s harder to be nice to him when he’s insistent that you train your capabilities on him. The amount of times Rook has turned a stab into a firm held waltz is just too many.

“Non non, You must hide your hand better trickster.”

“I would do that if you weren't cradling me into a dip right now Rook— Stop dancing with me already!”

- Survival: Fear and Grief

Epel Felimer [ Newbie Vampire ]

- He's asked you before if he could suck you dry. He honestly expected you to say no, but when you reached your arm out and told him to just not turn you, he was sure you must be some sort of blessing in disguise. When he’s done, he begs you not to tell Vil, as the incubus banned him from feeding. You’ll come to regret it at some point though, as now he continuously comes back to you in times of hunger.

- He runs at such fast speeds, it’s incredible to you, you’ve clapped for him a couple times, but, every-time you did… he got distracted and would trip. He wishes the sun would come up and kill him in those moments.

- Compulsion is a dangerous thing, you shouldn’t be shocked, but luckily for you, he… doesn’t seem to know how to use it the way it should be utilized. The moment he does finally master such an ability, you’ll have to find someway to get past that. He did try using it on you once, a simple command asking you to tell him how “manly” he is, somehow, someway, the command turned into something much more… embarrassing. He stands in bewilderment at the way your hands are cupping your face, endlessly praising Epel about how amazing he is, and how you wish to stay with him forever.

Vil and Rook stepped in to save you. He was sat in the corner as a punishment.

- His hunger is, insatiable. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a monster so bloodthirsty. It’s like he has some goal to just, feast on as many people as he can… He mistook you as a stranger he could freely feast on, jumping on you, ready to sink his fangs into your neck. He’s only narrowly stopped when the moon shines on your face and he knows it’s you. If it wasn’t, whoever took your place would not doubt be dead.

- Survival: Blood

Idia Shroud [ Reaper ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- With how moody Idia is, you forget what his occupation is until he shows up at your door with the scythe he uses to escort the dead.

- Reapers aren’t necessarily evil or good, which is why you’re always conflicted about how to feel about Idia. Should you… Make your decisions based off his personality rather than what he is to slay him—? Why is he whispering about how all the other monsters should drop dead— Ah, he thinks they’re cooler than him.

- You essentially work as a discounted vent session as Idia talks about how everyone else is so much worthier than him to be slain by hunters. They all have cool abilities and cool looks, what is he stuck with? An edgy cloak and a tool farmers use to cut hay—

- His rant is cut short at the sound of a cheap board game slamming on the table, his eyes looking up to you placing a game piece on the spot, signaling him to take his turn as you tell him how he’s “the only one you find playing games with fun”. Truly, you must be one of the kindest souls he’s had the fortune of meeting, he should know, half of the spirits he escorts are huge douches.

- It just makes him all the more worried about bringing you to the after life.

- Even though Idia doesn’t have a reason to actively hurt humans, it’s still worrying when he describes to you in detail of his After life Capabilities. He once told you a story about how a guy was acting so high and mighty he trapped him in the space between life and death, only coming back to laugh at him when the man was practically broken. He only stops his retelling when he looks up and sees the most hurt expression on your face.

- After that, he sits up before you can even say anything, leaving immediately as he buries his head in his hands. The next day, he’s at your door as you silently stare at him, his form of retribution for your hurt being whatever you mentioned wanting during the week. You accept his gift, but that still doesn’t stop the fear of what Idia does to the souls he guides with a lack of fondness.

- Survival: Unable to Die. (Speculation)

Malleus Draconia [Dragon Gargoyle… And… something else?]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Heavy durability, as he is pure stone. in times of desperation, you watch as green sparkles fly around the man as stone turns soft. His spell doesn’t last long but in his desire he chooses to pepper you in kisses with smooth lips. The first time he attempted to romantically place a peck on your arm, you cringed at the feeling of rough stone on your skin. It hurt his feelings so he opted to just spell himself instead.

- Heavy. He didn’t wanna move away from a doorway you had to exit through to leave. You tried lifting him out of the way, you don’t think you’ve ever tried so hard to move something before. He thought it was an attempt at a hug, so you ended up being smooshed in his arms for an hour before Lilia saved you.

- Camaflouge, the stone he’s made of, and moss that grows on his body can be manipulated in any way he wishes, even his size, it’s scary watching him go from his regular 6 feet to an astonishing 10. This trait of his has served numerous moments where you’re surveying his castle only to feel arms pulling you back into a stone exterior. Your reflexes are swift to throw a punch, only to have the cruel reminder of rock busting your hand.

“Ah forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you Child of hunters”

“My hand is broken Malleus.”

“We can just get you a new hand can we not?” That night serves as the first of having to tell Malleus he can’t always spell you when you’re injured. To this, he tells you that’s nonsense and he’ll expend all his reserves for you.

- Considering he’s also a Dragon, flight, and fire breathing really shouldn’t surprise you. What does surprise you is when he looked more dragon than gargoyle sometimes, his eyes becoming more lively, scales being more obvious, and his wings and horn being truer than they’ve ever been. You have a sneaking suspicion his instincts change forms too, his already heavy clinginess increasing tenfold. You’re either held by his clawed fingers or wrapped in his wing.

- Despite Malleus being marked as one of the most dangerous kills possible, you find it extremely easy to… ask him to do something. In fits of anger, he’ll cling impossibly close to you, trying desperately to attempt to cease the ugly feeling festering inside him. He’ll tell you he never wants you to leave his side. If you’re not feeling like being trapped inside, all you need to do is wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his ear with a low whisper, asking him to let you go. For a moment, his grip will tighten, but slowly he relents, his stone eyes watching you wave goodbye.

- Though, truthfully, You don’t feel like you’re free… Sometimes, you notice gargoyles in places where there shouldn’t be any. Sooner or later, his resolve might break, asking him for such freedoms might not be as easy.

- Not only that but… There’s definitely a side to him that isn’t just some Dragon Gargoyle. Whenever you have the chance to dig deeper into it, you’re met with a wall that separates you from the truth. Just what is Malleus?

- Survival: ???, Unable to Die. Do not attempt.

Lilia Vanrouge [ ??? ]

- Caution: Possibly capable of Magic.

- Certainly the most mysterious of the bunch… To be fair, everyone in the Diasmonia space is filled with anonymity. He doesn’t have any specific qualities that warrant a decisive conclusion, but you’re confident that he’s not a human. Sometimes he has wings, sometimes fangs, sometimes spider legs, just what is he?! (He has used this capability to scare you on numerous occasions, taking the form of a giant wasp and chasing you once. When he gets bored though, he clings onto you endlessly, not as bad as Malleus but still very often. You woke up to him in your bed once, and now he occasionally appears there to “wake you up” by sliding his arms around your waist. Please tell him you’ll only let him do this if he stops turning into freaky stuff…)

- You have no doubt he’s one of the monsters that eat humans. You took a sniff of his red juice once, it’s definitely blood, and considering why you’re here, it’s for sure not animal blood. Out of guilt for failing whatever human is his current meal, you offered up yourself as a blood bag, and he happily indulged, pining you to the table and nipping that delicious spot on your neck. Out of courtesy for everyone else in the castle... You lock the door.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re quite sure he didn’t honor the agreement anyway, as he’s happily feasting on a mystery meat you know isn’t any creature near this castle.

- He always keeps you on your toes, one of the moments being when he used his flight to carry you all over the sky, laughing at you and your body clinging onto him in fear of dropping to your death. It makes it worse that he doesn’t do it slow, he flies so fast you can hear the wind slicing through the air, your arms only wrapping around his neck trying to get even closer than you already are.

“Lilia…! Lilia! Put us down—! I’m gonna die…!” you can feel his hand pat your head as he tightens his grip on your body.

“Aww…don’t worry, as long as I’m here you won’t fall!” you believe him, but that doesn’t make you feel any safer at all…

- Despite how decrepit the Diasmonia castle is, there are still photos of its rein on the wall. In an attempt to know your targets better, you look at some of them, immediately recognizing Lilia in one of the frames… But, his aura seemed different, more cold, more cruel… He was bloodied, and you’re sure that body he’s holding is what you think it is, but, he doesn't have that usual crazy happy look he has when he catches his next meal.

-Just how did Lilia end up like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Sebek Zigvolt [ Swamp Monster ]

- He says you’re pathetic. (He continues to leave flowers specific from his swamp at your door) You’re not… You’re not very sure what he thinks of you…? He says you’re a coward, yet continues to gift you plants after you offhandedly mentioned how you think they’re pretty. So… What does that mean…?

- Maybe they’re poisonous… Heh… Maybe you can use them on Crowley—

- Your plan of attack is interrupted as a booming voice bursts your ear drums, the source of distress being the green being covered in moss, water, and vines. You follow the trail of plants leading from the swamp to the creature behind you, a bear, wrapped in controlled swamp foliage by the monster of the water. Sebek huffs and chastises you for such carelessness, but the feeling of you scooping his hands into yours and thanking him with a smile makes the words on his tongue go numb. Not for too long though, as he tells you obviously a beast like him can handle such lowly creatures, no wonder you didn’t notice.

- Before you came along, according to Silver, the water he resides in used to be a mess, as he said “Lilia believes it to fit my role of Swamp Monster, so I shall keep it!” so he kept it the way it is and let it out control. But, apparently, after you, it subtly became neater, flowers adorning the ridges of where once was messed moss, his water adorned with petals of your favorite color, the place even smelling like your favorite scent. He tells you it’s just a change of scenery for Malleus, not anyone else, you only smile at him, not replying. Malleus doesn’t have the same favorite scent.

- Like his fondness for nature, his power of water is equally as tantalizing to watch. He didn’t know you were there, but you were watching him train, your eyes becoming more entranced in his movements when you saw him become sidetracked from his patience for a moment. A book was laid in front of him, one that he delved deeper and deeper into with interest. It seems he has a fondness for literature, so after that, you would leave books you had at his residence, watching with amusement at how fascinated he was. Unfortunately, you walked up to him once when he was meant to be training, and in attempt to hide his hobby, he flicked his hands and let the water swallow every page in aqua.

“I have been training this whole time human…!”

“Ah, I got you all those. Now they’re wet…” He acts like he doesn’t care, but he secretly feels bad, so discreetly, he attempts to piece every page lost in the water together before presenting you with a new book.

- Survival: Swamp

Silver [ ??? ]

- Honestly, his abilities are lighthearted when not used to a heavy extent. He can eat dreams of those who sleep, typically, nightmares. There have been rumors spreading of a night creature who creeps into rooms, sucking the ambitions and hopes of its victims… They’re not wrong, if he’s called upon too often he’ll strip the person of all their wants and, dreams. Go a step further, and he might as well suck the life out of a human.

- But… You know he doesn’t mean to… At least you hope not.

- Sometimes your judgment feels misplaced when you watch him go overboard in his hunger, his trance only capable of being broken when you grab him by the shoulder, maybe even point a blade at him in desperation.

- He can travel into dreams. You’ve caught him lurking in your conscious one too many times to count. It’s not like he’s devouring your fantasy, but you can’t help and wonder why he’s almost always there. He doesn’t change what’s happening in it, he doesn’t destroy it so… Why is he there so often?

- it’s ironic, a creature who lives off the manifestation of people’s conscious, sleeps so much. You remember sorting through flowers Sebek had “gifted” you, (You’re not sure if it counts as gifted considering he threw them at you saying “they’re frail, just like a weak human.”) and Silver had sat right next to you, begining a sentence before dropping his head into your lap, a deep slumber commencing on your thighs.

- He wakes up ready to apologize, but the feeling of your hands gently playing with his hair, is enough for him to fall back asleep immediately.

- He’s a lot more welcoming to stay with compared to the rest of the monstrous residents of Diasmonia. If you’re free from Malleus and Lilias's grasp, you’re quick to run over to him. He’s typically sleeping, so, when he’s nodding off you sit down next to him, slowly placing your head on his shoulder as you fall asleep. If you’re to be trapped here for a bit, it wouldn't hurt to have some form of comfort in this run-down place.

As you fall into slumber, you secretly wish to meet Silver in a dream again.

It’s coincidental that he wakes up the moment you place your head on him, it’s a pretty sight to him. He hopes… you’ll stay here, he enjoys your company too much. As soft snores leave you, his hands move on their own, grasping onto your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.

It’s selfish, he was raised to do what he must to survive as a monster by his father. So he knows, what he feels is natural, but there’s a lingering thought he shouldn’t feel this heavy about a human… He doesn’t wanna let you go.

- Survival: Dream Feasting

Neige Leblanche [ Angel ]

- It’s… a bit unnerving how kind he is… You understand he’s a supposed Guardian Angel specially dedicated to your well but goodness, he was not very good at his job.

- He essentially watches you go about your day, occasionally blessing you to see your eyes light up with happiness.

- Despite how much he grooms the feathers on his back, he never lets you get too close to them, folding them back up when you’re near enough to see them more intricately or graze your fingers on them. It never bothered you, truly, he’s so nice to to you you could never be suspicious of him.

- He had to attend to personal matters once when you were eating together, his wings fluttering before he ascended. A pair of feathers had fallen in place of where he once was, One plumage was as white as snow, and the other…

- Was as dark as ebony.

- Survival: Being Good

Rollo Flamme [ Human ]

- He’s always been by your side.

- He would never be one of those wretched filthy beasts. He’s always cared for you when you couldn’t care for yourself.

- Don’t look at him like that. Why… Why is there scorn in your eyes…? He’d never hurt you, never.

- You’re the only sanctuary of purity in his life, he wants to embrace you. He always has, your happiness has always been his.

- He has always wanted to save you from the hellish life mother nature had dealt you.

So please…

- Let him hug the one thing he cares for one more time. And…

Forget the white lie he gave you.

- Survival: You

The day is today. The date you left Rollo without saying even the slightest hint of a farewell. It has been 364 days, without you.

It’s a sorrowing sight for coworkers of his who know how close you are. But, if they had just looked closer, the looming feeling of festering jealousy would no doubt impede their senses.

Rollo knows he can feel it. He will find a way to drag whatever wretched beasts are ruining you with their filth, down to hell.

“Ah! Mr.Flamme, Hello Hello—!” ringed fingers slam mercilessly into the wood of a desk, any harder and he might’ve broken it. “Be careful…! This desk is expensive…!”

“It’s been a year since [Name] left for these jobs… Why aren’t they back?” Rollos on the verge of bursting a vein, the only composure he has left is strung together by the thin thread of hope he has of you coming back, coming back to him.

“Well, My little Birdie is—”

“There is no My, and there is no Birdie, don’t call them that.”

“Possesive much…”

“It’s not posseviness.” Crowley only nods at him, obviously, he doesn’t believe the man, but he’ll pretend if it means moving this conversation along.

“I will answer your question in due time, now would you please… remind yourself why it is you’re here in the first place?”

———

A/n Did I do a shit ton of research about monsters and their abilities for this, a post that was meant to be a shitpost? No, who would do that? (I would). Anyways, I hope this can satisfy Monster!Twst enjoyers while I work on the heartslaybul chapter, I promise I’m working on it to make it the best possible! (Blame the economy for my lack of activity on it)

[waywardsonsandaughters]

So I wrote a thing. Orbwin and Chorb have been living in my head rent free and this is what came of it. Please note, it's not beta read, but I hope you enjoy (it was so much fun to write).

-----

It was an unseasonably warm day when it happened.

Charles didn’t notice at first. He was a ghost. Ghosts don’t get warm. He had smiled wryly, hearing the curt, but affectionate, admonishment from Edwin even without Edwin having to verbalize it.

“Ghosts don’t need to sleep, Charles.” Edwin would sigh.

“Charles, ghosts just don’t get sick.” the words punctuated as if that would help it stick.

“Remember Charles, we can’t feel anything of the living.” the statement was always delicate, as if Edwin didn’t want to upset Charles. 

“We don’t feel hot or cold. Really, Charles.” it came as an impatient scoff, but as with anything, infused with a fondness Charles knew Edwin reserved just for him.

Charles was positive though that he could do all of the things Edwin claimed they couldn’t. 

He knew at times he could feel cold, and sick. The deep chill settling into his bones, the wheeze he could sometimes feel when he took breaths he didn’t actually need to take. Once in a while, if he turned the wrong way something would pinch in his side around his ribs, or his head would throb for a moment. There wasn’t a catalyst, and he knew he was more sensitive to temperature because of how he died.

He never slept, but it was easier for him to find relaxation in the darkness of his closed eyes than Edwin ever would. He would doze on the couch, if they took the train, anytime they took an outing. 

He especially loved parks. 

Charles would insist they find a place to sit so Edwin could watch the living and Charles could close his eyes leaning against Edwin, laying his back on the grass with his legs draped over Edwin, or his head sometimes cradled in Edwin’s lap. 

Edwin would indulge him, telling him about the people he observed, and would even read sometimes. Every so often they would clasp hands, or Charles could feel Edwin’s fingers circling an ankle, or he’d feel thin graceful fingers stroking his hair. He might not feel the living or their things, but he could feel Edwin. Dozing was so easy in those moments. 

This day, Charles had been standing by their case board, hand gripping one of their note cards moving it from open to closed. Part of him faced the window, and he could feel the sun on his skin. He remembered the feeling of it, and the matter that made him a ghost flooded into those sun-kissed spots, filled with the warmth of his memories, and relaxation settled into his limbs. 

As his shoulders dipped, tension uncurled. The relaxation shifted, the heaviness of sleep oozed through him. He’d see if he could tempt Edwin into a park day soon, satisfied in knowing he could sleep and Edwin could also take some time to decompress.

He worried for Edwin, nearly constantly, and in varying degrees, since their time in Port Townsend, and learning about the previous relatively unspoken 70 years of Edwin’s afterlife in Hell. He knew, as easily as he knew his own name, that Edwin needed a break.

As he had picked the next card, reading through the delicate handwriting outlining quick notes of the case, Crystal had come into the office, fanning herself with her hands before sweeping her hair back, trying to get as much of it as she could off her neck. She collapsed onto the couch with a grimace. It was hot. The office. The couch. Everything and anything, really.

Charles glanced at Edwin, smiling, who had been sitting behind their desk. There was a small huff, Edwin shifting his gaze from Crystal to Charles as if to say both “the living,” and “what do we do?”

Easily, Charles replied to Crystal they could look at getting fans, as air conditioning would be difficult for such an old building. However, he kept watching Edwin.

Edwin looked…uncomfortable? Flushed? Tired? Charles tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t any of those exactly, it was something else. Edwin, he found, was extremely good at hiding his emotions, except annoyance, and his discomfort. This time the vague sense of Edwin being uncomfortable was different. While Edwin and Crystal had debated the best ways to keep cool, including getting a fan, Charles kept his attention on his partner.

The conversation moved into the case, Crystal having exhausted her options and Edwin having run out of patience. As Edwin reached for the case file from a pile on the desk Charles saw the moment, the moment in between the moments. He could see the folder through Edwin’s fingers. Charles stepped forward, and there must have been something in the way he had moved that had Edwin looking up at him. 

Charles paused. He saw Edwin’s gaze unfocus, before sliding a vacant expression to the case file. In the skipped beat between Edwin catching his eye and turning to the folder, Charles could feel the anticipation ebbing and flowing within him as he stood arrested, waiting.

When the file opened, and Edwin began outlining the expectations and situation to Crystal, Charles felt a prickling sensation in his skin, he wiggled his fingers, felt his calves tighten wanting to lurch forward for what he knew was inevitable. Edwin, Charles realized, hadn’t figured it out yet.

To Charles, it felt like hours before Edwin gently closed the file, handing it to Crystal who had come to stand beside Edwin at the desk. Charles saw her arch a brow slightly and he knew she was trying to puzzle something out. 

As she passed him on the way to the door, Crystal stopped and they were side-by-side. Their arms brushed and she didn’t look at him, still facing the door, Charles facing the desk, and he felt her hand grasp at his and squeeze. Charles squeezed back, gaze trained on Edwin as he quietly, steadily, asked Crystal to give them, he and Edwin he meant, some time. 

She replied she’d follow up after her part of the case, and they both moved, Crystal to the door, flipping the recently acquired open/closed sign to “closed” and locking the door behind her, and Charles to Edwin.

In the steps to the desk, Charles saw color surface on Edwin’s face, heat blooming on his cheeks and down his neck to his ears. He saw the dazed expression slide over Edwin’s features, and the slight tremble starting in his fingers as he held another case file, the material bending as his grip tightened. The tremble moved up to Edwin’s shoulders, his chest, before it looked as if Edwin could vibrate apart.

There was a small gasp of surprise from Edwin just as Charles reached out. He had intended to pull Edwin to him, but Charles' hands met empty air and a pop of light illuminated the space where Edwin had sat.

Charles wasn’t sure what had caused the shift, it could have been any number of things, and it didn’t matter. Edwin was exhausted, psychologically spent, and currently settled into the desk chair as a small orb, a faint golden light pulsing in time with what Charles believed to be a heartbeat. Periodically, the light would tint with a pale blue hue.

He scooped Edwin up in his cupped hands, pulling the orb close to his chest. While they were vulnerable in this state they weren’t delicate, but Charles treated him as such as he wrapped his hands tightly around Edwin, padding softly to the couch, and squished himself into the cushions.

It was rare this happened to either of them. Charles hated seeing Edwin push himself to the point of change, but there was a pleasant thrumming of adoration that nearly paralyzed him as he held the pure essence, the soul, of Edwin Payne gently in his palms.

He wasn’t sure if Edwin could hear him but as he slouched back, legs extended into the office space and hugging Edwin to his heart, he whispered to him and ran a finger across the orb as if to run fingers through Edwin’s hair, and closed his eyes.

Crystal, file in hand, entered the office. The sign was still showing “closed” and the door was still locked. Since she’d last seen them she had done as much of the up front work as she could, and needed their help. She was surprised neither Edwin or Charles had mirror hopped to her apartment to check in; Edwin was rather impatient at times, and despite giving them over a day to make an appearance she was also eager to close the case.

The office was quiet. The lights were still on, the desk as she had last seen it with the files stacked neatly to one side although one of the files was askew in the center. The desk chair was pushed back, and the door with the case board was open. She turned, looking around, and was about to leave thinking they’d both gone out, exasperation tugging at her expression and shifting her shoulders when she saw a soft, unfamiliar light rebounding off the polished wood floor by the couch.

Stepping further into the room and peering over the low wall to the couch she tilted her head, mouth parting into an “O” as she saw two glowing orbs nestled on the couch each one pulsating in turn. 

They were beautiful. The glow of one, periodically tinted red, would catch up to the other. The calm increase then decrease in light would be the same in both before settling back into a varying rhythm. Then the other would follow soon after, the glow of the pair beating in time, before falling out of sync.

Without thinking, Crystal made her way to the couch and carefully, as not to disturb either of them, sat beside the glowing forms of Edwin and Charles. Her hands hesitated over them both, the protective desire to hold them making her fingers twitch. She smiled fondly, but held back, knowing how much Edwin would protest being touched or held by anyone other than Charles. 

She pulled her phone out of her bag and popped in ear buds while softly, lovingly, telling them she’d keep an eye on them. She let the sentiment curl around them, she hoped they could hear it.

Her heart beat. The orbs pulsed brightly in time.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

[flowerfreya]

Best 3/4

Part 9 of the office AU

Masterlist

The boys figured that they need to lay off reader and the best way to do that is to back with their ex (boys are dumb)

Pairing : Poly!141 x reader

A/n: sorry there’s a lot of Simon x reader , he’s my comfort character and my fav trope is I har everyone but you and he gives that so much. I’m not the best writer so I have trouble with flow sometimes so bare with me

You’ve been working for 141 industries for about 2 months now, it’s nice to have your own. Own money, your own car, and your own apartment. You think that the boys have gotten back with their ex, and that is making you feels some things that if you didn’t care you shouldn’t feel.

Their ex only seems to like all of them except for Simon , he seems almost like an afterthought to her. She rolls in the office, always leaves the front door open and just waltzes into John’s office , without even an ask to see if he’s in a meeting.

“I’m sorry ,he’s in a mee-”, she interrupts you with a wave and a fake smile, goes in and shuts the door and closes the blinds. You huff out a breath and look up to see Simon staring at you , letting out a small shrug. Simon and you both stand up, it’s lunch time. Everyday at the same time , you get up and eat lunch , whether that is in the breakroom or getting something to eat at a fast food place. Simon started joining you a little over two weeks ago, you noticed that Simon doesn’t really bring lunch just eats shit out of the vending machine.

You started making and packing extra food for him.

“I have extra food today, if you want some”, you sit down at the same table next to him.

“`M good”, as he opens a bag of chips.

“Please just eat, I always make too much food”, shoving the food towards him. He gives you a look and you give him a small smile and nod your head towards the food.

“So, how long have you guys been dating”, you wave your hand in a you know who gesture.

He makes a hum noise, “who?”

“The women in Price’s office” .

“Oh,I guess our girlfriend”.

“She doesn’t seem to like to hang out with you”

“Yeah, well I’m not the best guy”.

“I beg to differ”, you think that Simon is the nicest guy you’ve met. He helped you when he really didn’t have too and likes to eat lunch with you and appreciates your food too.

You hear a shrill , “Receptionist”,she can’t even remember your name. She kind of slaps the table like she’s hitting a bell. You see her just standing there , waiting for you.

“Yes”

“I need you to clear John’s schedule for tomorrow afternoon”

You turn to look at John in office with the door shut, focused on his computer,”Uhh does John now about this”, you question.

“Of course, sweetie”, she is using her fake customer voice , you know because you are using it too.

“ I think, I’m going to ask him , just in case”, you start to move in the direction of his office. No way he really wants to clear his schedule, you’ve never seen him take lunch. A whole afternoon off, no way.

You knock as you push the door open, “Hi, Mr.Price, just trying to fig-”,

“Not now”.

“Oh well I was-”

He looks up then with a harsh brown and a closed mouth speaking through his teeth , “Not now”.

It shocks you, he’s never talked to you like that but you have been talked to like that a lot. Your natural response is to quiet down and get out the way. You quietly back out the room and sit back down at your desk.

You look up at her still waiting for you to clear the schedule, “I guess it’s fine”

“Wonderful” , she has such a wide smile and is so pretty. You think you hate her.

“Opps almost forgot”, she walks to Soap and gives him a big kiss and you can definitely see tongue. You want to look away but you can’t help it , it’s enticing. She lets out a little giggle and wipes her mouth and then saunters out the door.

Simon is sitting there, no kiss received, and is staring at you.

[saintblk]

no bc my aomine brainrot never stops girlie!!! that man? the horniest out there, doesn't even bother stripping (himself or you) before fucking you stupid 😩

PUH LEASE the hold this man has on me is TERRIBLE.

cw: vulgar language, sexual intercourse, reader is degraded:P

he’s got zero patience, hates waiting for the most simple stuff. so when he finds himself with an agonizing tent in his pants, he wastes no time pulling you away from what you’re doing for his own sexual gratification.

it doesn’t help that he’s aroused by damn near everything you do. in this case, he’s watching you grind on your friends at a party he didn’t want to attend. you’re wearing a dress that’s far too tight and far too short, and he can’t help but think it should be him pressed up against you instead of some chick he didn’t bother remembering the name of.

it isn’t long before he’s getting up, grabbing your hand and leading you out the house. he’s ignoring your line of questioning and your complaints. you were having fun? you just got there? too bad — he’s horny:(

he lets you slide into the passenger seat as he plops down on the driver’s side. but aomine quickly decides he can’t wait until you’re home. he pulls you over the console and onto his lap before you can protest and when you do, you’re shut up by the feeling of his fingers slipping past your panties.

in just a few moments, his dick is out, your panties have been pushed to the side, and he’s bullying his way past your tight walls. his starting pace is relentless and cruel, helping you bounce on his member with a harsh grip on your bottom.

“s’too much!” you sob, yet you still lift yourself up just for him to pull you back down.

aomine, too busy watching your bodies connected, tsked in annoyance.

“shut up,” he growls. “your fault anyway…”

he tugs the neck of your dress down, giving him access to your nipples. his teeth prod and bite at your skin, earning him a cry out and a clench around his shaft.

“dressed like a fuckin’ slut,” he groans and sinks his teeth into your neck. “you can take it like one then, yeah?”

his first nut gives him enough clarity and self control to drive the two of you home. in the passenger seat, you lay your head against the window, drained and fucked out. yet despite your obvious need for sleep, he’s not nearly done with you. when you step through the door to his place, he’s pushing you up against the nearest wall and having his way with you again.

2023 ©️ all rights reserved by saintblk (me) | do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission

[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay, any of ur yautja OC reacting to low spice tolerance GN reader eating spicy food, and they’re just a mess after the first bite, tongue on fire, lips numb and their chugging anything that’s liquid, but still continuing eating the spicy food, it just sounds funny asf. 😹

Low Tolerance

Pairing: Uihoy (male Yautja) x Vic'tao (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1823

Summary: Between the three of you, only Vic'tao loves and even craves hot foods. When he has to chance to take the two of you to an upscale restaurant, he snatches it up. He's only able to get take out but he doesn't complain. You didn't realize how much heat Vic'tao could handle.

Author Note: I don't know if you know me in real life because this is me. Mild is too hot for me. I cannot handle spicy food once-oh-ever. I'll start to flop over and die.

Masterlist

Ao3

Both of your feet were thrown over the armrest of the copilot chair. A tablet sat in your hands, occupying your mind until Vic’tao returned to the ship. Uihoy was in the captain’s chair and going through all of the checks of the ship. You peeked over your device to stare at the handsome, bulky form of Uihoy. He was leaned forward, typing away at the console in front of him.

In the light of the ship, his purple scales reflected the light. You couldn’t help the soft smile to spread across your features, head tilting slightly to the side. How did you get so lucky with not one but two amazing mates? They had stumbled into your life unexpectedly. Here you were now, the third addition to their small group. The best mates you could ever ask for.

“Why is little ooman giving Uihoy that look?” the purple Yautja spoke up without taking his bright eyes off of the console. Whoops, caught red handed.

Heat bloomed to life under your cheeks but you didn’t look away from him. “Can’t your mate not admire the catch I’ve caught?” you drawled with a cheeky smirk. Uihoy huffed with his upper two mandibles quirking up. Ah, you got him.

A hum tumbled out of his throat. “Yes, little mate can. But if looking continues, might as well come over here. Uihoy feels a bit… lonely.” You rolled your eyes and closed the case on your tablet.

“Vic’s been gone for less than five minutes. You’re already lonely?” you teased him, a sparkle in your eye. It was a hard draw between the two of them on who’s the most needy. Each have their differences. Both need their own requirements met every day. That’s not a complaint. You loved them. You would do a lot for them.

Uihoy took his eyes off of the screen in front of him to turn his direction at you. A small pout molding his features. You sighed dramatically before slipping off the chair. The tablet was left on the seat. You meandered over to the hunk and stopped in front of him. A short purr left his throat. He leaned back and invited you to his lap.

Just like before, you sat in the same position. The best position to relax in. Uihoy carded his thick fingers through your hair and let his hand sit against your scalp. You leaned against it and let your eyes drift shut. Comfortable.

“Vicky better hurry his yellow ass up because I’m starting to starve!” you groaned and reopened your eyes in a dramatic flip of your head. “What’s even this place called again?” All you remember as Vic raved on about the restaurant was the fact it was best place for food. He said he was lucky to be able to get take out from them. Though, it would’ve been better to sit down. Not that he knew but it was an educated guess.

His claws carefully ran down your scalp. You instantly were mesh in his hold. “The best translation to English is ‘Mama’s Fish Bowl’,” Uihoy answered your question. You couldn’t help the snort and peered up at him with a raised brow. “Don’t judge the name before trying the food. Little ooman may regret it.”

Not that you were making fun of the name, but it’s such a… cliché. You believed the translation was off. Some languages just didn’t work with English over even any other language on earth.

Both Vic and Uihoy were well adverse in a lot of languages. But, even they will fall back onto their translator for a smooth transition. Maybe, this was one of those times the language just doesn’t work.

“What kind of food do they serve?” At first, you didn’t think anything wrong with that but realized different pallets and culture. Of course, the food was safe for you. This isn’t going to be like asking if it was like Italian or Mexican. This was an alien cuisine. That didn’t stop you from being curious. What type of food was it like?

He continued to softly scratch at your scalp, making you putty in his hands. “That’s for little hunter to find out when Vic’tao comes back.” You sighed and rolled your eyes again. Damn him. Your eyes drifted shut as you turn your head towards Uihoy and looked up at him. “But trust when said this is damn good food.” Another smile broke across your features.

You lifted a hand to cup his jaw. “I do. A lot. I trust both of you with my life.” He tilted his head to nuzzle against your palm. A short chuff came from the giant.

“What are the two love doves doing without me?” A familiar voice filtered into the space. You twisted around in Uihoy’s lap to see Vic’tao strolling into the cockpit. Both of hands full with bags. Your eyes widened at the sight. The two of them ate a lot but that much food should feed the two of you for a few days. Perfect, leftovers!

A groan escaped you. “Finally, you’re back! We’ve been waiting years,” you taunted him with a grin showing off your teeth. The yellow Yautja scowled at you and strolled further into the room.

Both of the bags were set down on the chair you once sat in. Then, the male spun on his heel and was strutting away. “Uie, you want Cn’tlip?” Your face scrunched up at the name of their beer. It was disgusting. Uihoy chirped his answer. Vic was gone again, heading to the kitchen for said drinks. You only had what was safe for a human. Water and some sort of carbonated drink that tasted like Pepsi. Once in a while, they’ll be able to pick up what tasted like Sierra Mist. That stuff was a special occasion though since it cost so much and was rare.

As soon as Vic was gone, he was already back. The beer like drink soared through the air. Uihoy snapped his hand out and snatched it cleanly through the air. Your soda was also thrown across the room. You barely had enough time to reach out and clumsily catch it. “Vic’tao! Careful,” you scolded and glared at the laughing Yautja.

The male made his way back over to the chair. Take out boxes were set out. Some of it left inside of the bags. This felt like a classic moment back at home. You would be alone in your apartment, having take out after a grueling day at work.

Two boxes were set down in your lap. You quirked a brow before Uihoy set the beer in a cupholder and grabbed the top one. “That for little hunter.” A purple finger pointed at the white box left in your lap. You opened the box, eyes scanning over the contents.

Steam first met your nostrils before your eyes began to water. You held back a cough. “Ehm… is this spicy?” you questioned and looked over Vic to turn your head away from the flavors trying to kill you.

Said Yautja peered over his shoulder. “Yes, mild though.” He opened a box and took a lung full of the scent. Then, he paused. “Wait… C’jit. You’re ooman.” You raised a brow and snorted. After all this time, it still slips his mind. Never in a dangerous, harm situation though. Never.

“It’ll be fine. I think. I’ll just give it a try. How about that?” you attempted to resolve the situation. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. Yet, here you are, with a low tolerance. You instantly knew you were going to regret this entirely. But, the two of them went out of their way to get food, specially food for you that’s human safe.

Vic’tao gave you a skeptical look. Uihoy’s hand tightened in your hair. “You don’t have to eat it if you know it’ll hurt you.” You gave the Yautja a look.

“I’ve got this. Promise.” He looked a little longer at you before relenting and returning to his own buffet in front of him. You looked down at your food and took a deep breath in. Yes, you were going to feel pain. A lot of pain in less than five minutes.

You picked up the utensil and dug into the noodle like dish. The noodles were main red and orange colors, much different then what you’re used to back home. Despite the heat, the smell of it was delicious. No wonder this place was a hit if you couldn’t tell by the scent. Then, you carefully scooped the noodles off of the fork.

At first, flavors bursted on your tongue. You groaned and leaned against Uihoy. God, this was the best food you’ve had in a long time.

Then, your lips began to go numb. The rest of your mouth bursted into flame. Your jaw dropped as you tried to cool it down by breathing heavily.

“You good?” Vic’tao laughed while watching this unfold in front of him. “I told you, you don-“ you interrupted him by raising a hand.

“All finah. Ah eak. Goo… good,” you choked out and started to chug down the closest drink to your hand. But… that only made it worse. You winced before downing some more noodles. There were some hardy choices you are regretting at the moment. Despite the heat though, the flavors were amazing.

Drool started to drip from the corner of your numb lips. You slurped it back up and tried to finish off your drink only to find out it was gone. You find the second closest drink and started to down it as well. The taste fought off the heat for only a moment.

It only got worse. You quickly packed up the box, threw in back into Uihoy’s lap as you sprinted to the kitchen. “Muy mouf is on firer!” you screamed and about smacked into the cockpit door when it didn’t open. You slipped past and gone you were.

By the time you returned, the fire was mostly subdued. You slowly walked back into the cockpit, a slice of bread in your hand. Both of your mates were holding back their laughter and watched you. You held up the piece. “I found bread,” you mumbled through still numb lips.

Uihoy nodded and hummed. “How’s the mouth?” Your eyes narrowed on his purple scales. You bit off another chunk of the bread. It helped fight off the heat.

“Fine.” You climbed back into Uihoy’s lap without another word and slow chomped down on the noodles again. Your bread helping along the way.

[prentissluvr]

literary parallels — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : light angst, fluff ➖⟢ cw : small injuries, few seconds of physical fighting (self-defense), no use of y/n, you have a dad and i gave him a name (rick lol), mentions of death of loved ones, sort of case fic, kinda ignores canon timeline in terms of a few minor things but canon doesn't matter much in this fic lol, poorly edited most likely ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K summary : sam is someone from your past at stanford university, and the last place you expect to see him again is on a case. that's exactly where you find him. i plan on doing a part two for this one in the future! :))

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

today is one of those days where the reality of your life feels strange, unwelcome, and somewhat foreign. it’s not as if you’re new to the hunting life; it’s just the opposite, and yet, you often feel removed from it, especially after having lived normally at college for a few years. but you were ripped back into hunting without being able to finish your degree by your father after the death of your closest cousin. 

so now you’re cooped up in a crappy motel room searching endlessly through detailed lore websites and the few books you have on you, trying to make sense of the odd patterns of killings in the small california town. that’s part of the pit in your stomach for today; the beach town, cayucos, is only three hours from stanford. 

being so close to your former university after almost a whole year brings back a whole lot of mixed feelings. mostly longing for the normalcy that you loved and lost, but also a renewed urgency to find what killed your cousin. she had been studying at a different college just an hour inland from you. when she died, you had wanted to salt and burn her body and move on. but when your father showed up with proof of odd circumstances, he pursuaded you to rejoin him in the hunting life.

the deaths in cayucos are certainly odd, but they lack the defining features that would allow you to identify the creature at fault. so, you’re searching for anything with a grudge against hot men and a killing cycle of seven years since those are about the only patterns so far. your dad is at the coroner’s office, meeting with an old hunter friend to check out the body of the latest victim.

that’s been another reminder of your brief time at a normal school with normal friends and normal hobbies. when your dad first told you he called in a friend to help, he’d asked you, “d’you remember john winchester? you met him once when you were a kid, he’s an old buddy of mine.” you shook your head and he shrugged, saying something about how it makes sense; you were young and only met him once. but the name stuck in your mind as he left, and it had nothing to do with hunting or when you were a kid on the road, stuck in motels, school if you were there long enough, or the town library if you were lucky.

that name, or the last name anyway, comes from the stanford part of your life, the one you keep cherished in the most protected corners of your heart. sam winchester was one of your few friends during your time there, and after hearing his family name spoken aloud, he’s floating through your mind all day.

he disappeared after jess, his girlfriend and one of your other few friends, died, mere weeks before your own cousin died and you left standford as well. you’ve always wondered what happened to him, the best conclusion you could come to being that he couldn’t bear her death. they were absolutely in love with each other, but you know jess would have wanted him to finish at stanford, then head to that law school he was bound to get that full-ride to. sam always had an air of strength about him, so it surprised you when you never saw him again. he wasn’t even at her funeral, and to this day, that’s your singular bone to pick with him. 

but, you can’t afford to think about him too much as you search for answers about the case. abandoning the lore websites for the meantime, you look over the police records of all the deaths that you can find, hoping to draw together any more patterns that you can use to narrow down your research. you’re jotting down a few notes, thinking you may have found something regarding accounts of a few of the men being last seen with a woman, when your train of thought is interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

on instinct, you draw your gun as you cross the room, looking through the peephole and silently cursing when you realize the light out front has gone out. all you can make out is the tall, broad silluete of a man thanks to the dimness of the twighlight sky.

you wait for a moment at the door, hoping he’ll just walk away after he doesn’t get an answer. but you’re unlucky, and he knocks again before calling out, “hello? rick sent me here to … help with the case, he said his kid was here. i’m john winchester’s son, sam.”

if you were in an old-timey cartoon, your jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. sam … sam winchester. it sounds just like him. trying to keep your head, you swap your gun for a nearby canteen of holy water and slip a silver knife into your pocket for accessibility. it’s too much of a coincidence for you to believe it.

you crack the door, just enough for him to hear you a bit better. “sam winchester? like stanford full-ride, lawyboy sam winchester?”

“i– how do you–” there’s a moment of silence, and you know that he’s piecing together the few clues he has; your voice and the last name you must share with your dad, the man he knows as rick. his voice is just as cautious as yours as he says your name like he can’t really believe it.

for a moment, you stop thinking when you hear his voice saying your name after so long, and you throw open the door and let him in. the light from the motel room finally illuminates his face, and it’s him, it’s really him. and the moment you think that is the moment you realize that could absolutely not be the case.

the second he turns to you from closing the door, you’re splashing holy water in his face so fast you barely catch the look he was about to give you; eyes so full of surprise and wonder and confusion and something akin to joy. you react quickly to his lack of reaction besides the normal surprise at getting splashed in the face, slashing at his arm with your silver knife to finish testing him. but he reacts just as fast as you, grabbing both of your wrists, spinning you around and pinning you to the flat surface of the door.

his hold is quite strong, but he doesn’t have the time to bear his full weight into holding you down before you react, so you’re able to manuever out of his hold with practiced ease. you lift one arm up as you yank the other down to make it so you’re able to slip down and to the side, out of his hold. then you’ve got a strong hand to his back, shoving him face-first against the door and your other arm bringing your knife to his throat.

the thought that his profile view with his pulled-taut eyebrows and the grimace on his mouth looks pretty has the audacity to float up to the forefront of your mind before you can squash it down. the whole struggle had taken mere seconds, and he resigns the minute you’ve got him pinned down.

“it’s me,” he pants, “i swear. ‘m not a shapeshifter or ghoul or anything, it was just instinct. sorry,” he explains quickly, “go ahead, test me.”

you debate saying “don’t mind if i do,” but decide that you don’t have to be teasing or snarky about it. instead, you tamp down your hesitance to hurt him, even a little bit because he still sort of feels like innocent, regular, lawboy sam to you, and you draw a thin line of blood at the spot where his neck slopes into his broad shoulder. there’s no burning, just a normal wince from his mouth, so you loosen your hold on him and step back, internally cringing at the small bit of blood beginning to slip down towards his collarbone.

“sorry,” you say, far more sincere than you would be if it’d been anybody else. this is the norm for hunters, but you haven’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that sam is a hunter. you’d never once would have guessed, though you suppose that was the point. you had done everything you could to hide that part of your life during your time at stanford.

“it’s fine,” he gives you an awkward half-smile, just as sincere as you. “just, y’know, your turn.” you’d been so busy taking in the sight of him standing there, looking almost exactly the same, but not quite, as he had in college, that you forgot about the courtesy of testing yourself too.

“right,” you clear your throat, “of course.” without the hesitance any normal person would have, you take the knife to your forearm and splash a bit of holy water on your skin. “there we go. no demons or shapeshifters or the like. that’s good.” you feel incredibly awkward all of the sudden, still so bewildered and thrown off balance by the collision of your two words. it feels like too much of a coincidence for you to be this close to your old school, be thinking about sam winchester, a symbol of that old life, then for him to show up and flip your whole entire understanding of him. there’s just about a million things running through your mind at just about a million miles per hour and it’s starting to make your head hurt.

the movement of his hand, reaching up to hold the small cut you gave him is what brings you out of your short lived reverie.

“god, i’m sorry. let me get you something for that.” you don’t give him the time to politely tell you, “no, it’s okay,” like you know he would before you’ve turned your back and crossed the room to grab a first aid kit from your bag and some rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. “sit down,” you urge him when you turn back to him, motioning towards the table you’d been seated at when he arrived.

he complies and once again, you’re thinking about the strangeness of sharing this sort of space with him. you’re used to seeing him in libraries so big that they’re almost grand for quiet study sessions or in the dining hall with his nose buried in a book or in the lecture hall where you first met him in a gen-ed class. you’re used to seeing him on one of the grassy quads with jess by his side or him in the big, open, and fancy old university buildings. now he looks right at home in the dingy motel room, so small it feels like his tall, broad frame shouldn’t fit in here, so dim that his sometimes blue or green eyes look sort of muddy. they’re pretty, nonetheless.

you set the first aid kit on the table and pull out a large bandaid and a bit of gauze. you reasses the cut to be sure he doesn’t need any other sort of bandaging and almost sigh in relief when you see how shallow it is. sam doesn’t speak or protest that he’s fine to do it himself as you pull the collar of his t-shirt aside just a bit. you’re sure his mind’s busy with a whole load of questions for you, just like you for him. the brush of your knuckles against his skin suddenly makes his presence feel more real. whatever contact you’d had during the short-lived fight you’d had was completely surreal; you weren’t sure he was really even sam, and if he was, it would feel like a lie anyways, for his hands to be rough or so quick in a fight.

he doesn’t so much as wince when you press alcohol soaked gauze to the cut, and though the wound is small and shallow enough that you’re sure it barely stings, it still feels like a sign of his being a hunter, being used to pain. you don’t like that thought; sweet, sincere, and ever so smart sam being used to pain. as you take care of the cut, he lets his eyes wander around the room, probably taking in how familiar it is, and how weird that it’s your motel room and all of your belongings packed into a single bag and your computer screen displaying hacked into police reports and the very same lore websites he frequents to solve a tricky case.

when you’re done he thanks you with a small smile and you take the seat across from him. as your fingers had brushed over his bare skin and felt a whisper of his strong shoulders, you’d gotten the strong urge to hug him. you missed him even more than you thought. that urge doesn’t leave when you move away from him.

you make a confused face at sam when he reaches for the first aid kit and pulls out another set of bandaids and gauze. he just hands you a gauze now soaked with alcohol and nods at you.

“for your arm,” he explains, because you’ve already forgotten about that as you accept it with a questioning brow.

“right,” you chuckle softly, swiping over the cut with the gauze, then taking and applying the bandaid that sam opened for you. when you’re done you have to drag your eyes up to meet sam’s gaze. there’s tension in the room, and though it’s not bad per se, it’s begging to be addressed and you’re not sure how to even start. it seems like sam’s not sure either.

so, you choose to jump right into the fire.

“it’s so good to see you, sam,” you confess, pushing all your sincerity into your voice, “i mean, this is absolutely insane and i can’t quite wrap my mind around it, but i guess i don’t really care because it’s so good to see you. i worried about you so much after … after jess died, i mean, you just dissappeared and … and i can imagine that has something to do with the fact that you’re a hunter, which is sort of incomprehensible to me, but–,” suddenly you’re hit with a new realization. if sam’s disappearance had to do with the supernatural, you wonder if jess’s death did too. but you don’t want to ask, not right now. “oh, god, and i never got to tell you how sorry i am. i– i mean. i can’t imagine.” there’s where your voice trails off and you look to sam to be the one to say something now.

“thanks,” he answers simply, voice gentle but a little pained, rightfully so. “she was your friend, too. i mean, we were all friends. and i’m sorry i disappeared like that. i, um, well, you’re right. hunting dragged me away. it’s complicated and i’ll explain it to you later. you deserve to know what happened to jess, but– but it’s a lot.” a moment of silence allows that to sink in; so something did happen to her, something more than just faulty electrical wiring in her apartment. sam’s genuine as he goes on, “and it’s great to see you too, really. it’s so strange, i mean all of this, obviously, but it’s even stranger how close we are to stanford. i was already thinking about it, about you all on the way over, and the next thing i know, you’re the suspicious hunter throwing holy water in my face.” 

you cringe a little at that, but sam smiles a little wider than he has all night. “that’s a good thing,” he half-laughs, “i don’t care how weird this coincidence is, i’m glad for it.” his hand twitches, almost as if he’d wanted to reach over and grab your hand, but thought better of it before it could happen. “i gotta ask, did you finish your degree?” the way he asks is so hopeful, and you immediately know how much he wants the answer to be yes. he’s thinking, if i couldn’t finish, please tell me at least one of us could. that one of us poor and foolish hunter kids who thought we could escape managed to long enough to finish a degree, prove that we could make something of ourselves in the normal world. it would be so nice to see that, if it couldn’t be me, it could be somebody, it could be you.

his face falls a little when he registers the sad smile on your face. your expression is more than enough of an answer, and the fact that he wanted so badly for you to have made it makes your heart break a little, for both him and you. we deserved better, you think.

“just about the same thing happened to me,” you begin to explain, “you remember my cousin, bex?” sam nods, recalling the way the two of you acted like siblings the few times he met her, how much you liked alike when you smiled, already sad for what he suspects he might hear. “she died a few weeks after jess. she and i both grew up hunting, and we both thought we got out of it, at least for a little while. we almost lasted all four years … i didn’t think there was anything weird with her death, but … my dad showed me proof of just that at her funeral, convinced me to come back to hunting with him. she was– she was hiding something, and, honestly i’m still not sure what happened. progress on her case has been slow. real slow, so we’ve been working on others in the meantime. keeping busy, you know.”

“oh, i know,” sam sighs, and you completely believe him. you wonder for a moment what bigger things he’s digging into before deciding it’s best if the two of you stick to what’s in front of you. if you go too deep, having each other, a new kind of steady presence from better times, might start feeling too unreal again. 

you want to preserve this delicate balance, where sam is still stanford sam and you’re still stanford you, but now there’s just a deeper understanding of each other. a knowing of what it’s like to grow up with a hunter for a father, to want to get away from it all, to want a sense of normalcy, and to want to learn and become something more and say “screw you!” to all of the expections. and on top of that, knowing how it feels to get so close to the finish line, only to have it ripped out of your hands like you’re a child who’s parents think they’ve had too much candy. only it’s far worse than a half eaten lollipop in the trash because people that you love died, and it was all so much more than just chasing after a momentary sugar high. 

“i’m sorry about bex,” sam says, this time actually reaching out and placing his hand on yours for a moment. his voice is as full of empathy and sincerity as ever. “she was amazing the few times i met her. i could see how close you two were.”

“thanks, sam.” you give him a small smile because those words feel so much better coming from him than just about anyone else. with that, the air seems to settle a little, and it’s far more bearable. you’ve still got a hundred and one questions to ask and a hundred and one more things to say to each other, but to find out you have this near-exact shared experience is like having so much of the weight of loneliness lifted from your chest. and it all feels even better because you know sam. you know him already. 

sure, there’s a whole lot you missed before, but you don’t doubt for a second that the sam sitting in front of you is as kind, funny, smart, witty, sincere, adorably awkward, and good as the sam you met and came to know at stanford. in fact, knowing he grew up the way he did just reaffirms his goodness to you. it’s not easy to live like that and continue choosing to be kind and well-meaning and true to yourself. then there’s this feeling of admiration for sam, just blooming in your chest and you hold back a wide grin because the timing’s not quite right. you still can’t shake the urge to hug him.

“well,” you smile casually, if not a little rueful as you say your next words, “i think our dads will go all hunter-dad-crazy on us if we keep playing catch up. i’ll give you a run down of everything i’ve got, then we can do what dropouts from the west coast’s most prestigious school’s do best; research.”

sam’s smile matches your own, and it’s achingly familiar. “well, we can’t have those asses ruin our not-quite-stanford-alumni reuinion. let’s get to work. we can pretend it’s like the good old days, spring freshman year, all of us cramming for the way-er exam at the back of the library and getting shushed by the librarians. we can pretend john and rick are the librarians.”

for the first time in a long time, you let out a loud laugh, surprised and pulled right out of you without warning. he smiles wide at the sound and finally, without restraint, you grin back. god, you missed him.

[dokries]

venus

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: weird period era speech at one point, calling each other idiots lovingly, a few kisses

author note: okay so apparently i needed to write compensation after goldleaf so this is the fluff to make up for that 😭 special thanks to regina song for releasing the fangirl album cause this fic would not exist without it! lots of love 💗

masterlist

you come back with a water bottle to see your boyfriend staring at the abstract piece he stood by when he said he’d wait for you earlier. 

“figured out the secret, shua?” you sneak up from behind him, causing him to jump a little before he smiles when he realizes it’s you. joshua wraps a hand around your waist to pull you closer. 

you had been looking at this specific painting for a whole, trying to make sense of its contrasting strokes of blue and orange as best as the both of you could—after all, two minds are better than one, right? …yeah, no, not in your case, considering you were still stumped.

joshua turns back to the painting, and you take his sheepish grin as a no. a few moments later, he pokes your shoulder with wide eyes. “i think i figured it out!”

you raise an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue. he leans in and whispers into your ear, “i think it means i’m in love with you.”

you look at him from the corner of your eye, and can’t help but giggle at his silly remark, even if you’re already used to the cheesy lines your boyfriend says all the time. 

“is that because you’re the blue strokes in this piece, and i’m the orange that compliments you? hey, wouldn’t that be seungkwan…?” you trail off, suddenly remembering the boy from jeju you’re both friends with. 

your boyfriend shakes his head fiercely. “you first, always.” joshua brings your hand up to his lips, softly kissing the side of it with a wink—your cheeks turn into a red he loves more than any painting, and his laugh echoes throughout the exhibit. 

“you’re cute,” is all he says before taking a look at his fancy watch—you two had dressed up to seem more intellectual than you actually are—to check the time and he winces. “oh, we should leave, the museum closes pretty soon.” 

you nod before waving goodbye to the curator nearby, and walk outside to the hallway, joshua’s hand still interlocked with yours. his friends like to tease him for how they’ve never seen him not holding onto you, whether it’s your hand or arm—he could be very clingy at times if he wanted to annoy you (which he did more often than not).

however, you have no idea where you’re going once you turn into an unfamiliar hallway, lined with doors that lead to ballrooms, judging by their signs. you look back at joshua nervously but he only smiles. “oh darling, don’t worry. i’m sure there’s a map or something in case of an emergency here somewhere, right?” 

you split up to look for any indication of how to get back to the parking lot you came from, roaming up and down the hall after you call joshua a genius—he corrects you, saying he’s your genius only. a few minutes pass as you search along the walls before you hear your boyfriend calling your name. “over here!”

you follow his voice until you get to a partially open door, one that leads to an empty ballroom. this must’ve been used for an event earlier, considering that there’s still tables set up around the main section of the floor for dancing; the person in charge of cleaning it all up is probably on their break. 

you walk over to joshua, who’s standing in the middle of the open space, before whistling lowly. “wow, some fancy stuff must’ve happened here.”

joshua’s eyes sparkle like the huge light gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the numerous candles on it still lit up from the extravagant night, as he grabs your hand with his own, and twirls you around a couple of times before stopping with a giggle. “let’s dance!” 

so you do. though you have no music to listen along to, you make due with the sounds of your shoes hitting the ground, and joshua’s light humming of his favourite song at the moment. you spin and twirl, and you now wonder if your boyfriend’s had training in the waltz or something because of how well he’s leading you through the ballroom as you travel along the edges of the tables, the white cloths a whisper on your legs as they move away. 

you don’t know how long it takes for joshua to stop, his hair and clothes slightly untidy, and you suppose yours are as well. he bows, your hand still in his, mocking the period dramas you’ve watched with him. “my wondrous partner, i thank thee for this magnificent dance.” 

you giggle, bowing back to play along with his act, and speak softly. “why, my dear sir, i believe i must thank you instead! if it was not thee who led this dance, i would have been dancing as if my legs had been attacked by a donkey!” 

joshua looks at you in shock before laughing, falling into you as he does so. “what do you mean, a donkey?”

you shrug, wrapping your arms around him in a loose hug, which he returns. “hey, i don’t know! you’re the one who started the weird roleplay, not me.” 

he pulls back and grins at you before grabbing your cheeks gently to kiss you all over the face despite your protests. he stops when you chuckle, hands now pressing your cheeks together so you look like a little chipmunk. “oh, i love you so much, don’t i?”

you puff out your chest and roll your eyes. “well of course you do! i’m quite lovable, am i not?”

joshua smiles softly before placing a sweet kiss on your temple—thankfully, only one this time—murmuring, “yes, you really are.”

when your eyes soften as he pulls back, he smiles mischievously and adds on, “my little lovable idiot, that’s for sure.” 

you groan loudly. joshua really can’t go ten seconds without insulting you lovingly, can he? but you smile nonetheless, and pinch his cheeks as punishment, earning you whines of pain before you let go. “and you’re my lovable idiot, okay? no one else gets to call you that, not even jeonghan.”

your boyfriend chuckles at the mention of his best friend’s name, holding his pinky out. “i promise i won’t even let jeonghan call me that.”

you grin before intertwining your pinky with his, before placing a peck on his cheek. “good.”

[sleepingelvhen]

When Dragons Come

SFW/NSFW Headcanons for Zhongli, Neuvillette, and Dan Heng

Minors DO NOT interact

MASTERLIST

ZHONGLI

Zhongli, Geo Archon of Liyue. Also famously known as Morax if history books are any concern, which they are in most places. Some may say he seems stiff and stuck in his ways. Others describe him as calm and collected. History knows him as fair and a natural leader. Perhaps he is all of these things. What many don’t know is the more personal aspects of his life. Things you would discover when laying with this dragon lord.

SFW

Be prepared to be pampered by this dragon. He may not be well-off in terms of mora but he will make sure you are cared for and loved whenever you are in his presence.

He isn’t possessive or obsessive of his lover, he will trust them with his whole heart. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t slightly protective. The world is a dangerous place and he’s seen what people are capable of in his years, he will always make sure he knows where you will be just in case something happens. 

Zhongli can be a tad jealous at times. It’s never directed towards you at all. But if someone were to touch you or try to flirt with you, he would bring it up in a covert way that would be just enough to make the person uncomfortable and stop. Expect for him to guide you to another location and check up on you or to just kiss you.

Tea dates are the most common way of ‘going out’ with him. He can’t really afford much but he will make you a lovely bit of tea, or wine, or even some food for your own little dates. If there’s a festival going on, he will absolutely take you to see it and enjoy the festivities. Zhongli loves his country, and he wants you to as well. 

Zhongli will remember all the little details about you. What your favorite food is. Your favorite color. The name of your first pet. Everything about you will become important information for him to store away. This also means he will notice when something is off with you, he etches into his mind information about you in detail, if there’s something bothering you, he will know and he will find out what it is so he can try to help.

His love language is quality time, he would much rather spend time with you doing nothing than trying to buy extravagant gifts or drown you in praise. Not to say he won’t give you gifts or compliment you, he just enjoys time spent with you the most rewarding.

His clothes will not fit you, but he thinks it’s cute when you try to wear them anyway. Something about you attempting to wear his jacket, his pants, or even some of his older archon clothes is just adorable and a little silly to him.

NSFW

He is a gentle man, when not succumbing to his baser draconic needs. Oftentimes he enjoys just looking at you from above, taking in each detail of your form. This sometimes leads to him playing with your body in front of a mirror. He wants you to know how beautiful you are, desires for you to cherish the figure you hold. His eyes will keep finding your own when they are done devouring the sight of you. His fingers, with or without gloves, will always find a place to be. Whether his palm be holding onto your breasts or his fingers slowly playing with your cunt, he must always be touching you.

Zhongli is not an emotional man, while he cares dearly about those close to him, he does not express his feelings upon his sleeves. And as such, he doesn’t tend to speak much praises when laying with you. He is starstruck by you, nearly breathless, and would much prefer to stare as if you were a sculpted statue than to disrupt the quiet. Sometimes he may say that you are beautiful, or even murmur his love, but when he is taking you, he does not want to interrupt your moans.

Expect long and passionate kisses from him. He takes things slowly, wants to savor every second with you. His lips will hold your attention, his tongue rubbing soft circles inside your cheek. He will kiss down your neck, upon your chest, and below your naval. He will not bite for fear of hurting you, but rest assured, every single inch of skin will receive a long and loving kiss from him.

Things may change when his powers flare up. As a dragon of course he deals with issues of his own biology. It doesn’t happen often, but it causes him to take days to weeks of rest and time away. Long antler-like horns will sprout from his head, his eyes will glow golden, and his tail will show. In this form he takes to wearing lighter clothes, sometimes even forfeiting outfits entirely. You will find his teeth will have grown considerably sharper as well as his nails, scales glow upon his once smooth skin, his tongue seems to have a fork to it and…well his cock will grow slightly larger. It almost seems like there are ridges and scales that have taken place there as well.

Your once gentle Zhongli has left when this happens, now you see the true potential that is his suppressed powers of Morax. He hides his full Archon glory to fit in with the people of his home. But that is an exhausting practice when done too long, and when hit with the power he has suppressed, it causes him to become a little more aggressive with you. Now he is man-handling you; pushing you to the ground and licking every inch of your skin like you were his next meal. Which, in this case, you might as well have been.

He’s addicted to your pussy in this form, his mouth never once wanting to leave as his strangely mutated tongue delves deeper than he’d ever been able to before, his fingers holding your thighs still while he drinks up everything you have to offer. Zhongli is panting from your scent and taste, he seems to glow more when he looks up at you after he’s made you cum more than twice from just his tongue alone. 

When he towers over you, his tail will wrap around your leg, an echo of his care and the gentleness that still resides inside of him. Except he’s so overwhelmed and needy here. Your clothes won’t survive these moments, they’re torn to shreds as soon as he gets his claws on you. And just like himself, he will take a few moments to simply stare at your body as if you were the only thing in the world to him.

It doesn’t last long before he’s pressing himself into you, a deep growl rolling from his chest as he instantly slips into you, staring daggers into your eyes. He wants to make you scream and moan his name, he wants you whimpering and begging beneath him, and he will not make a noise so that he hears every little whine that leaves your lips.

His fingers will weave into your hair, holding your head so that you are staring into his eyes while making sure not to hurt you. Zhongli would never hurt you, no he wants you to see him loving your body even in this desperate and horny form.

When he gets close he presses his body closer to yours, kissing you passionately as he speeds up his thrusts, drowning out both your noises and the loud moans that begin to spill from his own mouth. He tries to keep quiet but it’s so hard not to gasp and growl in pleasure when he’s inside you and taking you like this. Fingers will caress your body, pressing against your clit while he snaps his hips into yours, begging you to finish with him, desperate to see the ecstasy upon your face. 

He won’t pull out. Perhaps it's the draconic hormones or his own personal preference, but he keeps inside of you long after he's done, just holding you close while pressing soft kisses into your shoulders. Either he will fall asleep like that or recuperate for the next many rounds after that, each one with him getting rougher and more needy until he finally wears you out. 

Zhongli loves caring for you after. In dragon form it may take a bit after he’s done to properly help you, but he always eventually gets to it. He will draw a warm bath filled with aromatic flowers and salts. He will brew a tea or perhaps a wine, preferably osmanthus, and if he has the energy he may cook up a quick meal or snack.

NEUVILLETTE

To be a dragon of justice is to be unwavering in judgment. It’s a tiring job but he’d not let the crowd see such feelings mar his face. You get to see these hidden irritations in the privacy of your home that you share. The irritation on his face, the tears that shimmer in his eyes but never fall, and the melancholy that seems to often follow him wherever he goes. You know the meaning behind the rain, and you know how he is behind closed doors. To everyone in Fontaine he is unfeeling and strict, to you he is kind and soft. But the ideal of judgment is unmoving in his mind and his heart.

SFW

He is always kind to you, not once has he made you doubt that. His hands are kind when holding you close, and often he wishes to hold your hand no matter where he is. Despite not wishing for public displays of his affections, he makes up for it in private when he holds you close and kisses you on the forehead, often apologizing for not giving you the attention he believes you deserve. 

Neuvillette always makes sure you have water near. Never once would you go thirsty or dehydrated, he will not allow it. And if you refuse, his voice may take a tone befitting of the judge he is. He doesn’t like being strict with you, but dehydration is a dangerous thing, and water is so delicious. Why shouldn’t you drink the different types of water he brings home for you to try?

Sometimes, after a tiring day at work, he may fall asleep on your lap. He loves when you run your fingers through his hair, and he will lay down to let you lightly scratch his head. You’ll find how quickly he will doze off, a little occasional huff of breath betraying his sleeping form. Perhaps it’s supposed to be his form of snoring, but his breathing is light and soft, sometimes accompanied by light humming, and his hand will always find your own.

He loves buying you gifts, always stopping by a shop on his way home from work to get you a little trinket or a snack he knows you like. They won’t be too expensive, he knows jewelry is a bit too extravagant a gift, but he wants you to know he’s thinking of you even when drowning in work. However, he prefers when you hug him or kiss him in response. He himself does not wish for gifts, he wants your physical affection in response. Be it hand holding, lingering hugs, or a kiss on the cheek.

Neuvillette is not a very protective man and far from possessive. He puts his trust into you and knows that you are safe in Fontaine. However, he can be a little obsessive at times. You are often on his mind, sometimes enough that he can get distracted or lost in his thoughts. He wants to be the first person you come to when you need help, and he wants to dress you up and cater to your every need. He will kneel before you when presenting a gift, take your hand to kiss it as if you were a princess, pick you up to carry you wherever you desire. Anything you ask, he would surely do anything within his power to make you smile.

Compliments, compliments, compliments. You will never part from him without knowing how much he cares for you. He whispers his affections into your ear, tells you how beautiful you are, and compliments you in every way he can. Neuvillette does not want you to ever doubt what he says, so he will shower you with compliments.

NSFW

As considerate and kind as always, Neuvillette makes sure to handle you with care. Whether it be laying you gently onto his bed before trying anything or lifting you to sit upon his lap so he can gaze upon your face, his hands are soft and kind and his eyes are full of love. He will consistently ask if you are okay, worried he is hurting you due to his larger than average size. It is easy for him to resist his urges, as long as you are happy and pleasured, he is fine.

Praises spill from his mouth consistently. While guiding you upon him or slowly taking you for himself, he will tell you how good you are doing, how beautiful you look, how wonderful you feel, it will never stop, he doesn’t want it to stop. You will know how good he feels inside of you, whether it be through his praises or the occasional soft moans that fall from his lips.

His hands will always be holding you in some way. He specifically loves holding your hips or kneading your breasts. Lips on your neck in gentle kisses or sucking on your nipples, he loves how soft you feel. He especially loves when your fingers are gripping his silky hair, he may even moan louder if you pull it. 

While gentle normally, as a dragon, of course he has baser and more primal needs. On occasion he may feel more needy, the long blue strands of his hair glowing alongside his eyes, perhaps his tail coming into view. He’s a dragon with fur rather than scales, his body soft to the touch, his tail thin with fur just like his hair decorating it. And his baser needs tell him never to leave you.

He wants to be careful, he always asks your permission, and this is when he tries hard to hold back. His hands will hold your legs around his waist while driving his cock into you, moans louder than you’d ever heard from him before. It’s almost like he’s whimpering, wanting more than he was allowing him to have.

When you give him permission, he cries out into your neck, rutting harder into you, pressing your body into the bed you share. He wants you to grip painfully into his hair, wants you to bite his neck and drag your nails down his back. He doesn’t want to hurt you, his lips upon your neck gently sucking so as not to leave marks. It’s an overwhelming feeling, breeding you, perhaps it may begin raining outside while he fucks harder and harder into you, lifting your legs and pressing you nearly in half to finish deep inside.

Neuvillette can go for hours with you, the desperate desire to breed you running strong for days. While dealing with this issue, you're on his mind all day. While he can hide his draconic features, breaks in between trials are needed for him to keep himself under control. But his hand is never enough. No, he needs you. If only he could have you sitting upon his lap while he works, if only you could be there waiting for him to take you over his desk whenever the desire consumed him. 

Neuvillette loves having you cockwarm him or suck him off at work. If you were to visit him, he could have you beneath his desk, pleasing him when he takes certain clientele in his office. It’s exciting how dangerous and naughty it was. He knew it was probably uncouth to indulge in such baser desires, but you felt so good, and his mind goes blank when you play with him.

DAN HENG

Long ago he was known as the Imbibitor Lunae, Dan Feng, the High Elder of the Vidyadhara. But that was a long time ago, a time Dan Heng has put far behind him in this new life. But his past incarnations' actions still affect many to this day. You notice the far off look in his eyes on occasion, you notice his need to be alone, but you also notice the times when he can’t stop his draconic form from taking place. Supposedly it's a reaction to what Dan Feng did all those years ago – trying to allow the Vidyadhara to procreate rather than reincarnate. 

SFW

Dan Heng is the solitary type, everyone around him was quite aware of that fact. His affection towards you was a surprise. Though it wasn’t obvious at first that the two of you were a couple. He’s not the publicly affectionate type aside from occasionally brushing his hand upon yours and the immediate action of using his body to protect you when things go wrong. It took a while for March to notice how Dan Heng would occasionally poke you or guide you when walking or how he would always make sure you were on missions together. 

When alone, he enjoys your company. Silence is preferable but if you're the talkative type, he will gladly listen to any rant as long as it's from you. He seems to have endless patience for what you have to say despite getting easily exhausted around others. Dan Heng may look at you while you talk or work on his own things, giving you the occasional nod or hum so you know he’s listening. If you sit in mutual silence, he will check that you're still there, or find a way to sit close to you while doing his own thing. He especially loves reading with you.

Nightmares plague him quite often, so on the nights you stay in his room, you may get woken up by him shooting up in the night. But his quickened heartbeat calms when he notices you are near him, and his hand seeks you out in his fear filled state, searching for the comfort and calm that your company brings him. 

Dan Heng gets flustered easily. All you have to do is kiss him, say or do something romantic or flirty and he’s a blushing mess. He’ll be at a loss for words, probably looking away and covering his face from how pink he becomes. Rarely will he respond with something equal, more often than not, he will brush his knuckles against your own, desperate to show you that he likes when you flirt with him but nervous all the same. 

He’s not the jealous type, though it makes him a bit uncomfortable if someone were to flirt with you, it doesn’t make him angry or visibly upset. Neither is he overly protective despite his desire to see you safe. However, he has a hidden tendency and desire to possess you. It’s something he keeps deeply hidden, something even he’s afraid of. But there’s a small want inside him to keep you all to himself. This desire is only strengthened when his Vidyadhara form takes over.

NSFW

It’s a rather new development in his body when the desire hits him. Similar to that of a rut or heat, it's a huge wave of pure desire and need and Dan Heng cannot control it even if he tried. His Vidyadhara form will appear out of nowhere and all of a sudden you are either on the floor or against a wall with him nibbling your neck and groping your body with newly sharpened nails. His theory is that it’s because of Dan Feng’s meddling with the Vidyadhara reincarnations, his hopes of allowing a natural reproduction possibly succeeding in a way. Dan Heng doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he wants to try, he needs to try.

He’s too impatient to take off his or your clothes, he has your legs wrapped around his waist while simultaneously fiddling with his waistbands to let himself free. Already he is wracked with labored breaths, groaning just from cloth shuffling against his hardened shaft. He may ask for your help, whimpering when you touch him. It may seem like he’s ready to dominate you, but he’s still Dan Heng. He still wants for your touch, still desperate for your company, and his little whimpers and shivers tell you all you need to know.

All you have to do is ask him and he will allow you to be on top, he will do what you say to make you feel good despite the impatience that floods his body. He doesn’t want to wait but he will, even when you tease him. Your hands gliding feather–light against his skin, fingers barely touching his leaking cock while you look at him with those sensual eyes. His voice is desperate but breathy, anything but loud. He’ll buck his hips up into your hands, gasping and on the verge of begging you to give him what he wants.

Don’t tease him for long, his impatience will wear thin and you will find yourself on your stomach, pressed into the nearest surface while he bites down on the back of your neck. Dan Heng has a feral side to him he doesn’t often show, same as the possessive part of him he keeps locked up tight. Except when he’s on the edge, and suddenly your own hands are being held above your head and he’s pressing himself into you with a breathy moan and a growl. 

Dan Heng is and has always been kind to you in bed and outside, truly a giver in all senses of the word. But during this time, he takes what he wants. Long, deep thrusts push himself into you, bullying the sensitive spots inside of your body. One hand gripping your ass or perhaps a thigh, pushing your leg outside for a better angle, the other hand keeping your arms in place. 

The words that fall from his mouth are dirty but full of praises. Alongside the ‘good girl’ and ‘so pretty’ words are his promises to breed you and make you his, his dark desires filling your ears as he tells you that he wants to keep you in his room forever, that you’ll never need to leave. He wants to buy you a pretty collar and leash so you can be his pet, forever his. 

Grab his horns when he’s rutting into you and you’ll hear the most amazing moan you’ll ever hear. On the verge of a growl and a whimper, he will go harder than before, licking anywhere on your body or maybe even biting as the ability to form coherent sentences disappears from his mind. Stroke his horns, grip them, lick them, he will completely melt and give you a night you won’t forget or walk away from in a straight line. 

Dan Heng will take care of you afterwards, worried that he went too far or scared you. Anything you need, he will get you. Expect silent baths as he cleans you with gentle hands, he will hold you close to him, more affectionate now in privacy. He’ll hold your breasts or your thighs as comfort, gently kneading your flesh to remind him that you’re here with him. 

If you’re willing he will keep going. His stamina is terrifying and his desire during this rut of his is nearly endless. But as soon as you tell him not to, he will back off. Your comfort and pleasure is the most important thing to him during this time. As needy as he is, he would not put you in an uncomfortable or scary situation if you did not want it. 

Every bruise and bite mark will be traced with a kiss, as if he’s apologizing for going so roughly. Yet even in the apologies, there’s a hint of desire with each kiss, almost like the hickeys he’s caused makes him want to give you more. He’d never be able to deny it, especially when he still wants to see a collar around that pretty neck.

[munsonkitten]

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.

Read more on AO3

[kitkatscabinet]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Pairings: Peter B. Parker x reader, Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: the different ways the boys show their love for you

Peter

Brags about you to anyone and everyone. Talks about your achievements and shows off pictures when you aren’t there in person

You never need to ask for a hug. Peter always knows when your upset and is happy to be your own personal weighted blanket. Wrapping his bulk around you and whispering stupid jokes in your ear

Makes you dance with him. Pulls you up to slow dance through the apartment. He’s not very good and there isn’t always music, in which case he’ll serenade you himself. Something he’s even worse at, but it’s worth it to see the way your eye crinkle in joy

Has your back 100% of the time, is always down to shit talk coworkers and strangers that piss you off

Peppers your face in kisses, pulling you to him if you try and escape and tumbling over together in a pile of limbs and laughter

Will do all your favourite activities/watch your favourite shows without much question

Is willing to share the bed with millions of squishmallows/pillows/blankets. Even if it leaves little room for him.

Is your personal hype man. You could kill someone and Peter would think they deserved it, because you’re always right. You have never felt more loved than with Peter as he takes every opportunity to praise you.

Miguel

Brings you trinkets/gifts that remind him of you from every universe he visits

Reading together, cuddled up with different books or with your head on his lap as he reads aloud

Miguel is a very busy man and to an outsider it may look like you put more effort into the relationship but you can tell he loves you by the things he lets you get away with

He’ll endure ridiculous pet names like Pookie Bear if it makes you happy, even if he’ll grumble about it in public.

Will also play along when you put your whole weight on him to try and stop him leaving in the morning

Takes more breaks, actually starts to develop a nearly healthy work/life balance when he realises how upset you get at him for overworking

Non sexual showers where he’ll wash your hair even if he’s exhausted, letting you gently rinse his bruises and scrapes in return. Will also dry/brush your hair afterwards if possible

Regularly texts/calls/FaceTimes throughout the day to check up on you. Will always let you know without fail if something comes up and he can’t be there. Gets Lyla to check up on you a lot too

If you don’t speak Spanish already then he helps you learn (no he didn’t almost cry when you surprised him with it the first time)

He listens. Miguel could listen to you explain the process of paint drying and still find it interesting. He lets you rant for hours about your day or latest hyperfixation. It might not always seem like he’s engaged but he always remembers everything.

Shoulder/neck kisses !!!!

[bahrtofane]

promises under the stars - jude pov

Jude never meant to replace you. But that's how it ended up isn't it. There's no one to blame but himself, no one behind each and every decision that now has him standing at the end of an aisle, waiting for his bride. A bride that isn't you. 

highly highly recommend reading this fic first. or else it kinda doesnt make a whole lot of sense on its own. then come back here. this is kinda like a part 2? kinda

shout out to this anon for this idea ! hope you like it

word count - 2.1K+

watch it - well angst, yet again. pregnancy talks the works. sorry if i used ur name for his wife xoxo. enjooyyy

p.s. - shout out to @anadiasmount for the inspo to create the image at the end ! go read all her stuff yall so good

—————-

He thinks the moment it all comes crumbling down is when he gets word of you getting mobbed. After you've just been to Madrid with him. And he can't do anything about it but send security and hope it doesn't get out of hand. 

He expects you to give up right then and there, curse him and wish for him to have nothing to do with your life again. But you don't. You can never bring yourself to blame him. To hate him.

Then comes your whole family suing him for something completely out of his control. Fresh after your father has threatened him, this is just what they need to come after him legally. 

It's okay because they don't win. Of course they don't. How stupid do you have to be to try and sue for going on vacation for someone you love. He wants to call you every step of the way. But his lawyer warns against it. So he doesn't. And you’re left in the dark.

Do you even know that they've tried to sue?

He can guess what you're thinking. He knows you too well. You think this is him taking an exit from his life. He doesn't want it to be this way. Maybe its for the best after all he finds himself thinking. Back to the thoughts of letting you go for your good as much as his. 

But like most things in life, things get muddy. 

He spends his time in a whirlwind of emotions, all leading back to you. He can not go more than an hour without you in his mind. 

Even if his texting habits dont show it, he wants to talk to you every second of every day. Do you remember when he would call you to complain about the mundane. When he stubbed his toe, or drank out of his mind, pressing his nose against the screen trying to feel you against him. 

Things have changed. He’s no longer the same youthful Jude with a penchant for recklessness. Taking day trips to see you, skirting around paparazzi and your families just to have a moment together.

He misses you, but he’s scared to reach out again. So he remains silent and an onlooker to your life. 

Funny isn't it. World class player with more money than he knows what to do with is scared to text you in fear of what your families will say or do. 

And yet, he can’t stay away for long can he. His resolve breaks on your birthday. Months and years have gone by. Legal cases are drawn out go figure. And he's been so busy with games every few days and events he can never say no too. When he gets home his bones ache, only finding the strength to clean himself up and go to bed. 

When he calls you he realizes maybe it's too late. That waiting for things to blow over have left a gap in your time together. He knows nothing but memories. Your life eludes him. He tries to go back truly, but seeing your story while you're out with friends, smiling- actually smiling. He thinks he better not intrude. 

His mother isn't helping one bit. She's come to the conclusion that the only way to move on and get your family off his back for good is to just move on. Find a “nice sensible girl” she says, smiling.  

Jude doesn't want to. It makes him sick. Kicking and screaming the whole way about it. It’s not a bad idea in theory. Pretend to date someone. Your family gets off his back his family of yours boom you can be happy together again. 

So he can learn who you are again. Find a way into your life. Do you still tilt your head when you're confused? He needs to get back to you. He can't let someone like you leave. He doesn’t just love you, he’s fascinated with the person you’ve grown into. 

The thought of you with anyone else makes him sick. He still loves you, and he makes himself believe that the same is true. 

If only right.

He meets Kaylie in the dead of winter. At a sponsorship event that he completely forgets about and shows up an hour late to. He looks around trying to find his agent but before he can even say his usual rounds of hellos he spots his mother standing with a blonde who clutches her necklace to her chest while she laughs.

This is the start of his own nightmare.

He comes back around when he knows he has to. After taking his sweet time talking to everyone. He tries to look for help to get out of the encounter but it's already too late. His mother is flagging him down. So he walks over, already sweating. 

His mother all but pushes them together. 

“What a couple you two are.” she beams, hands clasped together. 

He gives a tight lipped smile and tries to wiggle his way out the awkward slew of introductions Kaylie gives of herself. But his mother gives him a look, grabbing into his arm and making stand and listen. 

There's a look in his mothers eye, he knows what it means. This is the woman that's supposed to replace you. He feels sick. 

——-

Along the way he thinks that maybe this is what's best for him. For you. 

His family all love Kaylie. And she's sweet enough.

Nothing like you, dragging him into different clubs while you linked arms to get ice cream at the same time.

He finds it hard to keep up with her. Her life is fast paced, more so than his. Every time he calls she's in a different country it seems, catching flights and going to fancy resorts.

You never minded a quiet night in. Its what you loved, being able to exist with him. 

Most of all she doesnt know him. She knows Jude Bellingham. The player, the figure, the celebrity. She doesn't know that he has a bad habit of touching his ears when he's nervous, how his eyes go wide at praise and teasing. How without a hundred reminders and alarms he truly would be late for everything. You always helped getting him to things on time.

When you were both awkward pre teens struggling to make sense of the world, you’d stop by his house to make sure he wouldn’t miss the bus. Sitting next to him on the beaten leather seats, and spitting facts you learned the day before. 

He always listened. He still would today. 

He doesn't think Kaylie’s noticed anything about him. She spends most of their time together taking pictures and flaunting him around. He pretends it doesn't bother him. Is the peace even worth it at this point?

She doesn't know how much he loves making little daisy chains, how much he loved putting them in your hair when you were kids. You’d throw a fit, but he never missed the look in your eyes when his fingers would swoop down to settle them gently. 

Kaylie is beautiful. But she's not beautiful like you. She may have an expensive taste for clothes that allows her to put together a stunning outfit for any occasion, cleavage on display while she pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes for a kiss. Kisses he never gives her. He can't. Not when he knows you wait for him. 

Sure she's great by the average man's standards. But she's not lovely like you. You could be in a trash bag and he'd still think you're the most gorgeous person on the planet. 

He thinks this whole Kaylie thing will blow over, that he'll be able to get back to you. 

And he tells her this. 

He goes through the motions, just to shut everyone up. 

Sitting her down when his mother isn’t around, “I don't love you. I will never be okay. I'm only here to get my mom off my back.”

And she laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “Okay Judey whatever you say,” bracelets clanking together.

The name makes him want to hurl. “Get out of my house.”

Kaylie has got it in her head that she's here to stay. They've gotten into screaming matches because she's gotten her hands on the spare key and spends her days lounging in his house while he's away. They're not even officially dating by any means. 

And he keeps finding her in his bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. Giggling and acting coy. He's losing his patience and losing it fast. 

“Why did you give her the key.” Jude storms into his mothers house. 

She's making tea, swirling a spoon in her mug,”she's your woman isn't she. She needs one.”

“No. She's not my woman and you know that. Everyone that.”

She set the spoon down in the sink, going over to where Jude stands.

“Jude. you need to focus on what's good for you. And she wasn't good. You should be lucky that they didn't win the case. I went and told them about Kaylie and how wonderful she is. Be thankful. “

He's losing his mind. He needs to talk to you. 

He gets the chance when he's back in his hometown. And he sees you. He doesn’t think he could ever miss you, not even in a crowd. A rush of people stop him from running right to you. So instead he texts you. For the first time in ages. 

Was nice seeing you.

He hopes you can read between the lines, that you still know him well enough to understand what he really means. 

I still see you. 

For Jude is a coward. 

——

You dont reply. He forces himself to go back to what hes been forced to know.

Kaylie is all over him, hands roaming his body. There are days when he gives in. Sharing a bed with her as a cruel demented way to find some sort of release from everything that goes on around him.  The look on her face after its all set and done makes him genuinely want to punch something. A look of arrogance, like she's won something. 

And to top it all off he's been called up for England. His life gets even busier, if possible. Trying to keep up with it all proves to be grueling.

But light comes in the form of you. In the form of a single text.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

You're proud of him? You watched him? 

The words bring him to near sobs, the light of his phone illuminating his hotel room while hes getting changed into his pjs. It's completely dark, his personal preference. And hes so happy he would fly the damn plane himself to see you. 

Before he can even think of a reply Kaylie tells him she's pregnant. Barging into his room with a little white box in hand. He thinks is some sort of congratulations for the game. Tacky card, maybe a watch. 

When he opens it, his world comes to a halt. Its a single pregnancy test.

He wants to cry. He's too young to be having kids let alone with her. It makes no sense to him. He always used protection the handful of times they did sleep together. Each time he'd only cry in the shower trying to scrub off her smell and the feeling of her touch off of him. She's only a distraction he tells himself. Too late for those words now.

It feels so wrong, so so wrong. He was supposed to be waiting for you and here he is sleeping with another woman. Who's now pregnant. He wants to vomit. 

He's in too deep now. And he can't be a deadbeat dad. 

Thoughts of you get pushed back to his mind while he scrambles to deal with the consequences of his own actions. 

When they get back to Madrid, his mother doesnt let him off easy. Screaming at him till he thinks he's popped an eardrum. And yet there's a gleam in her eyes like she's happy it all worked out this way. Doting on Kaylie and rubbing her belly (that's not even close to showing yet), and calling herself grandma already. 

The next step is obvious. He has to marry her and make it work.

So he does. An impromptu wedding that happens so fast he doesn't even hear the congratulations from everyone. He doesn't know how to break it to you so instead he posts on instagram and tries to figure out what his life has become. 

Jude is nearing 25. He has a kid on the way. He's married. He hates his wife. He hate himself.  Can you ever forgive him?

[wayfayrr]

Sky being self aware had been plaguing my mind since I wrote this other piece where he confronts you about having played through his game, however while you could read this as a sequel it is written as something separate!

before the main thing though just gonna say, I don't actually support yandere behaviour in real life - I don't usually mention this because in my opinion it goes without saying, however since reader borders a little bit on being one in this I just wanted to make it clear!

[masterlist]

It’s been so long since I last played Skyward Sword, Really I think the last time I picked it up was at least a year ago now. I’d almost forgotten I actually had it on the switch, if it weren’t for me needing to do a clear out I might have never remembered that I had this. I’ve got some spare time right now so really there shouldn’t be an issue if I took a break to play for a while would there? In the worst case I’d get distracted for a bit, but it’s not like I can’t just carry on cleaning tomorrow. Setting up the game was easier than ever, not like setting up any switch game is particularly hard though. My old save was still waiting patiently, I could never bring myself to delete it even after getting a hundred percent. Perhaps it’s finally time to try out hero mode for the first time?

The opening cutscene is nice to watch again, even if I can’t help but feel bad for Link in it, seeing what it’s building up to. Huh? I could’ve sworn my controllers were working a second ago, they can’t have disconnected during the cutscene either, could they?

“[Name]? Dearest… you’ve finally come back…”

What.

It’s like I’ve just been plunged into ice water - I- I’m dreaming right? I have to be, there’s no way this could possibly be real. He’s a game character. Link can’t be speaking to me as if he’s a real person. He can’t be.

“Darling, You - you look so pale are you alright?”

Another step toward the screen, a head-tilt and clear concern on his face. More than possible. I knew it, this has to be a dream.

“Darling, I know that this is strange for you - don’t you think it’s strange for me as well? I mean - I know I’m not supposed to exist as I do. I’m only supposed to be a blank slate for you to play this game as not - not have my own feelings.”

A sharp inhale laced with the sounds of static reverberated throughout the room, with a far too alive sounding sniffle as he wiped his eyes and took yet another step closer. Even eerier was the laugh that followed when he made eye contact with me, something sad and wet sounding like he’s barely holding himself together. It sounds too real.

“It’s been so long I thought that you - I thought that you forgot me. That you weren’t going to come back. I hoped - no I knew - that you didn’t though and you didn’t! You came back to me my love and now I’m not going to let you out of my sight again. I know that it wasn’t your fault that you took so long, I - I mean you didn’t even know that I’m alive but I’m not going to risk it happening again.”

He’s right up against the screen now, staring at me as he presses his hand up against it, like he’s testing it. Gently testing as if he’s trying to see how much pressure the glass can take. If there’s any time best to wake up already it would be now. 

“I’ve been stuck in here alone for so long, if I didn’t have something to focus on I would have gone insane! Can you imagine that? If I didn’t have you to think about all that time I would have lost myself! I was made for you; I know you care about me as well. Please [name] I - I don’t know who I’m supposed to be any more, I’m not - not your character. I’m so much more than that empty husk.”

His hand pushes further on the glass as his fingers tense up, now like he’s preparing himself for something. Link, I’ve never seen him - any version of him in any version of the games acting even half as emotive as this. That proves that this is all a dream, he can’t be - this can’t be real. 

“There’s one other thing that being trapped in here for all this time has let me focus on I think I know how to get out now… If I press this just-”

A sickeningly twisted smile found its way onto his face with each shrill crack of the glass screen under his hand. The other moving up to join it as he pushed even harder, intending to shatter the barrier, he’s convinced himself is standing between us. My chest feels so tight right now, why am I so sore in a dream?  If I were awake I’d be convinced I was having a panic attack but - no- no I’m not awake.

“Right. Then - Well you can see can’t you dearest? If I carry on like this, there won’t be any-”

A loud wince as his hand shatters through the screen, the glass shards cutting through his skin effortlessly marring both him and the remaining screen with - with his blood. The laughter that followed the screen cutting to blank with his hand reaching through seemed to tighten the band that’s seemingly wrapped itself around my lungs making it harder still to breathe. How could I breathe when link - the link is dragging himself out of my tv. 

“Come on darling..? I know you feel the same way about me, I’ve heard you say it all. So please don’t just stand there looking terrified. You have no reason to be scared of me, I love you so much [name]. Can’t you see I’m doing this so that we can be together? I can’t wait to finally hold you in my arms.”

Frozen. That’s the only way I can describe how I’m feeling right now, my once-warm blood has turned to ice within my veins. He’s not stopping. His shirt that was once a pale beige is now stained with red patches, as his head and torso are out of the screen now. What was once a comforting face to see, one of my favourite characters is staring me down with a downright vicious grin while he is dripping with his own blood. Even beneath all of that though, there’s still something so tender, so scared about him, something is worrying him.

“Please darling you’re so pale, you don’t need to be scared - I promise you everything is going to be alright. [name] please just say something to me…”

Dark spots are starting to show in my vision now and… I’m not sure if this is a dream anymore. There are too many things adding up that don’t make any sense. But if it’s not that, I don’t…

“[NA]-”

><><><><

Did I pass out? I mean it really feels like I did, but I don’t feel like I hit anything. If I passed out when I was alone then I would’ve hit my head on something. Maybe I’m just waking up from that weird dream. Hopefully. Although that wouldn’t explain -

“You’re alright darling, I’m here. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’re alright.”

Why I feel like someone’s holding me? 

“Oh dearest you’re finally awake… You - you scared me you know? I didn’t think I was going to be able to catch you, that you were going to get hurt. I’m so glad that I did though love.” It wasn’t a dream. That was Link’s voice, the same one as before. It’s link thats holding me in his arms. Link that’s nuzzling into my hair as he seems to be fighting off tears. That means… That means…

“...Everything was real..?  I - you - it…”

He’s holding me so gently like he’s scared of me disappearing. If what he said is true? I can’t hold  that against him with what he’s said, but even still. I can’t just stay in his arms pretending that him stroking my face with bloodstained hands isn’t bothering me. He’s so happy though and he isn’t hurting me really why don't I just - no I have to tell him that this is making me uncomfortable. 

“All of it, all of it was real [name] and I couldn’t be more glad that it is, because it means that I’m finally here with you.”

“Link…”

“Yes dear?”

… this is all real. I’m actually talking to him. He’s real. And he’s downright obsessed with me. 

“You - you’re still bleeding, you should deal with that and- and with everything.”

I’m not sure that was the right thing to say, but why shouldn’t I not accept him. This isn’t some stranger, it’s Link. One of my first fictional crushes, he’s probably heard the things I’ve said about him; since I’ve said in the past if I got a chance like this that I would take it… why not see where this goes? He looks adorable like this, hopefully, if he stays like this long enough I’ll be able to get the image of him crawling through my tv out of my mind. 

“I - you’re worried about me, love? I - I knew that you’re my soulmate, oh my dear. You're so beyond perfect.”

“We should go get you some bandages Link. I know you’re not quite used to everything yet so I wouldn’t want you to get an infection immediately.”

Yeah, I’m not going to let this chance slip. He’s so much nicer in person, why should I throw this away? He’s perfect and now?

He’s mine.

[grimesgirll]

rick has to be the most possessive man you know.

you love him, but you also love daryl.

so that complicates things. it confuses you even more the number of times both of the men managed to have you bent over between them. being as jealous as rick is, it’s hard to believe that he could even think to share you. daryl’s his brother however, and you’re an individual, you can make your own decisions, rick guesses.

he can’t fault you for your obsession with his best friend. daryl’s a moral man, a provider, good looking enough that you can’t help but run your hands through his hair every chance you get. sometimes it takes rick some deep breaths and a moment of grounding to contain his jealousy. he loves you too much to not see red every time you’re swooning for someone who isn’t him. he even loves daryl but he can’t help it, not when it’s you.

so rick will never stand between you and daryl, not when you show no signs of ever dropping your infatuation with either man, especially not the sheriff. everyday when he comes home and plops down on the sofa after a day of his enduring constable’s duties, you’re on top of him in his lap. you don’t even have to be horny to make yourself at home with your head against his chest.

adoring his deep blue eyes, you straddle him every opportunity you get for the time to lock eyes, hands on his shoulders and his on your hips as you talk about your days. after a long day out in the community, it doesn’t take long for rick’s dick to tent in his jeans and you to feel a pressure against your clothed slit.

it isn’t uncommon for daryl or rick to come home and find you curled up with the other on the sofa. so rick has to endure the empathy exercise that is not dragging you from the sofa, tossing you over his shoulder and retiring to the bedroom for the night.

plush lips parted with only your breath coming through, you just melt into them whenever you have the opportunity. one look and you’re a puddle.

how can he not be jealous when you’re this fucking sweet?

he tries to extend daryl the same courtesy of enjoying you without the drama but rick is still getting used to the dynamic - more than the group is at this point.

the three of you were an unusual case but the group had gotten used to it after long enough. it only took a few weeks for them not to take a second glance at rick’s hands on your waist or how daryl’s crossbow could almost always be found somewhere around your sleeping situation.

that’s why it’s not awkward when carl knocks on the door in the mornings to hand judith off to his father and you and daryl are snoozing away in the background. you do your best to keep the pda to a minimum but the neighborhood doesn’t mind, so rick often doesn’t.

you think back to gabriel's church in georgia; you'd been hiding with the members of your group that had stayed while the others went out to do in the cannibals once and for all. your plan had went off without a hitch but that didn't mean that the event hadn't shaken you to the core.

one of the savages whose name you couldn't be bothered to remember had graphically described how specifically delicious your parts would be.

rick slashed his throat.

the entire series of events had rick on edge but even after the bloodbath, rick couldn’t stand to have you out of his sight.

“what’re you doin’ all the way over here?”

you tensed up.

“rick, i-,”

“why the fuck were you wandering off?”

you paused, recognizing the ire in rick’s voice when you hear it. you almost wanted to say nothing to avoid what you know will be a fight regardless but you know you’ll be accused of not speaking up.

“i didn’t mean to. i was stretching my legs. i’ll stay closer.”

“yeah, you will.”

the group’s known about how rick feels for you for a while.

it’s why you’re wrapped up in rick’s arms while you watch your newly assimilated group and the alexandrians trying their hands at the compound bows hanging around the makeshift archery range.

daryl’s leaving everyone in the dust of course.

“show off,” you whisper to rick who snickers in agreement.

this is nice; quaint and tranquil, just like the suburbs out to be. you never imagined ending up essentially married with two husbands and two children, shacked up in a gated community in a nearly million dollar house with the dead being a greater issue than a mortgage or getting the kids into college but you’re content with it.

you’d rather watch as daryl does trick shots - going as far to pull out the old splitting the arrow in half trick, which you almost whistle at. are they going to put an apple on the windmill next? you chuckle at the thought.

“when are you going up?” maggie calling your name snaps you out of your musings about daryl.

you scoff at her playfully. “you know i’m a bad shot, maggie.”

the redhead shrugs. “don’t think you’re as bad as you say you are. c’mon, even the kids are trying it.”

she’s not wrong - even sam is picking up a bow and giving it a try with some encouraging from ron.

“sure,” accepting the challenge, you untwist yourself from rick; not before indulging in one last full lipped kiss, a “good luck” on rick’s lips as you head to the picnic table to gear up.

you select a familiar looking compound bow and join daryl at the shooting line. he frowns when he catches sight of your arm.

“wait, baby, you’re not even wearin’ your armband right.”

you shrug. “it’s been a while.”

he’s in you; fixing the nearly sideways arm shield. muttering about you never taking safety too seriously. you’d beg to differ but you’re too bewitched by his striking blue eyes up close. the man slides the band in place before dropping his hand back to your rear, letting a hand fall down your cargos as he gently shoves you towards the cylinder full of arrows at the spray painted shooting line.

the delight is all over your face when you knock your arrow with no notes from the bowman observing your practice.

archery isn’t your strong suit but you’d come into contact with it at summer camps in your youth and in gym class. your form is fantastic - or at least it always starts that way. the arrow that flies flies flawlessly and suddenly you’re beaming at the cheers once you notice your arrow a mere inch from where a bullseye should be.

maggie’s awestruck face and rick’s grin are enough for you to start knocking another arrow, sending daryl a cocky look.

the problems start when you reload and tilt your bow upright. you’re drawing your arrow back like your boyfriend showed you all of those times before, but something makes the auburn haired man stop and correct your form, saying, “here,” softly and moving your left arm long.

he steadies a hand on your hip as he helps to steady your aim. despite being momentarily tucked in daryl’s steel embrace, you feel eyes boring into it.

rick is striding over, not caring about glenn approaching the other end of the shooting line to give it a go or even your almost perfect bullseye.

“i think you would’ve gotten that one is daryl would’ve given you some space.”

an eye roll is sneaking out of daryl and rick still has his arms crossed. you shake your head to signify that it’s all a misunderstanding. “rick, i’m shit at archery because i’m shit at archery - not because daryl has his hands on me.”

rick grunts. “that’s not what i saw.”

you smile sweetly at the constable. “he’s just helping me learn to shoot, babe.”

“yeah, let her learn. might come a day when we’re out of bullets,” daryl backs you up, citing an obvious concern now that scavenging was growing riskier and riskier.

“might come a day when you stop drooling over every touch.” rick jabs.

an eyebrow shoots up. “you don’t seem to have a problem with me drooling over you.” you counter. “just wait until later. you’ll be changing your tune about all of this,” you gesture to daryl.

rick’s eyes are alight with something stronger than irritation, more personal than just being annoyed. he looks like he almost wants to bend you over his lap and you’re sure he’s about to say something just as embarrassing until a voice interrupts his thought before it comes out.

you and daryl seize your getaway when rick is summoned up onto deanna’s porch to try some of her famous peanut butter buckeyes. “proudly from ohio,” she’d proclaimed of the recipe.

midwestern sweets are the perfect cover for you and your archer to stowaway in the barn, somewhere it would take rick a long time to look. daryl has you next to him on a hay bale in an empty horse stall before you can even count how many horses are actually around. not that it matters with the stall dividers giving you more than enough cover.

the finger screwing you open has you screaming your face with pleasure. this is what you’d been wanting rick to do at the archery range. you would’ve done whatever he said for him to whisk you away and take care of that specific need right there and then.

“real quick? just to hold you over until later?” he’s massaging your worked up insides like he’s aware of every tension that’s been brewing in you all day long.

“dare’,” your ability to keep it together is slipping.

“you want me to fill you up with a finger now, baby?” daryl toys, middle finger joining his pointer in your pulsing cunt.

you say everything but no when daryl embarks between your thighs.

deanna’s buckeyes were delicious.

not as great as his mom’s peach cobbler but enough of a sign that this place is where the group should lay down there roots. where you three should put down your roots.

rick doesn’t want to be the overbearing boyfriend, not when you and daryl are on the other end of it. the idea of sharing you is still just so foreign. in bed, it mostly goes off without a hitch but during the daytime is another story.

jealousy manifests in all kinds of inappropriate ways - like spoiling your moment with daryl after you shot so well, rusty as you were not having picked up a bow in god knows how long. rick wants to apologize. the thought’s on his mind but the way his body moves, searching for you and his friend, he’s more of a predator than a man. moved almost as if by the primal need to be close to you. to know where you are.

so when he finally finds and daryl in the stable, he thinks his head might explode.

“the fuck are you two doin’ in this stall?”

your climax is put on pause as daryl freezes his tongue over your clit. despite your frivolous wrenching of his auburn waves, your efforts to at least enjoy a release before rick starts on his lecture prove to be futile. daryl’s not just abandoning ship but pulling up your underwear.

“and the fuck are you whimperin’ about?”

you stop; a deer in the headlights. “what?” you mumble through swollen lips.

“move the fuck over, daryl,” before you know it, rick is doing the unexpected and taking your lover’s spot sucking your clit.

rick doesn’t give you anytime at all to mentally or physically adjust to him just jumping in and slurping you up.

the lack of warning has you coming on his tongue and daryl’s eyes widening. none of you can be surprised by the fact that rick isn’t stopping. you’re fine with that; you can’t face his “i told you so” looks right now anyways.

rick rarely gets to eat you out as often as he wants to. usually it’s daryl torturing your sensitive cunt without abandon. the scene before you: rick, with a tongue treating you like the last popsicle in the hell, tongue fucking you even as you grip as his hair.

“rick,” you say starry eyed.

“he’s busy, baby,” daryl explains and settles into the spot next to you against the hay bale.

“rick, rick!” you’re stirring up straw around you as rick adds a finger to his artful invasion of your pussy. the tongue isn’t enough, no, he needs to penetrate you with a finger as well. it doesn’t matter that his nose is shiny with your slick or that you’re begging for a break. you’re gonna overload all over his face like the good little slut he knows you are for him.

at least that’s what he tells you after he holds you down and tag teams you with daryl to incur a whirlwind of pleasure from your sensitive pebbled flesh to your slippery entrance. your kicking legs don’t phase him, much less than tsunami of pleasure that washes over you and coats his mouth.

the intense breakdown from inside your core has your mind completely wiped. you’re so fucked out, you’re begging for rick to do the dirtiest things to you on this hay strewn floor.

“you need me to smack your pussy baby?”

“yes, rick!”

the light sting that flushes your cunt has you gasping into daryl’s mouth when he leans over to lock puffy lips with you. another swat or two is more than enough to have you even wetter than you were when rick interrupted you and daryl. the stretch you’re expecting comes more as a squelch for the first few inches.

rick has gotten used to you over time but as daryl props you up on his lap, you grit your teeth. the older man is hitting that marianna trench deep angle with his horsecock fitting for the stable that’s on the verge of battering your cervix.

kudos to daryl, you think. how supportive of your fucking antics. you know why that is.

daryl will let rick go as far as he does because he knows it’ll end up with the three of you right here. right on top of each other, gliding into position wordlessly. the tent in his pants has been freed and by the way he’s palming himself, you can tell he’s not saving that thing for your mouth.

the massive cock splitting you up and imprinting some kind of shape, begins to pulse. you’re ready to come all over him when you feel an intrusion at your sopping hole.

“what the-,”

“relax, it’s a finger.”

“you’re cutting in here already?”

daryl raises an eyebrow at his brother. “you’re tellin’ me that you don’t wanna double stuff her?”

you clench around rick at the younger man’s words.

rick laughs, wrapping his arms around you before starting to roll over, “well, when you put it that way.”

and he sends his tongue down your throat as soon as the second dexterous finger struggles inside of you. the pressure ebbs and flows from pain to pleasure. regardless, the pain is dull enough that the hold rick’s maintaining on your sides is enough to distract you.

you’re draped on top of rick, snug against him but he still starts to run his cocky mouth.

“i thought the bigger dude’s supposed to be on top. isn’t that what that magazine you guys found said?”

daryl raises a tawny eyebrow, not bothering to slow the pace of his fingers. “you’re really gonna brag about your dick right now?”

rick pistons his hips upwards, squeezing a cry out of you and proving his point.

“you’re an asshole,” you’re muttering as you endure another pointed thrust.

rick gets his recompense when daryl finally feeds his own impressive cock, centimeter by centimeter at first - eyeballing it and checking in on you and rick as you both start to squirm.

daryl’s struggling to not give it one heroic thrust and dive balls deep but he knows that would probably tear you in two. theres no way you can handle anything other than slow right now. rick is the same with a matching flustered expression. he accepts your hand when you grasp his much larger palm in yours.

the once cocky constable is now absolutely being shut up by your all encompassing, air tight walls and daryl’s cock edging you two as he edges further inside of you.

daryl’s fingers were pipe cleaners in comparison to his meaty cock cramming into you as if you weren’t meant for only one. it doesn’t matter though. no one would hear you complaining. this isn’t the first one they’ve stretched you on both of their cocks and it won’t be the last - not if you have anything to do with it.

once the man above you is a bit more firmly entrapped in your tight warmth, you start to move your hips back. rick is smirking beneath you when daryl warns you with a spank not to squirm too much - not if you want both of them to come in you. the conditions have you settling your hips and clinging onto rick, stilling with the close contact as daryl sandwiches you into him.

rick has no reason to complain, not with the sunlight coming through just the right panes of the barn’s skylights and painting your face and your hair a delicious shade of golden hour. daryl’s disposition is made only more chiseled and picturesque with the waning daylight.

neither of them are lasting long with the way the day’s gone.

you don’t make it a piece of cake holding on regardless. wound up since rick first pulled you into his arms back at the range, you have no patience for the men overfilling your walls. your hips can’t wait to thrash and jerk just like daryl’s. the archer is rasping in your ear to calm down but with the blush bringing, brain fogging pressure that two cocks in your entrance brings, you barely listen.

your constable comes first of course. he’s the one that sets off the real showstopper of a release that wrings a cry so loud out of you that one of the horses sighs in the background.

the warmth of his come fills you from his position buried deep in your pussy. it’s slipping out of you with each erratic propel of daryl into you, fucking the two of you straight through your orgasms.

come floods from your womb and out of your entrance, spilling down your thighs once daryl finally pulls out. he whistles and gestures for rick to check it out but the man is too worn out to look between your sticky thighs. instead, you’re flush against his chest and he’s calling daryl down with the two of you.

tangled together in the hay, you can’t think of a better way to spend this idyllic day.

[obsidianpen]

These questions about Lightning make me wonder what direction you plan to take it. I know you don't use the same things in every story, which makes them so delightfully unique. This is just my wishful thinking for you to explore the prophecy more. I know that in the books the power that defeats V is love, but for some reason I feel like there's something more to it than that. Harry is the chosen one, and that could mean so many things. Jamie, have mercy on me and please tell me something about this new story of ours 🥺🥺

omggg what me ramble about my the plot of a fic im not writing? Please

okay so

SPOILERS in case I ever do get around to writing Lightning

Here’s what I know so far about how the beginning of the fic is going to go (and I may, ofc, change my min entirely):

Harry, a young auror in training, goes back by accident, due to a dark ritual involving the ring, an illegal time turner and human sacrifice that he Ron and Hermione attempt to bust on their own, ignoring ministry protocol. Things go very awry, Harry ends up in 1950 ish, alone. Oh and he has a ton of gold, thanks to an interaction Draco that happens earlier that day - how lucky

Harry carries a terrible blood curse with him, and knows immediately that this shit is going to kill him and soon if he doesn’t seek medical help. But he also knows that time traveling like he did, no matter the circumstances, will send probably him to Azkaban, if not off as a test subject to the DoM. He knows they’ll look into his memories if he comes off as suspicious at st mungos, because it’s a real dark curse, and he’s a horrible actor and he’s awful at Occlumency and he knows it, so

harry concocts a ridiculous plot that allows him to pull out alllllll of his memories but with a plan in place to get them back after his curse is lifted, and sets things up so he wakes up right outside st mungos, where he knows they’ll take care of him

he is well taken care of, the poor lamb, to be attacked on Christmas Eve!!! and spends a few days there, maybe makes some hospital friends who have also had their memories fucked with

they assume he was the victim of some awful mugging, and that the perpetrator wiped his memories after and did such a terrible job and that’s why Harry can’t even remember his own name (they deduce his first name is ‘Harry’ only because he wrote it on the inner tag on his robe beforehand; a healer tells him that next time he writes his names on his personal belongings, he ought to put his last name, too)

but he still has his wand - how lucky! So they tell him he should go to ollivanders, as it looks like one of his (man remembers every wand he ever sold, ten galleons says he’ll remember you)

so Harry does, and the moment he asks, ollivander’s face goes slack - he’s clearly been confounded. He goes into a back room, hands Harry a moleskin bag, and bows him out of his shop without another word.

Harry goes back to the room he’s renting, and it’s NYE btw, and he opens the bag to find a shit ton of galleons and two vials, both glowing silver, one so bright it’s almost blinding. There is a handwritten note on each one. ‘Before you died’ and ‘after you died’

another note reads something along the lines of, ‘hi Harry, these are all your memories. I’m not even sure if you should take them all back or not; it might be better if you didn’t. It’s not often you get a chance to start over. But I know you - ha - so you’ll definitely end up taking them back. Maybe think about it first. It’s not great. I think I’d take the do over. really, think about it. Oh, and while you’re considering it - avoid Knockturn alley.’

harry does indeed find this all ominous, and assumes he must have been a horrible horrible person. He probably stole all this gold! What if he killed people for it! So he takes his sad amnesiac self down to the Leaky and starts to day drink heavily as the new year approaches

he is friendly with the young bus boy named Tom, who swears he’ll be running that pub someday.

as if gets busier later in the day, quite crowded, Harry gets more depressed. At one point, half the bar seems to cheer when a new person arrives. harry looks. He’s tall. He’s very handsome. He immediately makes Harry’s mind go on high alert and he’s instantly anxious and doesn’t know why.

tom the busboy tells him that if he keeps staring like that, the bloke is going to notice. Sure enough, he does. Harry looks away and is having a crisis (why am I staring at that handsome man? Why do I keep calling him handsome? Am I gay, and I forgot? Wtf is wrong with me)

so he goes to leave, but Tom the bus boy got busy, so he shouts to get his attention so he can say goodbye to his bestie. “Tom!”

”…Yes?”

wrong Tom. Harry is suddenly eye to eye with the very tall very handsome very scary man. He’s staring down at him, looking confused. “Have we met…?”

harrys body acts without his consent. He moves in ways he did not know he could move - in a flash he has his wand out, pointed at this man’s temple, has him backed up against a wall, his elbow across his throat, pressing on his windpipe.

about a dozen people around them are ready to kill Harry at once, but mystery tall man calls them off with the barest gesture. Harrys heart is pounding and he is having all these horrible confusing thoughts, like ‘should tear his head off, lock him up, stop him now, ruin him’

And he’s looking right into his eyes while thinking all these things, so TR is just drinking it all in, unbeknownst to him

Owner of the bar yells at harry. Harry, so very confused and too guilty and panicked to even apologize, just leaves. he goes somewhere far away for a bit… and decided to take the first vial of his memories then

mental crisis ensues

aaaaaaand I actually have a lot more than that semi planned but that’s the exposition 🥲