#he was unable to move on after death bc he had no one to pass his skills onto

[sage-nebula]

me: "it's okay if people are wrong about things, people are allowed to be wrong about things, it's not a big deal."

someone: [refers to any Link other than the one in Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask as the Hero of Time and/or refers to any Zelda other than the one in Skyward Sword as Hylia's reincarnation]

me: "I am going to gnaw through their arm like a beaver would a tree"

[neonoddeye]

Heart-Stealer | Law x Gn! Reader

A/N: I will be utilizing my all-time favorite trope for this: the “there’s only one bed” trope! Yes, it’s cheesy. No, I do not care. As a side note, I wrote this for an OC I made, but I’m rewriting it bc I know no one would read it if I left it as is.

CONTENT INCLUDES: …sharing a bed (it’s sfw, just cuddling)

“Are you sure this is okay, Law?” You ask with a crack in your voice. “I can always bug the staff for a new room…”

“It’s fine, y/n-ya”, Law replies, “I’d rather us stick together here.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh, moving your gaze up nervously towards the top of the elevator. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to accompany your captain on a trip at the last possible second, the single-bed hotel room issue would’ve been solved. Alas, the two pirates have a long night ahead of them.

I hope Law doesn’t hear my heart pounding against my chest right now…

It was a very nice hotel room; whether Law actually legally rented it or threatened a few lives for it, you didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, either, as you admire the luxury that lies before you. Nice going, captain, you remarks to yourself. Life has been new and exciting since you joined the heart pirates recently; you’d even go as far as to say it’s the best decision you’ve made in life so far. The only downside is that you’ve properly fallen for the sadistic captain, the surgeon of death, the literal heart stealer. It feels like an unspoken rule to not fall for your pirate captain, especially if he’s notorious and stands above most typical pirates. It’s not like you were trying to catch feelings for Law; he’s an anomaly in the way he makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to move under his gaze as if he’d bound you with sea prism stone. You didn’t realize you had been lost in thought for a little too long until the man of interest interrupts your thoughts.

“You should take a shower first, y/n-ya,” he offers, placing himself on a smooth, leather swivel chair with a book already in hand.

You perk up upon hearing his voice cut the painful silence, sweet honey in your ears. “‘Kay”, you give Law a small smile before collecting your things.

The shower was, to no surprise, heavenly after having to shower in a metal box underwater for some weeks. After taking off your clothing and jewelry, you allow the deliciously hot water and its steam to envelop you and wash the day’s worries away. After stepping out, you change into a black tank top and plaid sleep shorts and gather your toiletries to finish your nightly routine. Placing yourself at a vanity, you turn to Law behind you.

“Shower’s all yours,” you smile, trying not to linger your gaze too long as Law swings his lengthy figure off the desk and carefully places his book down. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you try not to imagine the intimacy of having such a gorgeous man sleep next to you, even if not in a sexual context. To have him close, feel his presence intoxicate you and lull you to sleep like a drug: it’s something you’ve wished upon a star for.

Moments pass as you dry your hair until the bathroom door slides open. revealing Law in just a pair of sweatpants, his signature hat nowhere to be seen, replaced by a wet mop of jet-black hair. For a fleeting moment, you admire the mosaic of tattoos adorning his tanned skin before whipping your head back to focus on your nightly routine, finally placing the hair dryer down beside yourself. You blink a few times, noticing a rosy shade of pink dusting your pale cheeks and eyes wide enough to hold mini hearts. Soon after, you see Law approach you from behind in the mirror, his chest almost grazing your head as he reaches over to unplug the hair dryer, gingerly gathering it to use himself. The faint scent of hotel soap, mild tangerine and white tea float above you and dizzy your already jumbled senses as he walks back to the bathroom. You sit there in mild shock at the tiny gesture, thinking that Law seemed to linger there for a moment longer than needed. No matter what he did, Law was your own personal siren; your one true opponent in a world you once thought you conquered.

After some internal pep talk, you walk over to the bed, propping yourself up on two pillows as you nestle under thin, white blankets with a book in hand. You immediately feel the bed sink, signaling that Law has done the same, presumably with a book covering medicine.

“Uh… what are you reading?” Law cuts into the tension.

“It’s a book on the geography of the new world,” you respond, your nose still in said book (though you’re not entirely paying attention to it, as talking to Law is much more enthralling). “A pirate on the Oro Jackson wrote it. Not an easy find.”

“I can imagine it wasn’t easy. You’re into geography?” Law pries his gaze off his book.

“Not particularly. I just thought the book seemed interesting. Besides, the knowledge could help us.”

“Thanks for the research, but I think we’re good. I trust Bepo as a navigator.” Law gives a ghost of a smile at the last remark, either at the thought of his best friend or the sentiment of you helping him.

“What about you? Another doctor book?” you inquire, scanning the cover of the book in Law’s hands.

“Yeah. This one’s about medicinal herbs, I’m thinking about finding some on the islands we’ll come across.”

“You’re very dedicated to your work,” you compliment your crush with a glimmer in your eyes. Law’s commitment is truly admirable; you adore how intelligent he is.

“I guess,” Law shrugs. He yawns, placing the book on the nightstand beside him. “Mind if I turn the light off? We need to wake up early.”

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, the beating of your heart becoming a little too loud for your liking as the reality of your situation sets in.

Does he feel even a bit the same way that I do right now?

Law reaches over to turn off the lamp next to him, leaving the light of the full moon to creep through sheer curtains, beautifully illuminating his sharp features. Law lies on his back, decorated arms crossed at his stomach, and you mirror him, even if it’s not the way you typically lie down to sleep. Silence passes, both parties secretly not sleeping a wink.

“Does it ever bother you?” You start, letting your words reverberate into the unfamiliar pitch black room. “It seems like the entire world is watching you. You were already a monster rookie to begin with, and now you’re a damn warlord.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then you hear Law stir a bit. “You could say the same about yourself. You joined my crew, after all.” 

You smirk, turning your head to the side. Though you can’t see him too well, your heart swells at the thought of your face being so close to his. You silently thank the gods that you’re able to see such a handsome man this close, even with his heavy eyes and messy hair.

“I don’t think about it much. I guess it’s because I’ve been scrutinized all my life that it doesn’t bother me. I did this to myself, after all.”

“I assume you have your own reasons for being a warlord, but I won’t pry,” you respond softly.

“You’ll find out eventually. We have to face it all pretty soon,” Law sighs. “It’ll be a lot to handle.” Whatever baggage he has, you can tell it claws at him, even now.

“We’re pirates, Law, we handle tough situations all the time. I’m… happy to go through it for your sake. I mean, for the sake of the crew.” Way to cover that up at the end.

Law smiles, genuinely, at your last remark, though the darkness covers it and he turns his head to the side so you won’t see. He conceals his feelings most of the time, but when he’s truly thankful, it shows. And for you, he is eternally grateful for.

~

The moonlight of the night before is long forgotten as the morning sun engulfs the hotel room, filling your senses just enough to pull you out of slumber. To your surprise, you’re no longer at one edge of the bed, but in the middle, wrapped in Law’s arms as if you never woke up from your dream. Your eyes widen completely, breath hitching in your throat as you feel Law stir awake and see the same shock in his eyes as soon as they open. You both scramble away from each other, mumbled apologies escaping raspy morning voices as you gather yourselves. 

“I uh,” you start, “did not intend on that. I swear.” Shit, he definitely felt my heartbeat.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Law shakes his head awake, trying to understand why it felt so wrong to pry himself away from your warmth. He looks over to see you slightly shivering, clearly at a loss from warmth as well.

He hesitates before his next proposal. “Come here, you’re cold,” he says, extending his arm out. You pause as well, not believing your ears, before slowly bringing yourself back into Law’s chest, his arms gingerly wrapping back around you. You’re both stiff for a few moments, the rhythms of two hearts like taiko drums in the otherwise silent room.

“Is this okay, y/n-ya?” Law whispers into your hair, still stiff against you.

You smile weakly into his skin. “Yeah, it is. Don’t do this for me, though.”

“I’m not.”

Your heart leaps at the confession of Law actually wanting to be this close to you, and your shoulders finally relax into his touch as you allow yourself to relish in his warmth. He follows suit, pulling you a little closer and closing his eyes in serenity. Silence follows again as you both become overwhelmed in the feeling of touch, limbs entangled and gentle grazes of hands on skin sending you both to heaven. It doesn’t take long until you both accidentally succumb to sleep once again, and miss the free breakfast Law had intended to wake up on time for. The extra time together more than makes up for it, though.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

A Warm Bed

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, mature descriptions of death/apocalyptic life, blurry infidelity, unprotected PIV, dirty talk, cum play i guess, unedited/proofread bc I REFUSE)

word count: 3.4k

joel masterlist

It was freezing out today in Boston but you didn’t notice, not with the flames that burned beside you as you hoisted dead child after dead child into the makeshift mass crematorium. Ash turned your hair grey, hiding away it’s natural color until you’d shower it off later on tonight, and even then it would never completely go away, just like the smell of burning flesh would never fully leave your nostrils.

This hadn’t been the life you imagined for yourself as a child before the outbreak. You always thought you’d go into something that helped people—teaching, nursing, maybe even social work—but life couldn’t have turned out more different. Joel, your work partner, assured you once after a particularly tough shift that in a way, you were helping people. You struggled to believe it.

“Take your break,” Joel approached you, swatting your hip lightly with the back of his gloved hand as you stood watching the little girl no older than five burn in the pit, unable to take your eyes off the destruction you had a hand in causing. “Hey,” he called firmer, finally pulling your eyes from the scene, “Go take a break.”

“Can’t,” you sighed, pointing behind him at the new truck of arrivals, Joel’s head shaking just enough for you to notice it before he brought his eyes back to yours. You spotted something deeply apologetic in them, Joel having graced you with a rare bit of empathy as he studied you. “Shifts almost over anyways. Let’s just hurry up and get this truck cleared so we can all go home.”

“You’re cryin’,” he pointed out, almost angry.

“It’s the wind,” you snapped back at him as the truck backed up towards the two of you. “Come on.”

You and Joel worked more efficiently than any other duo on cremation duty, Joel’s strength and ability to shut off his emotions at will pairing excellently with your speed and determination to get the job over with. He handled the adults, you the children—it was a system that you had down pat. Two hours and at least six more trucks later, the two of you were off.

Usually, you’d go one way and Joel would go the opposite, the two of you never really interacting with each other outside of work except when you had to. He had Tess for that, and you had…well, you had yourself.

But today, Joel stuck beside you, walking with you as you left the payout line after your shift. He said nothing as he joined you through town, his shoulder grazing yours every now and then as he moved over to let someone pass on the sidewalk.

“Gotta stop and get some bread,” you announced, pointing at the general store you were approaching. Joel nodded, his eyes flickering to you.

“Should stop and get somethin’ to eat myself.” You found his company to be both strange and comforting. Joel always made you feel safe, or at least as safe as someone living in a world this unpredictable and cruel could feel.

Walking inside, he followed you as you perused the aisles, your brain working as quickly as it could to work out the cheapest plan for dinner given the throbbing headache you were dealing with from the fumes and smoke.

“Pasta,” he suggested with a point of his finger, seemingly reading your mind. “Always my go to.”

“I do have some canned tomatoes.” You reached for the loose spaghetti noodles sitting in a plastic bin in the shelf and took a guess at how much you’d need to feed you, not wanting to spend more than you absolutely needed to.

“Why don’t you come over and we can share it,” he suggested, albeit shyly. You gave him a quirked eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll split the bill.”

“So Tess eats for free?” You chuckled and shook your head. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Tess, you just resented her for having everything you ever wanted: someone to come home to, someone to make living in this dark world worth all the strife.

“Tess is out on a run,” he informed, his tone betraying him and exposing his loneliness. “Won’t be back for a few days.”

Did he want you to be his mistress? Though you admittedly were desperate for even a semblance of affection, you were no home-wrecker. Especially not Tess’s home.

“Joel, I hope you’re not—“

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He shook his head and mumbled, “Forget it.”

Feeling overwhelmed by your own need for company and the pained look in his eye, you sighed, reaching one hand over to touch his shoulder.

“Sure. Let’s share.”

“Knock, knock,” you called as you pushed open the door to Joel’s apartment, having only been there once before to his flask that he’d left at work by mistake.

“Come in,” Joel’s indifferent rasp welcomed you.

“Brought some beers, too.” You gave him an unsure smile as you watched him buzz around his kitchen, a pot boiling the pasta from earlier while he tended to the sauce in another pan.

“Thank you,” he gave you a flicker of a smile as you set one of the beers on the counter beside him.

“Got a bottle opener?” You knew the answer to that was clear from the amount of beer bottles in his trash can, but didn’t want to snoop around for it without his consent.

“Yeah,” he left the stove and walked over to a drawer, pulling out the metal tool and handing it over to you so that you could open yours first.

“Ran into your brother on my way over,” you announced, watching as he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He’s getting in deep with Marlene’s group, huh?”

“I told him to stay far away from all that,” he scolded you as though it was your doing. “Boy don’t listen for shit.”

“Just saw them hanging three Fireflies yesterday,” you lamented with a shake of your head. You weren’t sure if you bought into the group’s ideology, and you especially weren’t a fan of their methods for going about change, but you knew they didn’t deserve to be executed.

“Yeah, well, if you see Tommy up there, do me a favor and keep it to yourself.” Joel walked back to the stove and kept his eyes focused on the food, a silence falling over the two of you for a while.

“Thanks,” you finally spoke as Joel set your plate down in front of you at his tiny dining table before seating himself in front of you.

“You doin’ alright?” he asked in between bites, his eyes now seemingly unable to look anywhere else but directly into yours. You felt flushed at the attention he was showing you, but tried to pay it little mind.

“Yeah, I’m…fine,” you lied. “Just waiting for my own Tess to come along, I guess.”

“Tess and I aren’t Romeo and Juliet for fucks sake,” he lowered his eyes to his plate and spun his fork around to collect the pasta. “Just two people.”

“Yeah, but at least there’s someone,” you argued. “When I go home…it’s just me and my cold bed.”

“Believe it or not, but my bed gets cold too.” There was something in his voice tonight, something that hadn’t ever been there before, or at least not that you’d noticed. Your eyes locked and you felt something stir inside of you that both thrilled you and filled you with immense guilt.

Of course the one person in Boston you wanted to get into bed with was taken.

Not knowing what to say, you let out an airy chuckle and looked down at your nearly empty plate, missing the way Joel eyed you like a man on a mission.

“Look if you’re worried about Tess,” he started, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs out underneath the table. “Don’t be.”

“Oh yeah? Would Tess say the same?” You lifted your eyes only to be punched in the gut by his rugged handsomeness. Working with him as long as you had had conditioned you to his above-average looks, seeing him dirty and covered in ash everyday made it easier to pretend he was just like every other man in town, but with him clean, sitting in front of you, having just cooked you a meal, and now nearly begging you to consider sharing a bed with him tonight? It wasn’t so easy.

“Tess and I ain’t—,” he started, pausing to let out a soft sigh. “We both have gone outside of this…before. Her more than me, but that’s ‘cause I’m not much for all that.”

“You and Tess are open?” you asked in amused disbelief, having never imagined the couple in their fifties, although neither of them looked too old by any means, spreading their love throughout the zone.

“I didn’t say that.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Just said it happens.”

“Joel, I don’t want Tess at my door,” you sighed, finding it harder and harder to stick to your morals the longer he stared at you.

“She won’t,” he promised. “Besides, I ain’t asking for—look, I’m just offerin’ a warm bed. That’s all.”

“Just a warm bed?” You hated that that disappointed you.

“Just a warm bed.”

You knew the minute you curled up next to him that tonight wouldn’t simply be about staying warm together or keeping each other company. The ache between your thighs was incessant as you rested your head on his chest, his natural scent that might have been considered musky pre-outbreak sent you reeling. It had been years since you felt another person’s warmth this way, let alone a man. You found yourself moving closer and closer, tossing your leg over his and hugging your arm around his waist to soothe the building desire for more. Joel didn’t seem to mind.

“Here—“ He shifted onto his side, pulling you flush against his body. Your leg rested over his hip, his thigh planted firmly between yours as he gave you space to bury your face in his neck. “Better?”

“Joel—“ you exhaled shakily, not sure you even wanted to finish the thought. Joel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, both of you staring at each other in silence for a few tense seconds before he started to lean in. His lips simply grazed yours, not even molding with yours yet, but he managed to pull a needy moan out of you.

“Sweet thing,” he cooed, kissing his way across your chin, his beard scratching at your skin and his lips pressing against your pulse. “How long has it been?”

“Years,” you confessed breathily, your eyes closed as you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of his lips against your skin, the heat of his palms as they ran up and down your side, the increase of pressure of his thigh against your core.

“That’s too damn long,” he husked in a mumble as he rolled you onto your back, his warmth never leaving you as he rolled right on top of you.

“You’re sure—“ Your words were interrupted by his hips pressing into yours, the barrier of your clothes doing little to prevent you from feeling him. “Fuck, you’re sure Tess won’t kill me for this?”

“I’m sure,” he soothed, pressing his lips to yours finally, one arm holding him up while his other hand slid up your side, dragging your sweater up with it. “This somethin’ you want?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lacing your fingers in his salt and pepper waves. “I think it’s something I need.”

“I need you too,” he confessed, sitting back on his ankles so that he could look at you spread out beneath him. Even covered in your dingy, well-worn winter clothes, Joel devoured the sight of you unabashedly, his hands roaming from your sides down to your hips and to your thighs as they spread to give his hips room to fit. “Been imagining’ this for years now.”

“Yeah right,” you chuckled a scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t matter if you think I’m lyin’,” he replied, his hands sliding the hem of your sweater up until he was lifting it over your head. “I know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

You wanted to believe that all these years Joel had harbored a desire for you, but the concept just seemed too unrealistic, too fantastical to be true.

“Look at you,” he praised, hands smoothing over the long-untouched skin of your stomach until he was cupping your breasts through your worn-out bra, his eyes exposing his reverence.

“You’re good at flattery,” you teased as you tried not to let yourself read too much into his praise. Just a warm bed. That’s all this was.

Joel said nothing. Instead, he lowered his lips to your sternum, kissing every inch of you he could reach as he slid your bra straps down your shoulders before reaching underneath your arched back to pop the hooks undone.

He looked like a crazed man as he took in the sight of your bare breasts, a subtle growl slipping from his lips as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, the feeling of his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud causing you to buck your hips up against his.

“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging on your belt loops as he pulled himself away from you to stand up off the bed and strip himself.

You struggled with your jeans as you tried not to miss a moment of watching him shed his layers, your hands shaking as they fought with the rigid denim at your ankles before finally freeing yourself. Joel nearly pounced on you as his eye caught a glimpse of the wet patch on your underwear, his hips fitting between your open thighs as he covered your naked body with his own, his cock prodding at your covered mound as he kissed you breathless.

Nothing about him was graceful, nothing about him was tender, but you didn’t want him any other way. You needed to feel his desire for you, to feel how animalistic your body turned him. His rough palms and scratchy beard burned your skin, and you found yourself hoping you’d feel him for weeks to come.

“Can I taste you?” he asked against your pulse as he littered your neck with tiny marks, society far past caring about scandalous things like that.

“Only if you want,” you answered, having never actually experienced a man going down on you before. Joel sat back on his ankles and gave you a wicked half-smirk, his calloused thumb stroking over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“Trust me,” he rasped. “Been thinkin’ about licking you clean since the moment I met you.”

“And yet you never thought to tell me,” you teased, your cheeks heating from his confession.

“You’re at least half my age, sweet thing,” he reasoned as he kissed down your stomach until he was laying between your open thighs. “Never thought you’d want an old man like me in your bed.”

“You need to get your eyes checked, Miller,” you brushed his hair out of his face as he slid your panties off. “You’re beautiful.”

“For an old man?”

“For any man.” Joel turned tender for a moment and met your eyes, his hands that were gripping your thighs now rubbing softly.

“You’re too good for this place,” he murmured as he leaned in, licking a broad strip up your cunt and flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Your back arched off the bed from the jolts of pleasure, your reaction earning you another smile.

“You asking me to—oh—to run away with you, Miller?” you asked between his sloppy laps at your cunt, his tongue feeling better than you could have ever dreamed it up to be.

“I ain’t that crazy,” he husked, voice thick with arousal before he dived back in.

Joel ate you out like a man starved, even though he’d just cooked you the best dinner you’d had in a while. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, to watch him as he shed a layer of himself for you, but you controlled yourself.

“Fuck,” he hummed as his tongue flicked at your swollen bud until your thighs were shaking around his face. “You gonna cum on my tongue, baby?”

Your eyes were squeezed shut but you pried them open to look down at him, nodding furiously. Joel grinned and sucked your clit, the tiny change in pace sending you over the cliffs of bliss without much warning.

“Shit,” you choked out, body shaking and spasming from the first orgasm you’d had in a long time. Joel kept licking at you, but he was soft, gentle, tender.

“You taste like heaven, you know that?” he rasped as he kissed his way up your body until he was sharing your taste with you with his tongue down your throat. You could only mewl and grab at him as he held himself up with one arm and used his other to guide his cock up and down your slick center. “Bet you feel like heaven, too. Can I?”

“Take whatever you need from me, Joel. I’m yours tonight,” you promised, still stuck in a post-climactic haze. Joel moaned as he stuck the tip of his cock inside of you, just enough for you to feel him. “Don’t tease—

“M’not teasin’, just don’t wanna hurt you.” Joel waited a beat before inching in a bit more, his brows screwing up in pleasure. “Also don’t wanna finish as fast as I think I am.”

“I don’t care,” you cooed, drunk on him being only halfway inside of you and still showing up every man you’d ever slept with. “You have all night to impress me.”

“I haven’t already?” he asked, tone hinting at playfulness but it went missed by you as the tip of his cock prodded at something blinding inside of you. “Fuck, that’s it, ain’t it?” He thrust against the spot proudly, a smirk growing on his otherwise wrecked face. “Flutterin’ against me every time I hit it.”

“Joel, fuck,” you whined, gripping him by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

He rested on his elbows, your thighs draped high over his waist as he rocked into you deep and purposefully until you were seeing stars.

“So tight,” he panted in your ear. “So warm. Fuck, you are heaven, ain’t ya?”

“Joel, your cock is so fucking—“ He stole every ounce of coherency from you as he sat back on his heels and pressed your thighs against your chest. With an open jaw and blurry vision, you cried out for him, his thrusts growing harder and more brutal with every plea for more that slipped from your lips.

“God damn—“

“Joel, I’m gonna—“

“Come on, baby. Let me have it.” Joel snarled from the exertion it was taking to fuck you into bliss, but he showed no signs of stopping, his firm hands gripping your thighs to keep them pressed to your chest.

“Oh my god,” you slurred as you entered euphoria for the second time, this time being washed over in it like a cleansing. A sinful, lustful, dirty cleansing.

“Yes!” he growled, grinning with pride. “So fuckin’ good for me. Gonna cum, too. That what you want baby?”

You nodded through your daze. “In my mouth.”

“Jesus—“ he choked on his approval and pulled out of you to crawl over to where your head rested on the pillow, his fist stroking his cock all the while. You opened your eyes, stuck your tongue out, and with a smile you pushed him over the edge. He moaned without care for his volume as his cum painted your tongue, face, and chest with every drop of what he had to offer.

“Mm,” you hummed as you cleaned some of the mess off your chest with your finger and sucked it off. Joel crumbled into the bed against you, his lips cheek against your shoulder while he recovered. “That was nice for just a warm bed.”

“Yeah,” he huffed out a chuckle. “I could…give you a warm bed another time…if you’d like.”

“Well, it is going to be a long winter. Might as well stay warm when I can.” You rolled your head to the side to watch him, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he laid there with his eyes closed, half asleep. “Goodnight, Joel. And…thank you.”

No response came, his snores signaling he was already lost in dreamland. With a content sigh, you stood up and walked into his bathroom to clean yourself off and get dressed.

You didn’t stay in the warmth of his bed that night, or any night thereafter, but you did come back. Over and over again, you came back.

[scoobydoodean]

Hey there, I have SPN Thought Worms i thought you might appreciate: You know how there’s debate wether (in the biblical story) Abraham “failed” God’s test, if it was a blind loyalty test or to see if he’d put his moral and love over unquestioned orders? In the same vein, do you think Dean truly ‘failed’ Death’s test with the ring and carrying out his duties for the day? Like maybe Death actually wanted Dean to be unable to do it bc it proved he had limits or smth? Or did he just get Sam’s soul back despite the apparent failure because he has a massive soft spot for Dean? (relatable tbh). Hope I made myself clear lol, the concept is jumbled-up in my mind, and have a great day!

This is a really interesting question! I also have a feeling I'll have a lot better of an answer when I get to 6.11 on this rewatch and have the entire season fresh on my mind. That said, Death actually says in the end that the goal was for Dean to learn something.

DEATH Today, you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite such fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it? This is hard for you, Dean. You throw away your life because you've come to assume that it'll bounce right back into your lap. But the human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine. So... I think you've learned something today. (x)

I'd really like to watch through season 6 again to solidify this one for myself, but I have a feeling that this isn't about teaching Dean a personal moral lesson at all. I don't think Death is at all concerned with the fact that the nurse died because the little girl didn't from a moral perspective—he wouldn't have ever given Dean his ring if he was. That isn't why he said "good" when Dean said he would have acted differently if he could go back. We can guess it also isn't just a simple lesson about "bringing each other back" being bad and "letting go", because that'd be pretty hypocritical given Death is going to help Dean anyway with no one forcing his hand (and he tells us Dean has use). It isn't a moral issue Death's addressing. It's a lesson he's giving on the structure of the universe. It's about balance. As Death says cryptically later in the scene:

I think what Death wanted to get across to Dean is that souls must pass on, and their energy must be allotted to the appropriate areas in time and space. If one person doesn't die, passing their soul on as energy, another person must die so that a certain balance and energy level is maintained in the universe. Death plans to help Dean from the beginning, because "Right now, you're digging at something. The intrepid Detective. I want you to keep digging, Dean."

Death, as a person who can't ultimately involve himself without also disrupting balance, is ultimately hinting at Dean as best he knows how that he wants him to stop Crowley and Cas from sucking a bunch of souls out of Purgatory, creating absolute chaos. But he can't say that, so instead, he gives Dean a lesson. He tells Dean that human souls are extremely valuable, and that they need to go to the places the universe wants them to go and stay there. If they don't—if they are moved on a large scale—something terrible will happen. Death has to expect Dean to extrapolate all of this information, which is not an easy expectation to fulfill.

So I guess to summarize: I don't think Dean failed Death's test, because actually using the ring and experiencing what happened when Dean tried to change things was more of a lesson than a test. The test was how Dean reflected on the lesson after and evaluated his behavior. He passed when he said he'd behave differently if he could go back. Death wanted Dean to understand the idea of balance in the universe depending on where souls go, and how important it is not to disrupt their flow or move them around. Changing things makes bad things happen. When there's just one soul, the impact is small (something Death is willing to let Dean toy with by offering his ring for the day). But what if someone disrupted the flow of many many souls at once?

[alumort]

Ao3

HIYA so i havent been promoting new fics here bc.. i forgor.. but i rlly like this one

exploring nejis mental illness through fic /hj (nejilee exes that later date while shikalee married, polyam moment... but that wont happen until maany chapters go on XD)

Hope you enjoy (if u do id love to read your thoughts on this... ty....)

He was on the battlefield, protecting his cousin from a certain death– fulfilling his role as a Side branch member at last, following his destiny that no matter how hard he tried to fight, Neji knew well it was just bound to happen one day.

He had received the attack for her, no matter what his fate would be. All the boy knew is that it would still be way better than what the Main branch would do to him, had they known that he didn’t die for one of the heiresses…

Neji fell to the ground, body going numb in mere seconds. He could see blood escaping from where the wooden stakes had hit him, and from his mouth– he was dying, and there was nothing to do to avoid it.

“NEJI!” a familiar voice screamed, and he was held in someone's arms– Lee was crying while holding him, lips shaking as he spoke.

But Neji couldn’t hear whatever it was that his boyfriend said, for his ears were ringing too loudly to even let him think; all he knew was that he would die soon, see his father once more after so many years…

And he closed his eyes, awaiting for the sweet peace of death, knowing he could do nothing to avoid his fate. Even if he survived somehow, his Clan wouldn’t allow him to live freely, forcing him to marry a woman he didn’t even know just for appearance’s sake.

Not being able to be with Lee… it was better just to die in his arms, to wait for him on the other side.

His eyes soon saw a bright light, and Neji knew it was time to go. Though his head hurt afterwards, and his eyes seemed to open on their own, as if waking up from a long, long nap. He felt exhausted as hell. The brunet just wanted to go back to sleep once more, so comfortable on his bed that he didn't want to wake up at all; He was tired. Why couldn't he just go and rest for a bit longer? Although his body probably wouldn't allow it, knowing himself. His back hurt a lot.

Much less when the boy could feel two people around him, judging by how little his senses could tell him– a familiar chakra accompanied by someone unknown, though neither of them had any kind of malicious intent.

“Papa, I think he's awake,” he heard one of them say, and only then did the brunet open an eye again, enough to see but to not be affected by the light. “Um– good morning, Neji.”

Another voice chuckled at this, and it wasn’t someone he didn’t know; rather, it was different… Deeper, somehow. Changed.

“Metal, he has been asleep for a decade, I do not think he will–”

And then he saw it– the same face he had fallen in love with, albeit more tired, older… shocked to be able to look at his eyes, as if it was an oddity of sorts.

Lee immediately went towards him, a clear confusion in his face as he analyzed the situation, unable to believe it at all. Neji tried to speak but only a weak cough was able to escape from his lips, and no matter how hard he tried he wasn't able to even lift an arm. His body was too tired, deteriorated for some reason he couldn't understand.

Though, if what Lee had said was true… that would mean he had been in a coma for a long, long time. No wonder his muscles had gotten atrophied due to not being used at all for years.

Of course. Ten years had passed, and he hadn't moved a single millimeter of his body.

“Neji?! You are– you woke up! It has been so long!” his boyfriend said, and Neji could tell he was trying to hold back tears; careful as always, Lee attempted to hold his hands, still not comprehending what was going on but joyful nonetheless. “Oh, Neji, we thought you would never– but you woke up!”

“But– but I told you he would do it!” Metal chimed in with a pout, crossing his arms against his chest.

Now that the brunet could get a better view of his companions, he realized Lee had a beautiful ring on one of his fingers, and that the small boy was… pretty much a copy of him, albeit with some changes. Neji felt his head hurting due to the mix of confusion and shock, and not being able to say anything only agitated him more.

Of course. Life had gone on, an entire decade had passed, and Lee continued with his life. Anyone would have in his place, yet… Neji felt a pang in his heart.

“L… love,” he managed to mumble after long, long seconds, and Lee just… let go of his hands, denying with his head at the mention of the nickname.

Metal was the most confused out of the three now, looking from one adult to the other for answers without saying anything at all.

“Neji, I– I never imagined I would speak with you again. I am married, and I have children now,” the taijutsu master replied, looking away. His son observed the situation in silence, looking a bit anxious now. “Shikamaru and I… it just happened. We can still be friends, but that is it.”

He had been expecting it, yet Lee's words didn't hurt less; Neji felt his heart shattering in pieces on the spot, lips trembling– he looked away, not really in the mood to look his now-ex in the eyes anymore. Only wanting to be swallowed by the thin hospital blanket covering his body.

“... fine,” Neji muttered, feeling tears threatening to go out, though he just inhaled to calm himself down and… repress them, as usual.

“I will help you with whatever you need to heal, alright? I probably need to call the nurse… but you will not be alone on this, Neji. I will make sure of that!” Lee added in an attempt to cheer him up, though the brunet wasn't listening anymore.

He felt alone, anyways, with his mind stuck years in the past. Not even his companion's bright smile managed to fill the newfound hole in his heart– and honestly, he just wanted to rest, close his eyes and fall into the same deep slumber he had just gotten out of.

His fate had always been the worst, and it was clearer with every passing day. It would've been better if he had just died during the war– that way, Neji would've never seen Lee moving on without him, he wouldn't be struggling with his lack of movements and newfound weakness.

It was a torture. His boyfriend– ex, was so close yet so far, and the doctors immediately went to help him recover as fast as they could. Sakura personally was supervising his case no matter how complicated being the Hokage and the Head Doctor was at the same time, wanting to heal him as possible.

But it was complicated– he had no reason to heal, after all. So why bother? Neji didn't feel any kind of enthusiasm about getting out of the hospital, knowing well he would be alone again, unable to even walk on his own because of his damaged muscles… he hated how slow he had become, not only in his movements but also in reading.

His brain had forgotten certain words and phrases, and kanji was not an easy task anymore. Neji didn't like going back to the beginning, even if the doctors said it was good for him.

He should've just died. That would've been more merciful, but fate had never been kind. Of course it would keep him alive, solely to play with his feelings… he should've expected it.

[sattlersquarry]

Worse Than Ghosts [Part III] (Steve Harrington x Reader BFU AU)

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE. READ PART ONE HERE. READ PART TWO HERE. READ THE FINAL PART HERE.

Summary: Y/N tells her friends about her past trauma and they make a plan to (hopefully) defeat the demon at the Creel House. Afraid of what might happen, Steve finds the courage to speak his truth...

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: Language, description of near-death experience (drowning/riptides), fear of drowning and deep water, fluff, first kiss and a nice dose of making out with Steve Harrington (bc who wouldn't want that?!). Also brief allusions to weed (ily Argyle let me smoke with you) and sex.

There will be one more part after this! Thanks to everyone who has read along, commented, and/or reblogged!

Y/N sobbed in the backseat of their rental van, wishing she was anywhere in the world except Hawkins, Indiana. 

She was cursed to die by the same demon that had killed the Creels, Chrissy Cunningham, and Jason Carver. Why? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t care to find out. She just wanted to be uncursed. 

A light knock on the van window alerted her to Steve’s presence. He waved at her through the window, giving her a small smile. She quickly wiped her tears away and opened the door for him. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I join?”

Y/N nodded, scooting over on the bench seat. Steve climbed in next to her and handed her a to-go box.

“I brought your lunch,” he said. 

“Thanks,” she said, voice hoarse from crying, “but I’m not hungry.” 

Steve nodded, moving the box to the side.

“Do you think I can get the others,” Steve asked gently, “and you can talk about what’s going on?” 

Y/N wanted to cry some more, but knew that wouldn’t do any good. 

“Sure,” she said flatly.

Steve waved the Spirit Search crew over. They stood in a semi-circle outside the open van door.

“Heyyy, Y/N,” Argyle said, with the fakest smile Y/N had ever seen. “How’s it going?”

“Bad,” Y/N deadpanned. 

“Do you maybe want to elaborate on what you said in there?” Jonathan said. “You know, about you dying tonight?” 

Y/N took a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself. Steve hesitated, and then placed a hand on her shoulder. The touch anchored Y/N, giving her the strength to tell her tale. 

“When I was ten years old,” she said, “I almost drowned in the ocean.” 

She stared at her scuffed-up sneakers, unable to look the others in the eye as she recounted that horrible day.

“I wasn’t supposed to swim that day,” Y/N continued. “It was stormy and there was a riptide warning. But I was a dumb kid who thought I was invincible, and my grandparents’ beach house was on a private beach, so there was no lifeguard to tell me not to.”

Memories churned in her mind: the sensation of weightlessness, of powerlessness, as she was dragged through the dark, inky waves and pulled underneath the current. Saltwater burning her lungs, choking her, enveloping her—

“I don’t even remember how I got saved,” Y/N admitted. “I think my dad pulled me out. One second, I was gasping for air under the waves, and the next, I’m puking up seawater in the sand dunes, my family screaming and crying and yelling at me for being such an idiot.” 

“You weren’t an idiot,” Steve said. He squeezed her shoulder before removing his hand—Y/N wished he wouldn’t, missing the warm touch. “You were just a kid.”

“A stupid, stupid kid,” Y/N mumbled. “That day has haunted me ever since then. I don’t swim at all any more. Not in oceans, not in lakes, not even in freaking swimming pools.” 

“Wait,” Robin said, eyes squinting as she brainstormed. “Nancy said the Creel family saw their worst memories because of this demon. Have you been reliving your near-death experience?” 

Y/N nodded.

“Yeah. Last night, I had these insane nightmares about it. This morning, in the Creel House attic, I had a hallucination where I almost drowned in saltwater. It happened a third time when I passed out in the library. This thing is targeting me, and I’m willing to bet it’s going to try and kill me next.” 

A tense silence followed. 

“But why?” Steve said, after a moment. “Why did the demon go after you?”

“Maybe because we went into his house and he got pissed,” Argyle said. 

“But the nightmares started before we went to his house!” Y/N said. 

“Maybe the demon doesn’t just operate out of the house,” Jonathan said. “Remember Eddie’s story, about the cheerleader in the nineties? She started having problems before she ever got near the house on prom night.” 

“Can a demon do that?” Y/N asked. “Have jurisdiction over a whole town?”

“I don’t see why not,” Robin said. “Maybe this town is built on something cursed. Like in Poltergeist!”

“Shit, man,” Argyle moaned. “This is too trippy. I need some Purple Palm Tree Delight if we’re going to keep talking demons.” 

“You need a clear head if we’re going to figure this out,” Jonathan said. “We can smoke as much as we want once we’ve stopped the demon terrorizing Y/N.”

“How do we stop it?” Steve said. “How do we kill a demon?” 

“You don’t kill a demon,” Robin said. “You exorcize it.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a huff. “Fine. You and Argyle are the official believers of the group. How do we exorcize a demon?”

“We need Holy Water to start,” Robin said. She unzipped her belt bag and procured a travel-sized shampoo bottle. “I bring a tiny bit everywhere, but it’s not enough for a demon this intense, and we can’t exactly buy Holy Water from the corner store.” 

“This is Indiana!” Steve said. “There’s a church on every corner. We can just steal some.”

“Steal Holy Water from a church?!” Jonathan said. “Dude!” 

“What?” Steve said. “Desperate times! Jesus would understand. He forgives sinners, right?” 

“We don’t need to steal Holy Water from a church,” Y/N said. “We can buy multiple gallons of ‘secular water’ from a grocery store and bring it to a church to be blessed. Robin, what else do we need?”

“We should bring a Bible.”

“Which,” Steve said, “we can—”

“Don’t say steal from a church!” Robin warned. 

“Borrow from a church,” Steve corrected, “with the purest of intentions.”

“Nearly every hotel in America has a Gideon Bible in the nightstand,” Jonathan said. “I’d be willing to bet our motel is one of them.”

“Thank you Gideon!” Argyle whooped. After a beat, he added, “Wait, who’s Gideon?” 

“Thirdly,” Robin said, “we need tech. My spirit box, more precisely, to try and communicate with this thing.” 

“And we need weapons!” Steve blurted out.

“Weapons?!” Jonathan scoffed. “For something without a physical form?”

“This demon thing is unhinged!” Steve said. “What if he’s strong enough to, like, manifest himself a body?! We need to cover our bases.” 

“I hate to agree with the dingus,” Robin said, “but he might be right about this. Better to be over than underprepared.” 

“Are you guys serious about this?” Y/N said, eyes wide. “You’re willing to throw yourselves in the path of a psycho demon for me?” 

“Of course,” Steve said. “Y/N, we’re not going to let him take you without a fight.” 

“We’re like a family,” Robin added. “An uber-dysfunctional ghost-hunting family.”

“The only spirits that can mess with one of our own,” Argyle said, “are the fun, Casper-style ones.”

Y/N was honored. For the first time all day, she smiled. 

“Okay,” Jonathan said. “Let’s gather our exorcism equipment. Then, back to the Creel House to end this.”

👻 👻 👻

The plan was set: Robin headed to a local store to get bottled water (lots of it). Then, she’d bring it to a local Catholic church to be blessed. Argyle and Jonathan planned to go to a hunting goods store to get some weapons. Steve and Y/N went back to the motel for the Gideon Bible. Then, the five of them would meet back at their van and drive to the Creel House. 

In her and Robin’s motel room, Y/N pulled open the nightstand drawer and sighed with relief. She pulled the Bible out of the drawer.

“Thank God, literally,” she said. “They’ve got one.”

She sank onto the edge of her bed and clutched the book close to her chest. Steve sat next to her. If he shifted a millimeter closer, their thighs would touch. Y/N’s heart fluttered with something she couldn’t quite name. 

“You feeling okay?” Steve said. “Any more freaky visions?”

“Not since the library,” she said. “But I can…feel something. You know? Like I can tell the demon’s still there. Waiting. For what, I’m not sure. I don’t want to fucking find out.” 

“We’re going to stop it before it comes back for you,” Steve said firmly. “I promise, Y/N. And, maybe, once we’ve done that…we can finally go see that movie.” 

“You still want to see a movie with me?” she said, forcing out a laugh. “Even though I’m a demon-magnet?”

“For you?” Steve said, nudging her shoulder with a smile, “I’ll take the risk.”

He reached over and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, eyes sparkling. Y/N’s mood soured when she realized what was happening. 

She turned away and grumbled, “Okay, cut it out.” 

Steve retracted his hand, eyebrows knitted together. 

“Uh, cut what out?” 

Y/N scoffed and stalked across the room, tossing the Bible onto Robin’s bed. It bounced off the mattress and onto the floor with a thwump! 

“I’m not one of your fawning fangirls,” Y/N said sharply, “or your hookup of the week. Quit flirting with me to mess with me.” 

Steve’s face contorted into a scowl. He stood from Y/N’s bed and mirrored her body language, crossing his arms as well. 

“I am not messing with you!” he snapped. “Do you seriously think that little of me? That I’m flirting with you as some kind of sick joke?!”

“I don’t think little of you! But c’mon, Steve: you flirt with every girl you meet.” 

“I do not!” Steve said. Off Y/N’s eye roll, he sighed and corrected: “Okay, I don’t anymore.”

He cleared his throat and hyper-focused on his Nikes. 

“The last few months,” he said, voice quieter than usual, “I’ve only flirted with one girl, actually. One girl that I really, really like.”

Y/N chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t want to dare to hope he was saying what she thought.

“Tell me about this girl,” she whispered.

“For one,” Steve said, “she’s smart.” With each new sentence, he cautiously stepped closer to her. “And she’s organized. Without her, this show would fall apart. Robin created the show, but this girl is the heart and soul of Spirit Search. The glue that keeps us together.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath to get the courage to keep going.

“She has this weird quirk where she says hotel vending machine candy is better,” he said. He chuckled, a lovestruck beam spreading across his face. “It’s not. It really isn’t! It’s all from the same manufacturer. But if she asked me to, if it would make her smile, I’d go to every hotel this side of the Mississippi and get her peanut M&Ms from each one's vending machine.”

A hazy warmth spread through Y/N head-to-toe. 

“Steve…”

“She’s also insanely beautiful,” Steve blurted out. He stood so close now, he could reach out and touch her. She wanted him to touch her, so much. “Like, seriously, it’s unreal how gorgeous she is. I like her so much, and sometimes, I get the feeling that she feels the same as me, but she’s holding back…and I don’t understand why.”

Y/N’s heart melted. She wanted to kiss him, but he kept talking—

“If I’m absolutely reading this wrong and she doesn’t feel the same,” Steve said, “that’s okay. It won’t affect our friendship or working partnership.” 

“Steve—”

“And I’m scared,” Steve said, eyes wide with fear, “because she’s in real danger right now and everything I believed about the world is wrong! I don’t really know how I feel about that, but I know how I feel about her. And I couldn’t not tell her how I feel before we throw ourselves into danger. But again, if she doesn’t feel the same—”

Y/N grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled his lips against hers.

For a moment, he froze. Then, he kissed her back with fervor, hands gently squeezing her waist.

Only one word could properly summarize how it felt kissing Steve like this: intoxicating. Y/N always assumed the crush she harbored was unrequited, that niche-internet-micro-celebrity Steve Harrington would never seriously be interested in his mousy producer. But the way he held her close now, the way he murmured her name between kisses, made her realize she’d noticed his advances but denied the very-real weight behind them out of fear and insecurity. 

If her experience with this demon taught her anything, it was that life was too short to live in fear.

Y/N’s foot caught on the corner of the discarded Bible, causing her to stumble forward into Steve. They fell onto one of the mattresses. Y/N mumbled out apologies and scrambled back to her feet. 

Steve, cheeky as ever, grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“Trying to get me in bed already?” he teased, leaning up on his elbows. “You move fast.” 

“If I’m cursed to die by the hand of a demon,” Y/N said with her own sly smile, “I might as well enjoy myself before I go.”

Steve’s pocket started blasting a Queen song: his ringtone. 

Steve sighed, annoyed at being interrupted, and pulled out his phone.

“It’s Robin,” he said, putting it on speaker. “Hey, Rob, what’s up?”

“The water has been blessed!” Robin cheered. “And I bought some water pistols. This demon’s not going to know what hit him when we bring out these bad boys. Did you guys find a Bible?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, picking it up off the floor. “We got it.” 

“Great! Head back to the van. I just spoke with Jon and Argyle, and they’re wrapping up too.” 

Steve and Y/N promised they’d head back to the meeting spot. After the call ended, Y/N wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and gave him another quick kiss. 

She leaned her forehead against his.

“I really hope we kill this fucking demon,” she said, “so we can do that a lot, lot more.” 

“You and me both,” Steve said. “C’mon, let’s go. Unless you think we have a few more minutes…”

“Priorities, Steve.”

“Right, of course. The demon. Let’s go.”

👻 👻 👻

Tags (I'm also tagging some mutuals & others that have expressed interest in this series! Thank you so much for your comments and reblogs!): @thehauntingof-nancywheeler @mxltifxnd0m @lilysnotes @writtenfromhawkins @stevebabey @spideystevie @musicmoviestv @wutheringplights

A/N: ONLY ONE MORE PART BABYYYY. And it's going to be a TRIP.

[vacantgodling]

40%. If your character were to come face to face with their darkest fears in a nightmare, what would be the scene?

thank you for asking!! this did take me a bit to answer tho rip,,, i’m gonna do this for the main tcol kiddos bc they have more interesting answers 🌚

forte’s nightmare would be set at his family home in bass landing. it would be quiet; eerily quiet; his small neighborhood is always bursting with sounds whether it be from the forest or the river or the bugs or the sounds of the singing and laughter from townsfolk. just dead silence. he would creep up to his home, on edge but realize that he has no weapons. he decides he’ll make do. he pushes open the door to his home and instead of finding his family dead or alive there’s nothing. there’s just…. lingering tension. everything is perfect too perfect; nothing is out of place. he can’t help but feel like something is wrong yet there isn’t anything he can point to to explain that.

clear is a hard one to have nightmares bc he’s been through so much so much of his worst nightmares are honestly reliving old memories. the one that does terrify him the most is the argument he had with his father when he ran away from home. there was shouting, his mother and siblings cowering in the corner, and his father condemning him for everything he’s ever done wrong in his eyes and for wanting to leave at all and just. feeling the weight of his disappointment makes clear unable to breathe 😞

deux’s nightmares always happen on a cliff. she’s standing there with her older brother, and they’re talking again! she feels happy and like things are going back to normal, and they’re looking over the mountains like they used to as children… until her brother stands. turns his back to her and calls her weak or worthless or anything like that. when she tries to reach for him, the cliff they’re on breaks apart — and depending on the nightmare either she’ll fall into darkness or he will. just depends on how her brain wants to fuck with her! if she falls off the cliff then it’s the fear that if something happens her brother won’t save her. if he falls off the cliff then it’s her fear that he’s right and she’s too weak to save him.

san’s nightmares tend to be repetitive; she’s doing some task over and over again and others are moving forward and winning or completing the task but she’s stuck in this limbo. like for instance she’ll be running a race but the finish line is always so far away. when people pass them, they’ll say oh they’re so slow oh they aren’t as competent as they say they are. so they’ll run faster and harder to try and get there… but nothing changes. she can’t give up though bc that would be worse than this purgatory so eventually she just burns herself out.

piper tbh does not have nightmares at least until after a particular canon event happens and it’s just reliving that moment so i’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s a MAJORRR spoiler

piper’s nightmares are always her reliving keevan’s death over and over. nothing ever changes and she can never save him and it haunts her.

[plushbunbun-blog]

Video's Last Patient

Video's reference sheet above. Her "short" story below. (WARNING: suicide, death, murder) Video was on a walk like she did any other night, when an addison fell flat on the ground in front of her. Green addison stared in shock at what happened just now but quickly realised she's not looking at a dead body yet. Building was tall, bot seemed not tall enough to kill the suicidal fool. He looked pretty... broken nonetheless. Video, knowing how will it end if she'll leave him, patched him up as fast and as good as she could and took him to her sheltered place (name it home but it's a really small apartment with covered windows).

Vid tried to force some healing food in him but he was unable to swallow. So she fed him some liquid to keep him alive and to let him at least start the healing process.

After two weeks or so, the addison started responding to being fed. Healing sped up from there.

Third week, the addison opens his eyes and tries to talk. Video was fine with him not speaking but once she heard a sound coming out of him she ducked behind a desk, nervously checking if he's moving or not. He got into sitting position while groaning from pain and looked around. Then she heard him speak full sentence for the first time since she brought him here.

"What the hell?". Silence . . . "Who the fuck are you??"

She shuddered, made a weird sound and tried to curl into a smallest ball possible.

"Stop pretending you're not here. Who are you??"

It took a long while and a lot of stuttering from the green addison to answer to any of his questions.

"I'm Video!" She shouted and ducked down again. Addison on the bed was silent for a second.

"I'm . . . I'm Copycat". He said, not sure how to continue the conversation.

But somehow they did.

It took days for Video to get at least a little comfortable around Copycat. But she had to, since Copy couldn't walk on his own yet.

The week passed and the question showed up. Video knew it would eventually come.

"Why did you save me?"

Video didn't know how to answer while not being honest.

"It felt like the right thing to do. You almost fell on me so I wasn't fine after seeing you on the ground, too"

Copy, for the first time since waking up, showed a real and honest expression. It looked like mix of quilt and fear.

"I... didn't know that could happen. I didn't think about it.. " He said silently, almost whispering.

"Why you wanted to end this like that? I don't know what happened in your life but-"

"Exactly. You don't know. So don't try to say you know anything" He cut her and went silent again. Vid was ready for that answer. It wasn't first time someone snapped at her like that.

Later that day she spoke to him again.

"I was a therapist, you know?" She said while giving him food. He looked at her with surprised smile.

"Pff, YOU? How when you look like needing one yourself??" He laughed a little. Vid just smiled politely.

"I did say I was, not that I still am" She looked away, kinda dozing off. Copy stopped laughing and got curious instead.

"What happened then?"

"It's too long of an answer. It doesn't matter anyway.. Not anymore" She answered. Her eyes looked empty while she cleaned the dishes.

It took a really long time to make Copy speak up. But Video wasn't pushy. She gave him time and was giving gentle treatment while sharing some information about herself to gain his trust. Eventually Copycat said what caused him to break.

He murdered someone. He admitted it wasn't a problem that he did it, it wasn't first time. But it was the first time killing someone possibly innocent. And he did it wrong. His victim died in pain and it took a long time before she stopped breathing. It was an order and he was starwing, he couldn't decline. But he couldn't take the last look she gave him. It was haunting, begging look of someone desperate to live.

After long days of insomnia and quilt he just wanted to rest. He broke down into a sobby mess, shaking and apologising over and over. Vid let him cry himself out.

After a few weeks Copycat started slowly getting better. But he still didn't know how to start anew.

"Why you want me to live so much?" He was asking from time to time. Vid couldn't answer how she wanted to and went with some therapy lines. It wasn't working well, but it was better than not saying anything. She couldn't tell him the truth just yet.

Copy eventually started leaving her place, going to store all by himself and resocializing. He looked and felt better and better every new day. But Video started feeling weaker and more dim.

One day, Video asked Copycat over. She asked if she can look into his memories. At first Copy didn't understand, She explained that it's how her ability works. She can take an USB wire from her wrist and plug herself to another Addison and learn about everythng what happened in it's life while her patient goes into a sleeping state.

"It's like watching a movie, but with feeling what you did at the moment" She said. After long thinking, Copy agreed but warned her she might hate him afterwards. She assured him that she would never. Copy lay down on the bed and let Vid do the thing.

When he woke up, he noticed Vid, sitting on the bed, facing away from him.

"How was it?" He asked, not sure what to expect

". . ."

"Video?"

"I... need to go outside" She stuttered and stormed out while covering her face. Copy felt fear, thinking she doesn't want to know him anymore.

He failed to see she was crying.

She came back in the morning, reassuring Copy that she wasn't abandoning him. But she admitted that he can't stay with her forever. So a few days later, he left.

He was coming over to her often. To talk, to share, to hang out. But she was becoming weaker and weaker each time. Even faster since he left. He noticed it and asked her what's wrong, but she didn;t want to tell him. So he just continued to visit her as often as he could.

One day, after being gone for a bit longer, he showed up with a bouquet in his hands and knocked on the door. He wanted to thank her yet again and share some news. But she didn't answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. Growing worried, he tried to open the lock on the door. Turns out the door was open, so he let himself in. She was sitting next to the bed, loosely. Almost falling over. She wasn't breathing. It was the first time he has seen her in a regular shirt. That's when Copycat realised why she was always covering her body with long sleeved hoodies, turtlenecks, gloves and scarves. At first he thought she was cutting herself. But that was worse.

On her fingertips and on her neck were dark, awful marks. They looked like a weird virus you would see only in a horror movies.

She was being eaten alive by a disease, like a human cancer. For possibly years. Knowing there was no cure. He now knew why she saved him. It was so selfish, but it got to him more than any of her other advises.

She wanted HIM to live because SHE was the one who didn't want to die. She wanted her last patient to live on, for her.

That day, Copycat cried more than he did ever before and after in his life. And never tried to take his own life again.

[barkspawn]

The Sound of Silence

Prologue: Albert and Amelia

I'm in the midst of writing a Stardew Valley fanfic. I have the link to the Ao3 on another post and below as well. It's been so long since I've written or RP'd. However, I started playing SDV and a certain man and his frogs got me feelin' creative. I am DYING because I am having so much fun writing this and writing little books to @sheacrowley when it comes to ideas. She's the real MVP.

Please give me all of the constructive criticism your heart desires. Or praise, that feels nice too.

The Sound of Silence is a SebastianxFarmer fic with a sprinkle of the other bachelors bc I feel like they're all a lil flirty when you get their hearts up, so everyone is into the farmer (for the most part).

CW: Domestic Violence, Depression, Anxiety, intrusive thoughts, self-depreciation, minor and major injury, self-harm (maybe), drinking and smoking cigarettes. NOTE: These will be updated as the chapters are written

___________________________________________________________

Amelia Rowe needed to get out of Joja and her relationship.

After an argument, something clicked and she made her escape to the farm that her grandfather left behind close to 20 years ago. She made fast friends with the town doctor and the local goofball, and she was seemingly tolerated by his broody (unfairly attractive) best friend.

Will she be able to start fresh without her past ruining everything? Will she be able to put it all behind her or will she be unable to keep the dark thoughts under control?

****** The prologue can be skipped - it is all backstory and, while helpful, it will not make or break the story. Ao3 link at end*****

Albert Rowe (affectionately called Pop) renamed the farm Stardop Fields after 50 years because he found one of the strange fruit after making it deep into the mines in his search for ore. Upon tasting it, his mind was engulfed in the thoughts of his late wife, Margie.

Previously, Pop worked in a steel mill off on the east coast by the Chesapeake Bay. He grew tired of his life there, the danger and overworking weighing heavily on his soul and his health. He gathered every penny of his savings and bought a plot of land in the Ferngill Republic, quickly falling in love with the life of farming. Soon after, he pursued the heart of Margie (despite the initial reluctance on her part).

Al was 24 when he moved to Stardew Valley and married Margie after just 6 seasons of living there. They were married for 49 years before Margie suffered a stroke and passed away. He quickly took to art in his spare time, drawing and painting anything that took his interest. He loved to draw self-portraits and ads (whether parodies or realistic) for some of his favorite products. He even won a small bit of gold in a contest for a shaving company. Naturally, he had that portrait framed.

Together, they raised two children, both girls that were raised in a home full of love and hard work. Amelia’s mother, Joy, was the younger of the two, being 31 when Amelia was born. She has one older sister, Helen. Her aunt, Janet, was 4 years older with two children, Jane and Eliza.

She didn’t talk to her aunt or cousins very often. She got closer to Eliza when Aunt Jane passed away during an unfortunate complication during surgery. Given that her uncle was estranged and committed, Amelia’s mother adopted Eliza, 13, at the time of her Mother’s death. Amelia was 10. Jane, already 24, had gone off on her own, living in another state with her fiancé. Unfortunately, all contact had been lost.

Amelia’s father was nothing short of abusive toward both Amelia and Helen, though he seemed to take out most of his anger on Helen. Joy had been married to Dan for 10 years before he cheated on her with an employee. Joy found the text messages in a second cell phone he bought without her knowing. She endured most of his verbal abuse, and the infidelity was a welcome out from the marriage.

Amelia immediately became depressed, her grandfather having passed only 2 years prior. He was her hero, introducing her to art. She would spend a week or so every summer in Pelican Town, learning the basics of farming. Her favorite moments were when Pop spent time teaching her to draw and paint.

Within just two years after leaving Dan, Joy had ran in to an old friend, soon rekindling an old friendship that turned into a marriage. Charles was an incredible man, quickly taking the father role for Eliza, Helen, and Amelia. They loved him as such, though he was very clear that while he loved the two of them like his own children, he could never replace their biological fathers. He didn’t want them to think he was trying to assume that role, which Amelia found more than admirable. After 5 years, Amelia worked with her mother to go through an official adoption process with him. He was a large, burly man, but he definitely was a softie at heart. He most certainly shed happy tears on that day.

While Amelia grew up battling depression and anxiety, she managed to get it under control during college. She went to a private college, studying both biology and theater as her majors, the latter to her mother’s disapproval. She had dreams of Broadway or going on tour with a travelling theater. Her mother was a doctor in an emergency room, growing to be an inspiration as well. Joy taught her many things about advanced first aid in hopes that she would follow in her footsteps. Amelia wasn’t so dense as to think that acting was a definite for her career, so she pursued biology as a backup. She fully intended to go forward into medical school, but she found herself overwhelmed with the workload and dropped the major altogether.

Because of this decision, she ended up working for Joja Mart after college. She searched for years for ways to join the actor's equity union or ways to be on stage at all. She acted in community theater productions, but after college, they seemed campy an, for lack of a better word, amateur. She found herself cringing at the basic rules of the art being broken as well as craving the professional part of the life. Unfortunately, she fell back into a depression, feeling discouraged and losing all motivation to do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

At 24, she met Kristoff. They hit it off immediately and fell into a whirlwind romance. Before she knew it, she was living with him. It was four years later and she was deeply unhappy, finding herself in a consistent state of feeling numb. She had stopped doing any performing at all. Behind closed doors, Kristoff was controlling. If there was an argument or something went wrong, it was always her to blame. Kristoff was one of the biggest managers in Joja corp, and yet she was still only an assistant manager in a small, grody store on the west side of Zuzu. In public, he was a model boyfriend. After all, appearances were everything.

She moved to Zuzu city with big dreams. She wanted to sing; if not in the theater, then in some way, shape, or form. Kristoff would never let this happen, though he once told her that maybe she could sing at an upcoming Joja event; She hadn’t been that excited in years. As it turns out, it was a way for Kristoff to discourage her enough to give her whole life to Joja as he had. There were many arguments in the time after that. The more bold Amelia got in defending herself, the more angry Kristoff got. The yelling and throwing things led quickly to him slapping her or grabbing her by the arms, an attempt to shake sense in to her by force. Even their sex life grew violent. He never forced anything on her, but it was as if she became a toy: nothing but something to get him off... and he was rough, which Amelia didn't mind at first. He seemed to like how it felt to express his anger in this way, the shocked, almost scared look in her eyes the first time his fingers found her throat quickly becoming his favorite thing. If he wasn't choking her as he fucked her, she was on her knees with a fistful of her hair in his hand and tears brimming in her eyes from the treatment he gave her throat. She often was bruised; the main place often being her hips or waist. She knew how this would look to someone on the outside looking in, but she never did say no. She didn't stop him. She kissed him back for the fraction of a second he allowed that affection. She even begged when he asked her to. He was always so stressed and she loved him, so she didn't mind helping him release that tension. Even if she had to finish on her own. She was just being there for him, right?

She had become complacent.

______________________________________________________

Let me know if this formatting works please. I've never posted directly to Tumblr.

Ao3 Link:

[worriedvision]

So I'm cropping out the rest of the ask BC I wouldn't be comfortable with writing it, however I have an idea for this! Gender neutral reader. A bit of violence is mentioned, but there is no blood or gore.

“Are you being serious? Another mission? When did we last have a proper date, Ajax?” You go off on him, hearing about his explanation as to why he had been a no show for yet another date. The two of you had been working hard, but the difference between yourself and your boyfriend was the fact that you at least had enough time in the day, or on your day off, to work on hobbies. Ajax, however, had been dedicated to the Fatui, for a reason that you didn’t fully understand. Sure, he really liked a good fight, but surely he had other aspects to his person? After all, why else would he be interested in someone like you, a mere shop worker who put in more effort than anyone else? The way you both got together started when you managed to settle debt problems, and your way of standing up for yourself was refreshing for Tartaglia. 

“Oh, not this again...” Tartaglia groans out, running a hand down his face before gritting his teeth together. “We’ve had this discussion many times, _. How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not the main priority in my life? Work comes first.” He roars out at the end, prompting some people outside to look over in concern. 

“Work isn’t the only aspect to life, Ajax!” You retort, arms flailing at the frustration of your boyfriends unnatural dedication to work. “You’re going to burn out if you-”

“I’m not you, you know?” Ajax crosses his arms, closing his eyes to attempt to ground himself. “You know, sometimes I wished I took up the chance to date-”

“Oh, and now you’re bringing up that fatui agent who was making lots of flirty comments to you the one time we managed to go on a date recently? I wouldn’t even call that a date, considering they whisked you away for work!” You sigh out, nails digging into your palms as you’re beginning to get paranoid about what the fatui agent may or may not have done to him.

“Well I actually have something in common with them, _! We don’t have anything to bond over, seriously. Sometimes I want to take you on a mission with me, but I know you’d be unable to hold your ground.” Tartaglia explains, getting more soft as he’s realising that this might be the end of the relationship. If he wasn’t careful with his words, you’d be gone forever.

“...Have you been planning my death, Ajax? Is that why you started dating me after I settled those debts?”  You blankly ask, finding it unsettling how long it took Ajax to even look at you after contemplating something.  When he still doesn’t say a word, you leave, not another word escaping you. 

--

A few days pass after that argument, and you know deep down that the relationship would have never worked out with him. Really, he would have been more attracted to a fatui agent who knew how to stand for themselves not only mentally, but physically. 

Which is why you’re hating the idea of transporting these goods to a neighbouring nation. Taking a deep breath, you can only hope your god is watching over you, making sure of your safety. Unfortunately, treasure hoarders see your cart of goods, and they ambush you. Initially, they were hesitant to move in - they knew you as someone who had connections to the Fatui. However, after they see how utterly defeated you looked, they assumed these connections were long gone. 

So, they go in. 

You didn’t stand a chance, even despite the fact none of the treasure hoarders were using their weapons. They kick you to the ground, and they rob you off everything on your person, another set of treasure hoarders dragging the cart away to their base and laughing at your pathetic attempts to block the kicks as you’re crumpled on the ground. In a moment of what you could only assume to be stupidity, you revert to attacking, weakly swinging at the treasure hoarders. Your weak spots now exposed to them. After a few more attacks, you pass out. 

The last thing you hear is a frantic set of footsteps, eyes closing as you can only hear the muffled slashes as you enter a deep sleep.

[elius-learns-to-write]

hi! omg i luv ur blog 💘 can i request/suggest (kinda angsty but then fluffy) where r has trouble sleeping and a lot of nightmares/anxiety & mother!nat is there to comfort her? 🥺 like the whole team is super understanding and comforting but especially nat (bc we love mom nat around here!) anyways thanks so much ily bestie!

Hey Bestie! thank you so much for being patient and for supporting my blog! I know this has been in my inbox for so long but still! here it is. Sending my love to you <3 i have just realised that there is not a lot of comfort in here oops.

warning: this does include details of death and blood so keep that in mind if you read this <3

It’s Okay

You had always gotten nervous in public spaces 

Or at night when you couldn’t sleep

Or when you didn’t know all of the details of a plan 

Or when it was 3am and you were too scared to sleep

The point is you always seemed to have 100 thoughts plaguing your mind 

“Y/n sweetie I’m gonna need you to concentrate on my voice okay?” Wanda's voice waded through the watery noise in your head. You knew she was right and that logically there was no reason to be so upset, but you just couldn’t help it. It had all started after the group had decided to not tell you about the meal they had planned at this fancy restaurant that Tony wanted to try and of course this had sent you into a spiral and you were now very very aware of every possible outcome. “Come on kid, you’re alright, breathe slowly” Tony tried, or was it Steve maybe it was Bruce. When you got like this, voices sounded the same and nothing felt real. You couldn’t breathe and that was your main worry.

The team had gotten used to it and always reassured you that it was okay 

They didn’t mind and would always be there

And no matter how much you appreciated all of the support there was 1 person the team always knew to call

Natasha

Crash, thud, bang. The noise coming from outside the room had woken you from the sleep you had allowed your brain to indulge in for once. Whenever you did this though your mind would be over run with the horrors of life and death. 

Peeling the covers off of you, you slowly crept from out of the bed. Where was the rest of the team? Had they woken up? You hadn’t heard anyone else get up but in your hazy state of mind shrugged it off as them just being deep sleepers. Something you would later regret telling yourself. 

As your hand pulled the handle of your room down to open it you heard another noise. Laughter? Hesitating you looked around in the hope of finding a clock but as your eyes frantically moved in an effort of finding one the floor seemed to start to sway beneath your feet. Soon the darkness engulfed you.

For the second time that night your body jolted forward and you gasped for air, the dryness of your mouth hitting you like a punch to the gut. When was the last time you had a drink? Where did the laughter go? Why had you passed out? So many questions and yet it felt like you were trapped in an endless game of hide and go run with a twist, you didn’t know who you were running from and how much time you had before they found you. 

Before you could even begin to think logically again the loud twang of metal hitting the ground sounded from down the hall. Slowly stepping outside the room you had woken up in which you had realised wasn’t your own, you guessed you had been in Steve’s bedroom which was odd given that he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was out helping Bucky with his nightmares? 

Bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor of the tower you tried to navigate your way through the dark to wherever the team had gone. The sounds of machines whirring stopped you, the lights must be getting turned on. Sure enough, bright white light blinded you, spreading through the faster Pietro could run. Blinking away the pain and blind spots from your eyes you were met with big red letters painted on the floor.

 ‘The crowds will come and flood your world, yet you will remain empty and incomplete’ the red bleeding off into a winding path that would probably lead to whoever had wormed their way here. Even with this in mind the words seemed to swim through your mind; you had always felt empty even when your life was full but you never told anyone but Natasha and she would never tell anyone your secrets she had promised. She wasn’t like that. Repeating that phrase like a prayer that would save you, you followed the red wet paint. 

Red can signify many things: energy, passion, lust and the one you should have paid more attention to. Danger. 

Instead of being faced with some psycho who broke in all you were greeted with was the horrifying image of your family dead on the floor. Blood trickled out of anything it could noses, ears, mouths. Eyes open with a stare of pure terror. A scream tore its way though your throat. The familiar metallic substance flooding your senses. 

Knees crashing to the ground as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because when you have nothing, when all you have is gone, what can you do but cry yourself a river and let your soul float away on the memories of simpler times? 

You knew your knees would bruise from the mpact but you didn’t care. You didn’t deserve to go through this painlessly after what they had gone through in their last moments. 

A creak made itself heard above the sound of your cries, head slowly lifting to see what it was, damaging your throat further when you saw the lifeless bodies of the avengers sitting up and staring back at you. Salty tears streaming even quicker as you tried to scramble away. Slipping on nothing. Suddenly the lights shut off again. You didn’t move. You didn’t scream. You didn’t even breathe. 

“Wake up y/n”. What?

It had been Nat that woke you up from the nightmare

Even though the whole team had been aware of what was happening all they could do was watch in horror as your body writhed in fear

After making your way to Nat’s room where you knew you would spend the night

Unable to brave it alone

You finally found it in yourself to talk

“You were all dead” you croaked from the cocoon of blankets the redhead had wrapped you in. sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around your body, you found yourself desperate for the comfort of her hugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just know that I will never ever abandon you. How could I leave my little sunflower to fend for themselves? You give me a reason to be better and I will never leave you. Nor will anyone on this team for that matter” she spoke softly, as if cooing a terrified animal out of their hiding spot. You had and always will have a family as long as you have Natasha. She would make sure of it. And soon you drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the sound of her sweet hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away”.

[wygolvillage]

unlike what seems like a lot of people (since i see this in fanfiction sort of frequently when i have the whim to read) i dont think theres one set “belmont estate” where the family lived, i actually think their place of residence and mode of living changed over the generations

pre-sonia: before they were vampire hunters they were just regular hunters and sort of well-off. in a pretty secluded mountain village, sonia’s grandfather owned a mansion (iirc this was mentioned in the Manual Backstory(tm)) filled with the family’s hunting trophies mounted on the walls. large, cozy, and cabin-esque. this mansion was destroyed in a monster raid on the village shortly before sonia lead her charge on the castle.

trevor era: sonia briefly settled in a smaller village following her victory, to raise her son (not alucard’s in my hcs though bc i dont like it. they were just friends). during trevor’s childhood, he and his mother were required to leave the country since sonia had Abilities (vaguely described as “being able to detect supernatural monsters” so i always hc she had prophetic visions) that those in power saw as threatening and unnatural. knowing what happened to alucards mother, sonia feared being accused as a witch, so she acquiesced. their living conditions while in exile were less consistent but not outright terrible. following the exile sonia secluded herself and her son a lot more, preferring to stay away from prying eyes.

christopher era: since trevor took after his mothers sensibilities, the belmont family stuck with small, woodsy cabins a large-ish distance from nearby settlements, even when invited back into the country. though trevor earned back some respect for the belmont family, they were still feared by many. christopher followed suit, living in a little house in the mountains with his wife and son, soleiyu, though he wasnt as isolated as trevor was later in life.

simon era, juste era, richter era (pre-sotn): simon was at first mostly the same as his predecessors, but following his near-death in cv2 he gained a new outlook on life and feared to waste it in solemn solitude. he moved to one of the villages that had welcomed him during his quest, aljiba, as his victories had gained more respect for the bloodline he felt more assured doing so compared to his ancestors and their rightful caution. through the next few generations, the belmonts stayed there, this being the village where juste, maxim and lydie grew up and where richter and annette lived, too. despite their legendary status, they lead frugal lives, even though they probably could have afforded a mansion. i also think that juste and richter both spent large portions of their childhood being sent to a slightly further away church-based... academy? thing? to ensure their skills were ship shape.

richter era (post-sotn): after losing his connection to the whip in the aftermath of his possession, he entrusted it to alucard to find a new heir, who was in the area while maria was trying to domesticate him (lol)- alucard would eventually pass it on to the morrises, of course, after having crafted the alucard spear to compliment its power. richter, on the other hand... his role was over. he and annette (srry im not an annette divorce truther i think its more interesting if they stay together and the various ways that dracula tried to tempt them to evil and how annette could resist it but richter couldnt and- thats an essay for another day) just kind of left, with richter unable to face the land he had grown up in steeped in legend and legacy. they traveled aimlessly until they happened upon an idyllic valley between two difficult to cross mountain ranges, nearby the sea, and lived there while richter found the peace his turmoiled heart so needed. this is the place that would eventually become wygol, where ooe took place

ooe era: i think following richter moving to that valley, so did other belmont descendants, seeking comfortable obscurity and a hiding place after their bloodline had fallen to ruin. the once scattered family tree mostly ended up reuniting around this area and populating the area, creating a lot of the human structures like the monastery and the church in oblivion ridge (the description for that area also said its the abandoned site of harvest festivals, and i hc that thats why). around this time, nikolai established wygol as an official town. it was unknown to him that this was where the belmonts were in hiding, but barlowe also chose this place as the site for eccesia’s main headquarters due to the distance from others so he could secretly perform his experiments without being questioned by locals, since the existing belmont population was pretty scarce even in the area’s golden years as that hiding place. as dracula grew closer to resurrection, though, monsters began flooding the area, a sign of his return, and most of the belmonts left once more, leaving wygol (and ecclesia) as one of the last places still actively inhabited in the remote valley. the belmonts that left mostly just incorporated themselves into “normal society”, abandoning their old names and family history.

and it mostly stays the same from there since thats where the legacy kind of ends... though i think julius was born in america and wygol would be abandoned by modern day (its the lost village from dawn)

[betelgeuse-1988]

pale blue eyes: obi-wan/reader

hey so i fell in love with ewan mcgregor recently and proceeded to watch all of the prequels and started the clone wars. how dangerous! probably more obi-wan content in the near future. sorry if this isn't canon compliant...i don't know enough about star wars and i'm so sorry!! give me tips if you have any

obi-wan is also probably totally ooc and i’ve definitely disregarded the jedi code (bc screw the code!) but...i don’t care...obi-wan is too beautiful for that lmao. if anyone can handle a little temptation from the darkside and still be a good jedi, it’s obi

tags: smut, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, grief/mourning (mention of death), master/padawan dynamic (sorta), possessive sex/behavior, rough sex, marking (hickies), smoking, implied age difference, porn with feelings (and maybe plot), dirty talk

There was something oh so terrifying about being a Padawan. Of course, it was all you had ever known, but realizing that there would be a day when no one would be there to hold your hand as you traversed the daily experiences of being a Jedi was overwhelmingly terrifying. But, what was even more terrifying was the thought alone of losing your Master.

Actually losing her before you’d finished your training could only be described as unquantifiable.

Obi-Wan broke the news to you soon after reporting to the council after the mission on some outer-rim planet went wrong and led to several Jedi being killed. He spared you the details as you broke down in front of him, apologizing immediately for letting your emotions get the best of you. You tried your best to keep everything in, especially in front of one of the best Jedi Masters. Obi-Wan looked down the hallway before slowly walking you back into your quarters. He sat you down on your small bed, taking a seat next to you.

“I know how you feel right now, as I too lost my Master. But, you must remember your Master has returned to the Force. She has become something better and will always be with you. It will be difficult, but as time passes the intensity of your emotions will fade.”

You looked up into his blue eyes, the truth behind them reinforcing what you sensed in the Force. His statements were genuine, facts that had been seen in countless other Jedi who had experienced what you did; but, his eyes (and the Force) held a sadness that seemed as if it was too big and too fragile to even consider touching. Having heard some pieces of what had happened to Master Kenobi and his Padawan, it seemed as if he never had enough time to grieve. He never had time to consider what loss meant and how to deal with it. The words he spoke seemed to be monotonous, as if they were a mantra he thought to himself often. An attempt to rid himself of emotions that council members told him that he would be drawn to the darkside because of them.

“And yet,” you said, pausing to control your breathing, a few tears escaping your eyes now and then. “Those emotions will never go away, huh?”

Obi-Wan broke your gaze, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m...I’m sorry, I’m not helping, am I?” He let out a sad chuckle before looking back at you. “It’s just...I know too well how you feel. And yet, I cannot bring myself to tell you that you must rid yourself of these emotions because they will lead you astray. I so wish that one person would have allowed me to feel, just for one moment.”

You take his hand into yours, unable to bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “You’ve helped me more than you know, Master Kenobi. And I only hope that you are able to take your own advice, too.”

“I will try, young one.”

After this moment, you found yourself drawn to Obi-Wan in the late hours of the night. Master Windu took over the last few weeks of your training before your trials. When you were not training or sleeping and Obi-Wan was not training his Padawan, you were together. This often caused you both to spend late nights in one of your quarters (most often his, as they were bigger). At first there was nothing sexual or even romantic about these meetings. They allowed you both to explore your grief and help each other control emotions most Jedi would consider distracting or unwanted. It was nice to feel safe in your emotions.

At least, until your emotions became romantic feelings for Obi-Wan.

This realization hit you like a podracer a few weeks after you became a Jedi. You had been given a mission to protect a queen from an outer-rim planet visiting Naboo for a week. The distance alone is not what caused you to realize these feelings. Obi-Wan and his Padawan had been sent on small missions in the past few weeks, causing you to go days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, but training for your trials could fill the void he left. But, now, being away and nearly bored out of your mind in your down time was horrible. You felt a constant sense of longing and desire that you could only trace back to Master Kenobi. Your thoughts would drift back to late nights you spent with the sweet man who could comfort you with only a smile. Thoughts of running your hands through his auburn hair as you begged him to keep growing it out, especially with the beard. Watching his eyes flutter closed as you gave him a massage through his undershirt. He lets out little groans and moans, telling you to push harder in certain spots. Holding his large, calloused hand in yours as you cuddle close together on his bed. It wasn’t until the final day of your assignment that these thoughts turned sexual.

You laid in bed, too excited over going back to Coruscant and having a few days off. A half-dreaming vision formed in your mind of Obi-Wan laying in his bed. The image became clearer and you realized that his sleeping pants were pushed down slightly, his hand grasping his cock tightly. A moan slipped past his lips, the words he choked out indecipherable as he thrusted harshly into his fist. You attempt to will away this vision but it’s stuck--almost engraved--in your mind, drifting in and out like a boat rocking back and forth on waves. His thrusts seemed desperate, as if he had been attempting to reach his climax long before you created this vision. He moans again, this time it is clearer and louder than before: your name. It slips past his lips smoothly as he finally tenses slightly, forcing his hips upwards. Cum shot out of his cock as his thrusts stuttered to a stop and his hand took over. Some particularly thick shots hit his lower stomach, covering the hair above his cock. The rest flooded slowly over the tip and down onto his hand. He groaned all through his climax, panting once he had finished completely. Your mind often drifted back to these images as you fell in and out of sleep throughout the night.

Getting back to Coruscant was a welcome return home. After your report to the council, you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin waiting for you outside of the chambers. You found it difficult, at first, to hold Obi-Wan’s gaze as he greeted you.

“Hello, Master Kenobi. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you got back. If you’d like, Anakin and I would like to take you to Dex’s,” he says simply, a wide smile on his face. Anakin gave you a toothy grin, excited to gorge himself on greasy diner food.”How was your mission, young one?”

You smiled widely, slightly forgetting about the waking-dream that had been plaguing your mind. “Sounds like a great idea. I can tell you all about my mission over dinner, then, I suppose?” Obi-Wan nodded in response, a smile (albeit smaller) on his face mirroring yours and Anakin’s.

After dinner at Dex’s, Obi-Wan dismissed Anakin to his chambers (though, Obi would confide in you that he knew for a fact his was talking to his fellow Padawans late into the night, to which you would chastise him for doing the same thing with you) and invited you to his own to meditate. The walk there was quiet, yet comfortable. But, as you reached his quarters, you saw the bed that was ingrained into your visions from the night before. The panic and embarrassment ran through you, piling heavy in your stomach and causing you to stop in your tracks at his doorway. Obi-Wan took off his boots quickly and made his way to the large window at the opposite side of the room.

“You can come all the way in, y’know?” Obi-Wan said once he realized you had not followed, his tone light and playful. He was teasing you, like he always did, always a flirt. And yet, tonight, it made you nervous. You took slow steps towards him after taking your boots off by the door, meeting him at the window he liked to meditate at. “Are you okay? No witty comeback for your favorite Jedi?” He moved to cup your face but you turned away, noticing it was the hand he had so elegantly wrapped around his cock in your vision.

You looked back at him and shook your head, your eyes becoming watery out of embarrassment and fear. You knew you needed to talk to him before this got any worse. “C-can I talk to you about something?” He nodded, his face becoming serious, and sat down on the plush cushions he used to begin meditating. He patted on one next to him and you sat after taking off your cloak. You two sat almost too close, knees touching. You could almost smell him and could almost feel the calming warmth radiating off of him. “I...During my missions I was plagued by visions, Master Kenobi.”

He frowned slightly at what you said, worried about the potential dangers of visions Jedi see. “You do not need to use my title in my quarters, young one,” he said, calmly, so as not to scare you or make you feel he was reprimanding you. “But you can tell me anything. What were in these visions, young one?”

You sighed, attempting to muster the strength in admitting what you saw. Obi-Wan could sense your struggle and reached out to touch your knee gently. You placed your hand over his and squeezed gently, closing your eyes to center yourself. The minute you opened your mouth, the word-vomit flowed fast. “They were of you. They began as nice and comforting. Domestic moments. Like holding your hand or cuddling. I could see myself doing that with any friend. But...last night, it was sexual. I, uhm, watched you...pleasure yourself. Y-you moaned my name. Maker, I feel like I’ve used you, I am so sorry, Master Kenobi.”

“This happened last night?” he asked, blushing slightly under your curious gaze. You nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. “Then I don’t think you were making these visions up, darling.”

Your jaw dropped, with Obi-Wan only smirking back at you. “W-what do you mean?”

“I think you saw me, somehow. I saw some of those visions you described earlier in the week, too. Perhaps we are connected, young one.” He looked at you processing what he just said and smiled. “I like you, a lot. I admire your work as a Jedi and I am so proud to see how much you have grown since I first talked to you that night your master died.” He moved the hand that was resting in his lap to cup your cheek. “I believe I have fallen for you. I am sorry that you had to see me in such an inappropriate state, however. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me.”

“No! I mean, I do. I want to be with you. I never imagined that you would ever want to be with someone like me.” You smiled brightly, giddy about this change in your relationship with Obi-Wan. “And, if I may say, you looked quite beautiful last night. I am honored that you thought of me just as I have thought of you. Although, you have a much different imagination than I do.” The man in front of you blushed and chuckled brightly, almost proud of what he had done.

The hand on your knee tentatively moved further up your thigh. “Perhaps I can spark your imagination?”

You shifted to be on your knees, placing your hands on his thighs. You leaned close to him, almost brushing your lips against his. You were able to feel the tickle of his beard on your face as you whispered out, “Perhaps I can fulfill yours?” You pressed your lips against his as he shoves his hands through your hair, tugging on it slightly. Even as he moaned, you tasted the strawberry milkshake you shared with him at Dex’s. But, as you kissed him deeper, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, you tasted tabac, causing your mind to wander. You never thought of Obi-Wan indulging in the toxic substance, but you can’t bring yourself to be surprised. Images of Obi-Wan shirtless, just-fucked and sweaty, his hair a mess, flooded your mind. A cigarra hung from his mouth, barely hanging on to it as he took puffs from it.

A nasty habit Obi’s voice rings through your mind, almost embarrassed, I can’t seem to kick it, young one. I hope you aren’t angry.

You pulled away and cupped his face. Not wanting to ruin the tender moment of vulnerability, you kissed him lightly and projected your thoughts to him, I could not be mad at you. I find it shamefully attractive, but if you are ready to quit, I know you can.

He smiled into the kiss as you pulled away to begin stripping. “Allow me to help you,” he said, moving to push your robes off your shoulders as you took off the belt around your waist. You shrugged the robes off of you completely and threw them to the side, followed by your undershirt. Obi-Wan moved to help you take your pants off, but you stopped him.

“Allow me to help you, Master Kenobi?” he blushed and leaned back, copying your actions by starting with his belt. You help to shrug off his outer robes followed by his undershirt. You admire his chest, speckled with freckles. You pushed him down lightly, his back hitting his carpeted floor lightly. “You are truly beautiful, Master.” You kissed his chest lightly, kneeling at his side and helping him to shove his pants and undergarments off. Even though you had seen his member the night before, it was different in person and being able to see it uncovered by his hand. Semi-hard, all you could think was that it would look even more beautiful in the moonlight and neon lights streaming from the window. You flicked your hand, flipping the light switch by the door.

“I was going to ask if you liked what you saw, young one, but it seems I was wrong,” Obi-Wan hummed.

You smirked, taking his cock in your hands. “Oh, I do, but I am one for aesthetics and I would prefer to be fucked under the moonlight.” You jerk him off slightly, getting him hard. As your movements become a tad more difficult, you hold your hand up to the man’s mouth. “Spit, please.” He looked at you with a raised brow but spits. You rubbed it up and down his cock, making your movements much smoother. You squeezed lightly around his cock and he began to thrust lightly under your touch. You moved to lean down and use your mouth on his cock, but Obi-Wan stopped you.

“Let me get you ready so I can fuck you under the moonlight, just like you want, my young one.”

He moved you down to lay on the floor, pushing one of his cushions underneath your head. After helping you out of your remaining clothes, he shoved the other pillow under your hips, angling them upwards. He then kissed down your chest, as if attempting to kiss away the moonlight with how fervently he pressed his lips to your skin. Yet, as you pushed his hair back to get a clear view of his serene face, you thought he may be trying to pin down the moonlight to your skin. The way his gaze locked with yours showed how intensely he cared about this moment. His kisses acted as an attempt to encapsulate you in the light, an attempt to preserve this moment forever. You were not just another nightly escapade (not that either of you had many of those, both unknowingly too caught up in being smitten by the other). Rather, in this moment, Obi-Wan was declaring he was going to make love to you with each and every kiss pressed to your skin. The final kiss he pressed to your skin was your clit. Once this was finished, he began fingering you, stretching you with two fingers immediately and suckling on your clit. You gasped and moaned under his touch, fingers diving into his hair.

I want to make you mine, young one. After we began talking I wished I had fought with the council more to train you instead for the remainder of your time as a Padawan. Perhaps we could have been here sooner.

“Master Kenobi,” you moaned aloud. Not being able to form words verbally, you responded with the Force. How I began to wish the same. I suppose, then, I was always yours?

He pulled off of you, but added a third finger to his thrusts, smiling up at you brightly. “Yes. And I suppose I was always yours, then, too?”

“Yes,” you moaned out, high pitched, almost squeaking. You hummed and tried again, regardless of if Obi heard you the first time, “Yes, Master, you’re mine.” Obi-Wan’s smile somehow grew, but he quickly went back to working on you with his mouth. However, this time, he leaned more on his arm that he’s using to finger you. That way, his other hand was free to jerk himself off. You only noticed when he moaned against your clit lightly. “Master Kenobi, are you--”

Yes, he sent you, almost strained as if he was speaking, I think I could cum just by eating you out, I wouldn’t even need to touch myself.

“I wouldn’t want that,” you said, pushing his head lightly, “so why don’t you fuck me instead?”

He pulled his head up and smiled, “Anything for you, my darling.” He stood up, pulling you to join him, and guided you toward the bed, stopping by his drawers to grab a condom. Laying down on the bed, you watched him roll the condom over his cock and climb onto the bed with you. He kneeled between your legs, pulling up your leg to rest it on his hip. He used his other hand to grip your hip and pulled you towards him. You gasped, both at the sudden movement and his member pushing into your pussy slowly. “Such a good girl, taking me so perfectly. You can take me all, right, my young one?” You nodded your head fiercely, unable to form a coherent thought as he continued to thrust in and out of you, each thrust going deeper than the last.

Once he settled into you completely, your hands fisted his bedsheets roughly. “So full, you fill me up so nice, Master Kenobi.” You shifted your hips against him, attempting to get him to thrust into you. His grip on your hip dissipated as he moved to push down on them. You moved your hand over his, pushing down on it lightly while also gripping his hand.

“Is there something you need from your Master, young Jedi?” Your grip on his hand tightened as you nodded. “What do you need? You can use your words.” You blushed as you attempted to quantify what you wanted him to do. You attempted to shift your hips as the position became uncomfortable from being held for so long without moving. “Please, princess. I want to give you what you want, but I will not move until you tell me.”

“I want you...I…” you trailed off, becoming embarrassed for what you were trying to ask. You threw your head to the side and thought to him, I want you to mark me. I don’t care if it hurts. I want to know, as long as the bruises last, that I am yours. I want to hold on to this moment.

“Is that all, young one?” You nodded in response, trying not to embarrass yourself more than you felt you had. “There is nothing to be embarrassed over, sweet girl. I want to please you, and the only way I can do that is if I know what you want. Never be embarrassed when asking for what you want.”

You smiled as his hand moved back to your hip, his grip stronger than before. Timidly, you add on, “Can you also move, Obi-Wan? I...I need it.” He silently responded by squeezing your hip and thrusting into you. He quickly picked up speed, however, thrusting into you desperately. Obi-Wan shifts, dropping the leg he held at his hip to be able to lean over you. Moaning at the new angle, you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close. Your fingers delved into his hair, tugging at it as he thrust into you just right. Obi-Wan moaned at that, flicking his hips faster in response.

“Where do you want me to mark you, hm? Maybe a place above your robes so all the other Jedi Masters will see and know you’re mine?” You tensed slightly under him, even as your pussy clenched. “No, darling? I didn’t mean to worry you. I will make sure no one can see.” Obi-Was pressed light kisses to your collarbone, as he had before, but quickly began to suck on your collarbone and lined it with love bites.

Too overwhelmed with the pleasure, you think to Obi-Wan, Perhaps another time, you can make them more visible. Let everyone know I am yours and yours alone.

He only hummed in response as he busied himself with bruising your skin. You shoved a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit in small circles.

Am I not good enough for you, young one?

You stopped your movements and began to stammer out an excuse.

I am only teasing, darling. I want you to cum on my cock. And, you’re making it much easier for me to achieve that goal.

You both continued like this, attempting to reach your climaxes by pulling on Obi’s hair, him suckling on your skin to leave marks, and you circling your clit. Eventually, your legs tensed and you lifted your hips up towards him. You gasped, the inner walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock. “Obi-Wan, I’m cumming,” you exclaimed, moaning even more as you flung your head back against the pillows.

“Let go, love. Cum for me, show me you’re mine.”

Your hips stuttered against his, legs tensing and shaking on either side of the Jedi Master. He pulled up and off of you, shifting back onto his knees. He thrust through your orgasm, attempting to reach his own. He moved his hands again to grip your hips tightly, bringing you against him roughly. Obi-Wan moaned as he thrust into you as fast as he could, wanting to cum so badly. “Cum for me, Master. I can sense how desperate you are, n’ I wanna know I made you cum. You came inside your young Jedi’s cunt, all for her. Only for her.” His hips began to stutter irregularly against you as he came, moaning your name just as he did the night before. Obi-Wan eventually stalled against you, collapsing slightly. “After that show, you can put your full weight on me. You deserve it, and I don’t want you to pull out just yet,” You said, rubbing his head gently..

“I always had a feeling you’d be insatiable,” Obi-Wan chuckled. He leaned his full weight on top of you. It was surprisingly comforting, especially after his rough grip and bruising kisses. He snuggled into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses against it, as your hands settled at his waist. “I can only hope to completely satiate you, one day, I suppose.”

“You did perfectly fine, Obi-Wan. For now.” He finally pulled off of you, forcing you to come to his refresher with him to clean up. When you finally laid back down in his bed, both of you naked and comfortable in each other’s arms, you were too tired to do anything more than hum in content. Just as you were trailing off to sleep, a warm thought entered your brain.

I love you, young one. Never forget that.

You responded quickly, though you assumed the sleepiness that would have been present in your voice was also present in your thoughts.

I love you, too, Obi.

[bewitchedbodyandsol]

If I Were Not Myself

Description: Reader is a mandalorian from Din’s covert who was manipulated into taking off her helmet. HEAVILY based on Pierre and Natasha from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812. Takes place before the child (bc age reasons and character development has not happened). Trying to stay as close to the approximate ages in Great Comet/War and Peace, putting Din at 27 while reader is 19. 

 Notes: Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 makes me absolutely mad. The only spoken lines in the musical and it makes my heart shatter. Okay, I don’t think Din would be as courteous towards a dar’manda as I write him but also like, this is a Din/Pierre hybrid, so. And yes I know that based on these ages Toro Calican would have barely been born, but um, yeah <3. IT’S MY FIC AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.  Also, this is my first time writing and posting fan fiction so um, yeah <3

Word Count: 2.9K

Rating: G

Tags/warnings: Thoughts of death (in an almost philosophical way). fem!reader Dar’manda!reader, war and peace au? No use of y/n, slightest hint of Toro Callican x reader and Paz x Reader (like they’re mentioned), age gap

If I were not myself,

But the brightest,

Handsomest,

Best man on earth,

And if I were free,

I would get down on my knees,

This minute,

And ask you for your hand.

And for your love.

The mandalorians-the mandalorian and the dar’manda, stood in front of each other. The air still. When he had initially seen her he ran towards her, he stopped less than a foot away and reached a hand out to her, but instead of taking his outstretched hand like he had expected, she slowly moved past him. She put an awkward amount of distance between the two. The gap between them too large for how friendly they normally were, while anything closer seemed too overwhelming. Din knew he had to stay far enough away to keep himself from completely engulfing the girl in an embrace, fists curling at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her again. 

---- 

Din had known the young woman her entire life, for she was born shortly after he had been taken in as a foundling. While all families in the covert were friendly with one another, theirs had been especially close. And they had been especially fond of each other. The age difference caused them to participate in different activities and talk with different social groups but did not stop them from interacting completely. In fact, the two mandalorians had grown to be close friends. The young girl confided in Din about her newest crush on the covert while he doted on her for it and she would laugh at the gruff noises he made while being teased by peers, watching him try to act tough while knowing he would huff and puff to her about it later. 

He had watched her grow, from a nervous young girl who stood in the middle of a room filled with people simply to make them listen to her sing, to a young woman who knew how to carry herself and gain the attention of her peers from sheer presence. At the same time, the girl watched Din grow from a flustered teenage boy to a closed off young man who became more and more stoic with each passing visit. 

As the years went on the two became distant, caught up in the paths life had put them on. Din started running with Ran’s crew, his visits to the covert became few and far between, while she had stayed and chose to act as a nurse for the foundlings. Their friendship seemingly evaporated, dissolved to nothing but pleasantries. The young woman noticed the growing weight on her dear friend’s shoulders, but was unknowing of the whirlwind he found himself caught in. His growing reputation, worrisome discoveries he made about himself, and the insatiable twi’lek girl he had gotten tangled with. 

During his last visit home, Din had introduced the young woman to his friend Paz Vizsla. The two had known of each other for quite some time but had never formally been introduced, and quickly after he acquainted them Din felt a shift in the air, as if he was intruding on something he was not meant to see. He had not expected the pair to become so infatuated with one another. Aware of Paz’s past, the hardships he faced, losing not only a wife but a child at a young age, and the battles he fought; and the young woman’s naivete, having rarely left the covert herself and her general lack of life experience. So when he heard that they planned to wed, he had been surprised to say the least. 

That had only been one year ago. A year, and yet so much had changed. Din truly had not planned on a return home for quite some time. While he had been on the planet for a while, as the crew had a job that stationed them there, he had not planned on visiting the covert. As he had no obligations to do so, prior to the holo he had received from the girl's aunt in which she explained the situation to him and pleaded for him to return. She explained how the girl had broken off her engagement to Paz and made plans to run away with Toro Calican, whom she had only known for a few days, instead. Din had heard of Calican before and had even had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting him once, he found the suave young man obnoxious and to be nothing but trouble. Oh but what angered him the most about the young man, was seeing his own worst qualities reflected right back at him. His fears and flaws were flaunted by the young mercenary. When Din heard it was Calican the girl had become involved with, he didn’t even have time to think before it had slipped past his lips that the young man himself was married, and unlike Paz his wife was still alive. The girl’s aunt had begged him to return to scare Calican off the planet and to attempt to speak some sense into the girl. But when Din had returned it had been too late, she had revealed her face to an already married man, and unknowingly to her, his friends as well. Leaving her dar’manda. 

--- 

It felt almost inappropriate to stand in front of her in this state. With her lack of armor and helmet, she might as well have been naked from a cultural standpoint. She stood in the middle of the room in her thermals. Her beskar had been stripped from her, no doubt to be given to someone more deserving, a foundling most likely. Her back towards him, Din noticed her arms hung still next to her, obviously too exhausted to even subconsciously twiddle the edges of her shirt like she used to do when she was a younger, more nervous girl. When she turned around and looked at him, it felt like she could see into his soul. The helmet prevented her from looking him in the eyes, but having worn a helmet herself and interacting with so many others who did the same, she easily knew where his were hidden behind the mask. And when he looked into her eyes, Din could see the weight of the galaxy crashing down on her. 

“Din Djarin.” She tested out his name. And something in him shattered. No one had referred to him by name in so long, simply referring to him as ‘mando’, but Din Djarin was not the name she had used the last time he saw her. No, she had simply called him Din. The sudden change in formality made tense, as he took a second to respond. “Din” He took a breath and corrected her. It wasn’t until the girl’s face shot down did he realize he had started leaning forward, his weight shifted to the balls of his feet, left hand flexing at his side. 

He hadn’t seen her face in six years. No one had. Like most in the covert the young girl had sworn the creed promptly at the age of 13. After swearing the creed she had grown into herself, the young nervous girl Din had become friends with was replaced by a confident young woman. A skilled fighter and diplomat, yet as charming and giddy as ever. He could only imagine how she had grown ever more captivating as time went on. Din had never thought it to be a shame if a beautiful face was hidden behind a wall of beskar, his religion more important than simple vanity, and yet. As he saw her face on full display, he understood. Understood how someone who had become so enamored by the girl could do such a selfish thing, ask her to take off her helmet. 

“Vizsla was, Vizsla is your friend.” She corrected herself. Her ex-fiancé had fought in a far off battle for so long she had developed the bad habit of assuming him dead. Once again, the girl’s sudden formality was not lost on Din, referring to her ex fiancé as Vizsla rather than her usual endearing Paz. “He once told me that I should turn to you.” 

He had always reproached dar’mandas, finding them to be less than. Thought they had already shown themselves to be unworthy of the mandalorian title and armor if they could so easily take it off. That it took a truly weak man to break from The Way, from a people that loved fiercely and unconditionally. He wanted so badly to despise her. To give her the same scowl and acid laced words he might anyone else. But there was something about the way the young woman held her head. As if, even though she no longer had her helmet, she still did not want her face to be shown, and at that any chance of reproach towards her had died. Instead it was replaced by a feeling of pity. He had wanted to believe he felt nothing but pity for her, but he knew that wasn’t right. There was something else, something he was unable to place. 

“He’s returned. When you see him… Can you please tell him to, please tell him to forgive me.” She moved as if she meant to wring her hands, but when her fingertips found skin instead of leather gloves, they quickly shot back down to her sides. 

“Yeah, I’ll-I’ll tell him.” Din’s throat tightens as he recalls his conversation with Paz. How his friend returned from battle only to hear of his fiancé having an affair, removing her helmet in front of people who were not her riduur or ade. Recalling Paz’s posture, his voice almost malicious yet so pained when he said he could not forgive the girl of her actions. How the image of Paz, a man Din looked up to, had been shattered with a few simple words. “But-” 

“I know everything’s over, that chance of anything is gone.” Her head shot up, as if she had read his mind, anticipated his words. “But still, I’m haunted by what I’ve done, what I’ve done to him. Tell him please, to forgive me. For everything.” 

“I’ll tell him to forgive you. I’ll tell him everything.” Din nodded, as he thought of his next words carefully. “I want to know one thing. Did you really love him? Did you love that bad man” His voice sounded hoarser than usual. 

“Don’t call him bad.” She spat out. “But I, I don’t know. I really don’t.” Though the speed of her response told Din her real answer. That in some said way, yes, she really had loved Toro Calican. The man who had pushed her farther than anyone else had, pushed the boundary most important to anyone who shared their creed. Pushed her to do something she had never previously thought about. So uncaring of consequences. And if she had not loved him, she at least still held strong feelings for him. For the man who had manipulated her.

The young woman turned away from Din and began to cry. And he could hear the dam of emotions she held back break in the sob she let out. He could do nothing but watch as she began to crumple in on herself. The same feeling of pity from earlier returned, but it was now accompanied by a tenderness he had become unfamiliar with and that same something he was still unable to place. Din felt the tears pool at his jaw before he was even able to comprehend that he had started to cry. Thankful for his helmet as it prevented anyone from seeing the tears that rolled down his cheek. 

“Hey, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, ner vod.” The familiarity slipped out of his mouth, meant to comfort them both. He slowly made his way towards her, reached his hand out the same as he had done earlier. “But. I’m still, your friend. And if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to open your heart to. Not now, but, when your mind is clear. Think of me.” 

Din grew confused.

He had no idea where any of this was coming from. Especially after her had become so closed off over the past few years. He had felt more in the past few minutes here with her, warm and tender feelings that he had not realized he so dearly missed, than he possibly had in years. And there it was, that feeling he had been unable to place, unable to give a name, coming to the surface. Love. He had always carried affection towards her, in one way or another, but this was different. Love, something he had started to wonder if he was incapable of. 

“Don’t talk to me like that.” She snapped. “I don’t, I don’t deserve it.” Came out softer, sadder, and she practically scurried away from the man. Like she truly believed it. 

“Stop! Stop. You have the rest of your life-” The first stop a command, the second a plea. The girl stopped, her back still faced him. 

“The rest of my life? My life is over.” The girl reached the doorway she had entered through earlier, a tight grip on the wall. 

“Over.” He repeated. Looking at the girl, he saw a reflection of himself. His fears and flaws hung heavy around the girl. The same horrible thoughts that had plagued his mind not so long ago. 

The knowledge that one was capable of hurting people doing bad things, the thought that death might be more accepting and caring fate. The fear that life had ended before it even began. But unlike when he had seen those same traits in Toro Calican, who wore them with pride, he saw the same level of fear in the young woman that he had felt. 

And suddenly, everything stopped. 

“If I were not myself.” 

The young woman froze at his words. Din had not even registered that he was speaking until he had finished. 

“But the brightest, handsomest

Best man in the galaxy” 

Din had done bad things. Din had done bad things and enjoyed doing them. He had dangerous thoughts, dangerous intentions, and a dangerous way of life. He knew he was still not the man he needed to be. So much to improve upon before even thinking of settling down with someone, let alone the young woman in front of him. Though she was not perfect either, not the woman he knew she was capable of becoming, but he still thought she was deserving of perfection. 

“And If I were free-” His throat threatened to close. 

The Xi’an of it all was, Din was not in the position to be offering his love to someone else. And while they were not the ideal couple, he was still tied to her. He had his suspicions that the twi’lek girl might have been seeing other men along with him, but it did not stop him from remaining faithful to the girl. Along with the weight of his relationship on his heart, was the beskar lock he kept tight on it. His creed, the most important thing in his life. What he held himself to above all else. She was dar’manda, while he was not. A fact he could not simply ignore. Any hopes of a relationship between the two had been destroyed when she revealed herself. But he could not stop himself from loving her, from wishing he could do this one thing for her. 

“I would get down on my knees this minute 

And ask you for your hand” His voice strained. It could truly be that simple, they could be married in the matter of seconds. Vows exchanged, tied to each other for the rest of their lives. It was something he had never dreamed of, but as he stood in front of the young woman now. There was nothing he wanted more. 

“And for your love” 

The young woman turned around.

And reality comes crashing down. 

She makes her way over to him faster than Din thought safe for someone in her state. Her breaths jagged as she tries to control her tears. Tenderness replacing the earlier weight in her eyes. 

His breath hitches when her hand touches the cheek of his helmet. But he lets her, trusting her single hand to not make any bold moves, knowing the girl would not dare to lift the helmet off his head, to damn him to the same fate she had damned herself. Din’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes closing behind his helmet as he leans into her hand. A tear rolls down his cheek. The young woman simply looks at the man in front of her. And she gives him the softest smile he has ever seen. 

“Oh Din,” she whispers. ‘Thank you’, she means to continue, but the words are caught in her throat, leaving her to simply mouth them instead. She lets her hand fall from his face and leaves the room, smiling. 

Din stands and watches her leave, trying to hold back any oncoming tears, and lets out a shaky breath. Realizing his job here is done, he turns around to leave. Bumping into the doorway on his way out, he takes a deep steady breath, and makes his way to the Razor Crest.

[batcassed]

late night doodle bc I came up with an au idea

AU where Bruce adopts Barbara, Steph, Cass and Harper instead of the batboys

Damian never exists; Bruce doesn’t sleep with Talia

Barbara is adopted by Jim Gordon after his brother and his sister in law, Barbara’s parents, die (as per canon.) When she’s six he is killed by the Joker on live tv, forcing Barbara to watch. Bruce is too late to save Gordon and puts the blame for his death on himself, and tries to atone by giving Barbara a home. Raising a daughter keeps him busy so he doesn’t visit Haley’s circus when it visits Gotham. Dick’s parents fall to the floor, and instead of Bruce, the Court of Owls have their arms open to him.

Steph’s father is cluemaster but he’s put in Arkham early in her childhood. Stephanie’s mother is unable to overcome her addiction to pharmaceuticals (unlike in canon) and this ends in her death. 6 year old Stephanie runs away from her social worker and ends up finding the batmobile in an alley. She hides under the car and her social worker passes by, but when Batman arrives she jumps out to avoid getting run over. He tries to take her back to foster care but she throws a rock at him and runs. Bruce decides to adopt her instead once he finds out her father is cluemaster, and once she tries Alfred’s waffles she agrees to ‘let him’ adopt her

Harper Row is taken away from her alcoholic father when she’s 4 and is the only kid to end up with Bruce in a normal way. He’s officially a foster parent and she’s placed with him. She tells Bruce that she had a brother, Cullen, who she hadn’t seen since being taken away from her father but Bruce is unable to figure out where he’d gone. He’s never been registered in the foster care database and none of the workers that picked up Harper recalled there being another child.

When the Justice League encounters Lady Shiva, she fights them and defeats Batman, but the combined forces of Wonder Woman and Superman force her capture and she’s questioned under the lasso. She tells them about her origin and that a man named David Cain had her biological daughter and was training her to be an assassin. Batman realizes that the daughter in question is still only 6, and adds her and David to his search for Cullen. He finds her being trained by David to be a ruthless killer and rescues her. He realizes that she’s mute and can’t grow up in a regular foster system so he takes her home with him.

Babs is batgirl before she’s paralyzed at 17, and when Steph is older she doesn’t feel right taking on the batgirl name, so she becomes Robin. Steph and Bruce have a falling out when Bruce calls her reckless in the field and benches her so she distances herself from him and becomes Spoiler. She meets a kid named Tim in university who was emancipated from his parents when he was 16 and discovers that since he was a kid, he’s tried to follow batman and robin’s footsteps by fighting crime at night in a red domino and black clothes. Steph reveals that she was the Robin that Tim used to watch at night and takes him on as her partner, eventually training him to be a third Robin, one who was never trained by Batman: Red Robin.

At the same time, Harper spends years trying to find her brother, Cullen, taking on the codename bluebird in the meantime. Bruce takes her on as his partner, not his sidekick, which drives a wedge between her and Steph.

Cass had decided to live a normal life after having the choice taken away from her when she was young, but an attack on her school causes her to fight off a bunch of the rogue gallery to the point of near-death. She holds them off long enough for her school to evacuate and run. After she survives this, Barbara reaches out to her and tells her that if she ever wants it, the mantle of batgirl is there for her. Cass refuses it at first but takes it when she turns 18, deciding to train again, but this time to defend Gotham, and not kill. She becomes batgirl at 19

When Bruce ‘dies’ for half a year, Cass gives the mantle of Batgirl to Steph and goes to Hong Kong to become Black Bat. Harper moves in with Steph and befriends Tim, who believes that Bruce is alive. Nobody takes the mantle of Batman after Bruce’s ‘death.’

After he is rescued by Tim and Steph, Bruce returns to Gotham. Cass returns to be Black Bat and Steph goes back to being Spoiler, though he and Steph finally reconcile.

They find out that Cullen was taken by the Court of Owls and turned into a Talon, and when they try to rescue him, they discover that a second Talon had taken a liking to him and refused to let them rescue him

So of course they take both Talons home. Bruce discovers that the second Talon is Dick Grayson and with Martian Manhunter’s help, they help them learn how to be human again

Dick takes Cullen to live by themselves in a quiet area of Gotham, and Bruce leaves them be, knowing that they deserve to lead normal lives without continuing to be entangled in the batfamily. Only Harper visits.

At the same time, a new crime lord pops up, claiming to go by the red hood. Bruce fears another Joker situation and finds Red Hood to interrogate him and finds out that his name is Jason Todd. Jason, forced to work as a goon for two-face to earn money to support his mother, was a hostage of the Joker and beaten almost to death before Batman saved him. He wants to drive Batman to finally break his code and kill so that he’ll kill the Joker. After a fight between them that almost ends in Jason dying, Batman backs off and doesn’t turn him into the police. Bruce leaves him there, acknowledging that Crime Alley is his territory.

Anyway I’ll probably write this into a fic ✨

[ppersonna]

physical - pjm | m

lights out and follow the noise. baby keep on dancing like you ain't got a choice. so come on, let's get physical - physical, dua lipa

↳ summary- you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

↳ rating- explicit

↳ word count- 6.2k

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, fluff, comedy, fitness instructor!jimin, honestly this is pwp but with like 20% plot

↳ warnings- oral sex (m/f receiving) penetrative sex, sex in public, exhibitionism, spitting, slightly dom!jimin, jimin is v mouthy during sex, jimin is also a brat, 

↳ a/n- hiiiii we back at it again.  this fic brings me to 1 fic per member so i can finally feel good about repeats looloooolll also, this was very fun to write because i got to incorporate my love for exercise classes and my bias uwu.  also jimin 100% would be the worst instructor to take a class from bc i would NEVER focus EVER AGAIN.  pls feel free to message, comment, etc etc bc i love friendship.  enjoy!!!!!

The sound of your spin shoes clipping into the pedals is like music to your ears. 

You feel your shoulders relax as you roll them, warming and stretching the muscles of your arms and back. EDM beats play lightly over the impressive sound system, encouraging the riders to cycle to warm up for 45 minutes of adrenaline and heart-pumping cardio. 

Spin class is one of your happy places. Group fitness classes give you a rush that solo workouts can’t compare to. You love the camaraderie, the support and the built in friendships. Plus, you love having someone at the front of the room tell you exactly what to do. So what, you’re a little subservient? 

You smile at the ladies clipping into the bikes next to you, not knowing who they are but finding that everyone is friendly and wants the best for themselves and the group.  It’s why you love these types of classes.  Strangers become teammates. 

You hadn’t bothered to check who was instructing today, having clicked on the class time that fit your schedule best. You hoped it was your favorite Hoseok, but had learned that all the instructors were just as good Hoseok was just so vibrant, he made you work harder. 

The heat in your legs builds upon a low simmer, muscles warming for an intense class.  A melodic voice sounds over the speakers, your instructor coming in and securing their place at the front of the room. 

You take a moment to stop gaping. In front of you is quite possibly the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen in your short life. 

He’s incredibly toned, wearing a tight adidas tank and second skin-like leggings. He clips into the bike on the podium and smiles at the class. 

You’re sure you’re salivating. You curse yourself for picking the bike front and center today, now acutely aware how likely you were to drool over the instructor the entire time.  

He notices your stare and winks before he adjusts his mic and speaks again. 

“Good morning, everyone!  I’ll be your instructor today. My name is Jimin and I’m happy to be here,” his voice is light and sounds like honey. It slithers down your skin and oozes into you.  “Let’s get started at a quick pace of 90 rpm’s and warm up those legs!”

His dirty blonde hair glistens in the spotlight, thighs flex and ripple in his leggings.  You’re frozen in your seat and it takes you four thumping heart beats to realize the class has started.  Fuck. He will be the death of you. Nothing makes you lose focus in class. 

You push your legs and begin, and he turns his gaze back on to you. It’s as if he lights a match and throws it on you, the way your body reacts under his stare.  You wonder what it feels like to touch his chest, his toned arms. You bite your lip and pant, breathlessness unrelated to the exercise. 

Class is torture. Everything Jimin says is a double entendre to your ears and you find your core aching and wet only 15 minutes in. Jimin looks perfect, up in third position on the bike, standing and hips pushed back. You can see his pert little ass in the mirror, and you want to cry. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of him. 

“All right, let’s tap it back in 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Jimin pushes his hips to tap the seat with his ass, before standing back up as he pedals in time with the music. He looks delicious, sweat on his forehead.  He pushes his hair out of his eyes and you nearly pass out at the sly smile curved on his face. 

You attempt to do the workout but feel yourself faltering, missing the beat often. It frustrates you. Normally, you are at the top of the leaderboard, soaring above the others with your effort. Today you land near the bottom. All because of fucking Jimin and his perfect fucking body. 

The arms circuit comes next and you are grateful for the reprieve from heavy resistance on your legs and a chance to sit and catch your breath.  You grab the weight bar and hold it in your palms, ready to do bicep curls at the count of your instructor. 

Jimin unclips from his bike and grabs his bar, before walking the length of the front of the room.  He begins with the bicep curls and you choke. His arms ripple with the effort and his hands look so strong and veiny; your mind immediately fills with thoughts of his strong hands fingering you to completion.  He counts out the numbers and winks at you again as you falter in your push and pull. You shut your eyes, avoiding looking at him, and focus on the curl of your arms. 

It’s infuriating. You take pride in your fitness and find yourself most satisfied after an intense workout.  This class has proven to be intense in a whole different manner, but you’re upset at the lost opportunity to push yourself and focus. 

As your eyes flutter open again, Jimin moves to put the bar away and clip back into his bike. Only 15 minutes left. You can do this. 

You definitely did not do it. The last fifteen minutes were pure torture. Jimin kept his monologue of encouragement going, but his voice was tinged with fatigue and he panted hard into the mic. Sometimes, during particularly tough resistance, he would add little grunts and “uh!”s to his countdowns.  You felt your thighs tremble with each one, gasping at the fantasy of his grunts as he fucked into you. 

Blessedly, the class ended and Jimin was leading the group through relaxing stretches to calm you down. It didn’t calm you in the least.  You watch as he folds himself in half over the bike to stretch his hamstrings and you’re mesmerized when he stands on his bike to stretch his back out. You want to lick every inch of him, tease your tongue down every hard line of muscle you could see until it landed directly on his coc-

“Thank you, everyone! You did incredible!” Jimin cooes over the mic as he stands next to the bike. He bows slightly in reverence to the group, and the class is dismissed. 

You’re not sure if you want to book it out of the room first or linger. You’re sure if he tries to talk to you, you’ll implode. Maybe you can leave in a crowd, while he’s talking to one of the older ladies sure to hit on him. 

You pack up your water bottle and towel, patting the sweat on your face as you try to sneak past in a crowd of elderly women. 

“Hey!” Jimin calls and you freeze. You look up to find the object of your frustrations smiling at you. Fuck. He was talking to you.

“Great job today,” he grins. 

Little shit, you grumble internally. He knows perfectly well that you did dreadfully, coming in 12th place out of 15. A woman three times your age got first place, and it burned you more than you cared to admit. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, awkwardly patting your face dry.  You’re positive you look terrible. Red faced from exertion and arousal, sweating like a pig. 

“You come here often, princess?” He asks as he walks closer to you. You find your breath catch in your throat and you’re unable to reply.  He chuckles. 

“Cat got your tongue?”  His smirk is legendary and you want to slap or kiss it right off. 

“I’m-,” you croak out, then clear your throat and steel yourself. “I come every other day. Sometimes more.” 

Jimin can’t take his eyes off of you. He smirks again. “You should take another class of mine, doll.” 

You blush, and you hope the already flushed color of your cheeks hides it. 

“You could use the practice. Soon, you’ll get the hang of it.” He gives you a wink and leaves, leaving you stewing in anger and frustration at his words. 

How dare he?! He assumed you were a novice! Your pride and ego burned. You were a regular! You always came in the top 3 of the class! It’s his fucking fault you couldn’t focus on class! 

You grab your things from the locker you stored it in, change your shoes, and stomp out of the spin studio with only one thought on your mind. 

The asshole, Park Jimin. 

You avoided spin like the plague. You rationally knew he didn’t teach every single class there, but you couldn’t face it, face the place where he hurt your pride so quickly and turned your insides into molten lava. 

You dragged your best friend Jungkook with you to yoga, a quick and heated vinyasa class. Jungkook was more of a weight lifting guy, but you had recently talked him into trying yoga, explaining the benefits of meditation and the stretching of his muscles and sinew would help improve his form. He caved and quickly found he liked it. 

You spread your mat down on the warm wooden floor and let out a sigh. You had been looking forward to this class all week, and you were finally here.  You ensured you were taking the class from your favorite instructor, Taehyung, when you booked you and Jungkook’s spot. 

You smile at Jungkook as he settles himself into his mat, and you both begin stretching and chatting lightly before class begins. 

The door opens just as you get into child’s pose, face toward the mat in between your thighs and arms stretched high above your head on the floor. 

A silky voice, most decidedly not Taehyung’s, rolls over your body. 

“Welcome everyone. I’m your substitute teacher today. My name is Park Jimin.”

Your head snaps up and you stifle a groan at the sight you’re welcomed with.  

Jimin stands on the mat at the front of the class, directly in front of you, wearing nothing but long, lululemon tights that cling to his skin. Again, you chose to be front and fucking center. You can see the way his legs form in his leggings. His chest is bare, and you can’t stop staring at the defined lines of his abs. You want to cry. 

He’s invaded your favorite spots twice now. 

He recognizes you, startled for a moment, but quickly covers it with a wink in your direction. You let your head fall to the mat with a thunk. 

The class is hot, literally. It’s 102 degrees Fahrenheit and you’re dripping with sweat. You move with precision through each sun salutation, ashtanga, and tree pose. The moves flow into one another, your favorite thing about vinyasa, and you pointedly avoid even looking at the instructor.  You’re grateful you know all the moves by heart and can position yourself into them by memory. 

You’re proud that you only falter a few times, heart stuttering every time Jimin walks by you to note your pose and call out the next position. You’ve never wanted to simultaneously fight and fuck someone so bad in your life. 

It’s the final, relaxing poses of the class and you sigh with relief as you maneuver into sleeping swan. You slide out of down dog and slip your right knee between your hands, lean a bit to the right, and press your hips forward towards the ground.  You can feel the delicious stretch in your hips and your eyes flutter at the release of tension.  You lay down over your knee, allowing your arms to lay flat above your knee and press your hips down as far as you can. 

It’s quiet, all you can hear is your breath. You see Jimin out of the corner of your eye assisting others push deeper into the pose, pressing his hands where they need the help.  You gulp.  Fuck. 

You turn your head back towards the mat and focus only on your breathing and the stretch in your body.   Jimin indicates to switch legs, and you do so effortlessly, sliding your left knee to the center and putting your right knee back. 

It feels good to stretch, especially on your weaker left side. You inhale deeply and let it out as you try to push your hip forward more.  

Suddenly, warm hands are on your lower back, right above the cleft of your ass. You bite your lip tight, knowing it’s Jimin, guiding you deeper.  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your breath catches as he presses down, humming his approval as your hips move with his hands and you gasp at the feel of the stretch. It feels even better going further than you could on your own. He laughs quietly through his nostrils, as he smooths his warm hands up under your shirt to rest on the skin of your back. 

You feel as if you will explode. Just as your body reacts to his touch and caress, it’s gone and he’s moving to Jungkook to guide the weightlifter through his own pose.  

The class ends and Jungkook smiles at you as you both lift from your ‘namaste’ bow. 

“That was great!” He grins as he rolls up his mat. “Jimin’s a great teacher! We should take more of his classes.” 

You silently cry, not sure your weak heart and pussy can handle any more of Jimin and his stupidly hot body and his ridiculous smile. 

“Yeah, Kook,” you half-heartedly agree, not interested in divulging your sordid secret crush on the asshole who embarrassed you. 

You’re packed up and exiting the room when the same familiar voice chimes. 

“Hey, princess!”  

You and Jungkook both turn around to see Jimin smiling at the head of the room. Jungkook looks at you questioningly, wondering why the instructor is calling you princess. 

“You did good today,” Jimin notes. “You should come again sometime. We can make sure you’re really getting stretched out.” 

Your cheeks flame impossibly red and you splutter. Jimin winks at you. This fucking asshole. 

“Your hips seem a little tight. We can work on that.”  He knows exactly what he’s fucking doing and you want to kick him in the dick just as much as you want to kneel in front of him to suck it. 

“Sure, Jimin,” you grumble out before you drag Jungkook from the heated room. 

Jungkook is all grins. “What was THAT?” He asks as you exit the yoga studio and head towards the subway. “He was basically asking to fuck you right there! How do you know him?!”

You pout at your best friend. “He doesn’t want to fuck! He just enjoys getting me worked up,” you sigh. “He was my spin instructor the other day, and he got me so fucking heated I nearly came in last place! In a class full of grandmas!” 

Jungkook snickers as you both tap your metro cards and lean against the wall to wait for the next train. 

“Girl, he was offering to help you stretch you out. He wants you.” 

As much as it thrilled you, you couldn’t comprehend it. Jimin was ethereal. He surely had women throwing themselves at him. He simply enjoyed the teasing. 

“Whatever, Kook. He told me I need practice at cycling. ME! I’m the goddamn spin queen!”  The crowd around you watches you and you pale at the embarrassment. You lower your voice. “He just wants to see me fired up, for no fucking reason.”

“Okay, delusional,” he sighs, patting your sweaty head. “Believe what you want.” 

You hmph in reply and watch as a train approaches to take you home. 

You most definitely will believe what you want. 

Jimin is fucking everywhere.  If he’s not instructing, he’s taking the same fucking classes as you. Barre, Pilates, yin yoga, CrossFit. He’s always there and always taunting you with his perfect fucking body and teasing words and your fantasies of him drilling you into a mattress until you can’t talk. 

You avoid group classes altogether. You can’t face him. Your fitness is suffering because of it. 

You suck it up and go to the gym, the regular ass gym with no classes, and you’re determined to run a few miles on the treadmill and maybe get a good 20 minute lift in. It’s been too long since you’ve had the thrill of a good workout, the satisfying ache in your muscles. The gym will suffice.  It’s missing the level of companionship that group classes provide, but it’s better than nothing.

You pop your earphones into your ears and click on some music, not caring what it was as long as it was quick, and press begin on the treadmill. 

Running is easy. The strangers around you melt away and it’s just you and the treadmill. You love the way your heart is beating, sweat forming at your forehead.  Finally. A good fucking workout. 

All thoughts sweep away as you run, and your only thought process is on the push down of your feet on the treadmill belt and the pull up of your legs to lengthen your stride.  The runner’s high was something you lived for, and you realize you should incorporate more running into your routine. 

You don’t even pause for water, so wrapped up in the run's high that you don’t feel thirsty. 

Your watch vibrates against your wrist, notifying you that the 60 minutes you set to run is up, and you slow your pace to a complete stop.  You feel like you’re high. Your heart is racing and your body feels like it’s vibrating. This is what you had been missing in the weeks of unsatisfying classes. The flood of endorphins after a perfect workout.  

You suck down some water, before removing your earbuds from your ears. The roar of the gym is loud, music and TVs and chatter from the gymgoers. 

“You’ve got great running form, you know.” A familiar sultry voice is suddenly next to you, and your arms prickle. 

You turn to gaze at the intruder and feel your body coil tight. 

Park fucking Jimin. And his fucking ridiculously sexy smirk and perfect hair and godly body. 

“Are you following me?!” You accuse. How the fuck is he everywhere you go!?

Jimin laughs out loud and leans against the treadmill next to you. “It’s not my fault you’re taking all my classes! One might think you’re following me.”  

You scowl and push yourself off the treadmill. 

“Hey, wait, don’t go!” he calls and grabs your arm.  

You turn to glare at him. “You going to tell me I need more practice at running too?” your tone is harsh but you don’t care. 

Jimin bites his lip and smiles at you. “Damn, is that why you hate me?” He asks. 

“You told me I needed more practice at cycling!  I'm great at cycling!  Better than most!”

You’re aware that others are watching, but you can’t find it in you to care. You cross your arms underneath you, pressed up against your sports bra you deemed appropriate as a shirt. 

“You looked like a beginner! I’m sorry!” He apologizes. “Hoseok told me later that you’re, like, one of the best!  I have to reach out to the new riders! It’s mandatory!”  

You suck your teeth, still unimpressed. 

“When I saw you in yoga doing everything from memory, I knew you weren’t just some novice! I’m sorry for assuming, okay?” He sighs. “What had you so fucked up in spin, anyway?” 

Your heart thuds to a skidding brake. There’s no way you can tell him the reason you sucked so bad in class was because you could only focus on how his cock would feel stuffed up inside you. 

“I,” you falter. For the second time, Jimin has you stumbling over your words. “I didn’t feel well,” you lie. 

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

Your cheeks flush and you stay silent. 

“You got distracted by me, didn’t you?” He smirks. You gape at the size of his ego. You wonder if his cock compares in size and then kick yourself for still thinking about his fucking dick. 

“I’ll take the silence as a yes,” he winks as he throws an arm around your shoulder. 

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that?” You snark as you push his delicious, toned, silky arm off you. 

“And you’re a selfish, competitive bitch.”

The grin on his face is shit-eating, and you find your blood boiling. 

“You take that back!” You demand. 

“Tell me I distracted you, that my presence fucked up the great ___, spin queen extraordinaire, and I will.” 

All you see is red.  Red, fiery anger. No.  There was no fucking way you would let him win, revel in your shame in the middle of a crowded gym.   You drag Jimin by his Nike tank top that shows almost 100% of his body, to the nearest ‘family shower’, pulling him inside and locking the heavy door behind you. 

You push him against the door and press a finger to his chest. 

“Fine! You did. You distracted me throughout fucking class,” you hiss. “All I could think about was sucking you off and seeing your lips on my pussy and riding your dick until we both can’t talk. Okay?! Happy now?!” You’re fuming, chest heaving with intensity. 

Jimin's grin lights up ten times brighter. 

“I thought the same things during class too,” he admits coolly. 

Jimin has you speechless for the nth time. “What?” You breathe. 

“When I saw you on the bike, I couldn’t stop staring at your tits and your lips. You looked so good. And then in yoga, that tight little ass was begging for me to spank it. While you were running, I was wondering what you’d look like cumming around my cock.” 

He shrugs, the words rolling off his tongue as if he isn’t admitting he wants to defile you as much as you do him. 

“Are you serious!!?” You squeak, heart beat thundering in your ears. 

“100%,” he smirks and rests the back of his head against the door. 

It’s silent for a beat as you stare each other down.

Fuck it.

Next thing you know, you’re launching yourself forward to press your lips to his in a searing hot kiss. 

Jimin kisses back fervently, tongue swirling into your mouth as his hands wrap around your body.  He finds purchase on your ass and squeezes it through the tight leggings. 

You gasp and shudder at his hands roaming your backside. Jimin pulls his lips away and smirks. God, that fucking smirk. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” 

“Yeah?” You ask as you move your hands to the front of his chest. He nods. “You know what I’ve wanted to do for a while?”  

He grins and tilts his head. “What, princess?” 

You drop to your knees, tugging his adidas tights down with you. His cock springs free, and you gape at the enormity of it. 

“Shit,” he hisses suddenly as cool air hits him. “That was fucking hot.”

You’re encouraged by him and you wink up at him, before you’re wrapping your hand around his length to give it an introductory pump. 

Jimin rewards you with a moan, unabashed in his volume. He doesn’t care who the fuck hears you two, this is the hottest thing he’s done in his life. 

“So thick,” you murmur. “I wondered how big it was.” 

Jimin can’t reply, because your lips are latching onto his dick with fervor and you lick and suckle at his length.  Jimin’s eyes nearly roll back into his head at the suction of your mouth.  

“Oh, my god,” he gasps. “Y-You’re ridiculously good at that.” 

You preen under his praise and continue, allowing his length to the back of your throat.  You let him gag you, saliva and tears both gathering at the sensation and Jimin stifles a cry.  Your hand comes to his cock as you pull away and take a harsh breath, wiping away the tears from your gag reflex.  You stroke him quickly, loving the way his weighty cock feels in your hands.  As you pump him, the tip of your tongue teases at the slit of his head and Jimin swears loudly. 

“Fuck!  Christ, gonna make me cum,” he’s whiny. It’s adorable. He purses his pretty puffy lips as he moans for more, more of you. “Such a good girl, shit, ahhhhh,” he gasps as you suck him into your mouth again. 

It doesn’t take long, the sensation of your hot mouth and hand jerking him sends him flying and he’s cumming hot stripes down your throat.  You feel you’re on cloud nine as you swallow his seed, sucking at the tip until he hisses from overstimulation. 

As you pull away, you open your mouth and extend your tongue to show him you dutifully swallowed his cum, and he groans. 

“You’re a fucking filthy little thing, aren’t you?” 

You nod in reply, and Jimin grips your jaw in his hand, forcing your mouth to stay open.  

You jerk in his grasp as he spits into your mouth; the saliva hitting your tongue. You’ve never been more turned on in your life.  He releases you, and you swallow again. 

“Kinky bitch,” Jimin cooes. “All for me.” 

He pulls you up to stand in front of him, pressing his lips to yours again for another burning kiss. 

It’s too short for your liking, as Jimin pulls away and manhandles you to sit on the sink. You’re obedient, smiling prettily. Fuck, you can’t believe it’s happening. You just sucked Jimin off, the same Jimin you’ve ogled and anguished over for weeks now. 

“Let me see these tits,” he asserts as he tugs up the sports bra from your body.  You comply, raising your arms up to allow him to pull it off. 

He throws the bra to the floor and cups your breasts. 

“Fuck,” he breathes as his thumbs rub across your nipples.  You shiver from the cold air and the heat of his thumbs. “I jerked off thinking about these tits after spin.”

He lowers himself to lick at a nipple and you’re whining for more. 

“Thought about pushing them together and fucking them like a pussy.”  He bites down on your nub, causing you to squeal and jump. He soothes the flesh with a suck from his lips and languid circling of his tongue. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He smirks, eyes boring into yours as he roves your nipple with his delicious tongue  “My kinky little whore wants her yoga instructor to fuck her pretty tits.”

You’re thriving, his words making your cunt ache. It’s dripping wet. You’re sure it’s leaking through the fabric of your leggings by now. Jimin being just as rough and filthy as your fantasies has you reeling. 

“Yes,” you whine. “I want you to fuck your cock in my tits.” 

Jimin hums around your nipple before switching to the other, ravaging it with the same attention as its twin received. 

“God, you’re a fucking whore,” he whispers as he bites at your nipple hard enough to make you jerk in his grasp.  “I love it.” 

Your hips are moving against his body, desperate for friction where you need it most.  It’s not lost on Jimin and he pulls off your tits with a pop. He marvels at his work. Your nipples are suckled fresh and red, perking and pebbling in the cold air. 

“Mmm, does princess want some attention here?” He asks as he slides a hand down to grip your aching quim.  

You gasp in response, shuddering at the feel of his palm against your core. 

“P-please! Pretty please!” You beg. 

He kisses at your breasts again, before he tugs your shoes and socks off, and pulls the leggings down your smooth legs and throws them to join the matching bra on the floor. He’s pleased when he notes you aren’t wearing panties.

You don’t care how you look, wanton and desperate.  You spread your thighs wide, feet resting on the edge of the sink. Jimin gazes at you like you’re fine art, the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. 

“Look at you,” he adores. “Spread out for me like a slut.  And you’re dripping wet too, mmm.” He rubs a finger up and down your silky thigh. 

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He grips your chin with one hand while the other continues rubbing at your inner thigh. “A good little bitch for me.”

You nod and gasp as his fingers skim impossibly close to your cunt. 

“Do you deserve it, princess? After you were so mean to me earlier?”  

You pout and shiver. “I’m sorry!” You gasp as his finger hovered over your pussy. “I’m s-sorry! I was j-just upset! I didn’t meaaaaaaan it!” His finger dips and taps at your clit, feather light, and you’re crying at the feeling. 

Jimin shushes you, finger still impossibly light on your clit. “Hush, baby. I forgive you. You sucked my cock so well, made me cum so hard.”

The finger increases pressure slightly and you’re aching, trembling for more. 

“Good little sluts get rewarded, hm? I think you’ve earned yours, princess.” 

You’re not given an opportunity to reply as Jimin harshly thrusts two fingers into your cunt and fucks you furiously.  Your moan is impossibly loud, loud enough you’re sure the rest of the gym can hear you but all you can focus on is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin and his thick fucking fingers thrusting into you. 

He lowers down and licks at your clit, flicking it up and down. He watches as your body trembles, wails echoing off the tile walls. 

“Mmm, my pretty little princess, so fucking wet for me.” He emphasizes with a kiss to your clit, before he sucks it into his lips. The tugging makes stars shine in your vision, nearly blacking out from how good it feels. 

Jimin can feel that you are close, and as much as he wants to get you off with his fingers, he wants you to cum on his cock more. He pulls away from you, and you’re whining at the loss. 

“Hush, princess,” he sighs. “Be good, no whining.”

You quiet immediately but still feel a throb in your core. He delivers a harsh slap to your cunt, surprising you and making you yelp. Jimin grins and kisses your lips.

“Stand up and turn around and face the mirror, doll.”

You move to comply, hop off the counter to turn and press your back against Jimin. You can see yourself in the gym mirror now. You look fucked out completely. Your tits are blooming red where he suckled at your nipples, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust. 

Jimin’s lips tickle at your ear and he whispers, “This is what I imagined during spin class. Seeing you so fucked out and wet for me.   These pretty tits marked by me,” he cups one, and pinches at the nipple. “My sweet little princess.” 

His hand moves up to your throat, giving it a solid squeeze, and you shut your eyes. Euphoria.  Pure bliss. 

“That’s right, baby,” he kisses the shell of your ear. “All mine.  Such a slut for me.” 

You’re nodding, eyes still closed, as he removes his hand and pressed your head down towards the sink.  You wiggle your ass and rub against his length, giggling at the feel. 

“I want you to watch yourself get fucked by me. You’re gonna watch me ruin this tiny little cunt,” he grunts. “You’re going to watch what I fantasized about in every fucking class I saw you in.” 

You realize you’re moaning loudly, the sound spilling out of your lips subconsciously as the head of his dick rubs your pussy lips.  He hisses at the wetness, loving the way it slicks up his cock with ease. 

“Eyes open, my love,” he orders gently when he notices you’ve closed them.  They snap open and your gaze falls on him in the mirror.  He looks so fucking good, so hot and feral. His muscles glisten in the light, a sheen of sweat from his workout and from the heat of your bodies pressing together. 

He winks at you, the same one he gave you that fucking blasted day at spin, and then pushes into your tight heat in one go. 

“Oh, fuck, Jimin!” you’re gasping as your walls stretch to accommodate him. 

He grits his teeth for a moment, savoring the feel of your silken walls. “Told you we needed to stretch you out, need to get you nice and loose.”

You shiver as he remains still inside of you, but he’s quickly pulling out of you to impale you again.  The sound of flesh slapping on flesh fills the room and you can hear the wetness of your cunt around him. 

“Shit,” he moans. “You’re so fucking tight, unghhhh. Gonna ruin this little pussy, baby.  Gonna make you never want another cock in you except mine.” 

You believe him. You’re sure after this you’ll never even notice another man.  Jimin has you wrapped around his finger, he has since the first day you met at spin. 

“All yours,” you squeak through the thrusts, watching your tits jiggle. He notices your stare and roughly grabs at one, squeezing it until you reward him with a loud groan and the tightening of your cunt. 

“That’s right.  You’re mine. Ahhhh, wanna make you my girl, baby. Gonna fuck this little hole every night. You’d like that, huh?”  You nod in reply, and he slaps your ass with his free hand. “Use your filthy words, bitch.” 

You gasp at the sharp sting and splitter a response. “P-please! I want you! Only want you inside me.”  You’re half coherent to the words you’re speaking, his dick is literally fucking you stupid. 

He grins in reply, swatting your ass again. The pain sends a tingle straight to your clit and you squeeze his cock inside you, causing him to groan out loud. 

“God, you’re so perfect.  So fucking perfect for me,” he babbles. “Gonna fuck you in the spin studio.  And at yoga.  Gonna fuck you in barre while everyone watches.” 

The high you’re feeling is unparalleled.  You’re sure you’ve felt nothing quite like this, never been fucked so good in your lifetime. Jimin knows how to work you up, both emotionally and physically, and brings out the beast in you. 

You can feel your release building, already so close from his incessant fingering and tonguing of your clit. 

“J-Jimin!” You’re heaving his name, harsh pants signaling your oncoming climax. “S-so close!”

He becomes rabid, fucking into you at a pace you’re sure isn’t human. He angles his dick to hit right at your spongy wall, thrusting into your g-spot with ease, as if he knows your body inside and out. 

“Yeah, cum for me, whore. Cum on my cock.” 

It feels heady, feeling him thrust inside you and murmur such filth to you. He wants you and only you. The notion is as orgasmic as his cock itself.  The tightness in your core builds, builds, leaning on the precipice of euphoria. 

“Cum for me, baby, come on. Mark me as yours.” 

His possessive tone is the last thing you hear before the waves of orgasm pound over you like a typhoon. Your cunt clenches and flutters hard around his dick and he’s moaning your name. You feel how tight you are, his cock stilling inside you as he reaches his own high. 

“Oh, shit! Shit shit shit!” he gasps. “Gonna be full of my cum, baby! You’re mine!”  

Hot ropes of cum coat your core, and you’re relishing in the feeling. 

“My god,” Jimin sighs. He lets his softening cock remain inside you as he presses a kiss to your back. 

“Is it too early to say I love you?” He jokes.  Your heart flutters as you wiggle your ass.

“No, but take me to dinner first.”

He slaps at your red ass lightly, right where he spanked it before. His grin lights up the room. 

“With pleasure.”

“Hi, welcome to class, I’ll be your instructor today. My name is Jimin. Let’s get started.” 

You smile from your seat, front and center, and move your legs in time with the music. 

The instructor catches your eye and winks at you. 

Spin is even better now, if that’s possible. You spend your time in class with your deliciously sweaty boyfriend, who doesn’t go easy on you. He pushes you, makes you better and faster and stronger.  He rewards your first place spots by eating your pussy until you cry. 

Life is better.  You’ve found your person, the one who will do everything with you, for you. He loves you, completely and fully. You’ve never felt more cherished in your long years of living. 

Class ends before you know it, and you linger as the group meanders out to the lobby, leaving Jimin and you alone. 

“Hey, princess,” he calls to you as you rub the sweat from your face. 

You look up to see a sly smile on his face. 

“You should stay back and practice.  I think you need it,” he chides, teasingly. 

Your heart skips a beat as he closes the door, barring you from exiting the room full of bikes, and approaches you with a leer. 

“Oh, yeah?” You place a hand on your hip. 

“Yeah, and I think I know just the instructor who can help.” 

Jimin pounces on you with a kiss, and your giggles fill the room. 

Life is better now, and it will get even more so. Jimin glances back at the podium as you scurry to get your leggings off, his eyes resting on the velvet ring box. 

Yeah, it will definitely get better. 

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.