#im rusty pls let me live

[aastarions]

18+ (suggestive), drabble (577 words), reader wears panties

Zhongli who occasionally "charms" your boss down at the docks early in the morning while you're still sound asleep among his silk sheets – buttering him up with (real) promises to put him in touch with Hu Tao for future sponsorship opportunities, as well as praising his assortment of baked goods (often purchasing some in bulk) – all to finish his little quest by off-handedly mentioning that you're feeling a tad "under the weather".

Your boss is quick to reassure him that you can take the day off and pick up a shift another day to make up for it, none the wiser to the smug grin that curls at Zhongli's lips before he hastily parts ways to return to you.

On the other hand, you know exactly what sort of day awaits you when you feel your boyfriend shuffling underneath the many blankets, hands eagerly reaching for you as he drags you close to his warm embrace.

"Zhongli..." you warn, more like whine, through your half-awaken daze, "where were you?"

A rhetorical question, really. Both of you are well aware of his shenanigans, but he provides his usual answer nonetheless, "I was merely going for an early morning stroll, dear, but coincidentally I happened to saunter right past your boss-"

"-and blah, blah, blah, he gave me the day off...right?" You're wide awake now, eyes no longer bleary as you shoot him a pointed look.

But, surprising to absolutely no one, he's entirely unphased, "Precisely."

"You're unbelievable," you scoff, but find your resolve crumbling (as usual) as he lets his golden fingertips drag along your jaw, "you could just ask me to spend the day with you, or we could plan a day together when I'm already off from work."

Zhongli continues to make his argument, eyes half-lidded as he watches his thumb press at your bottom lip, "I once read in a novel that one of the many essences of mortal pleasures is spontaneity."

“One of many mortal pleasures?” You reiterate, allowing yourself to fall for his little game once and for all.

He lets out a soft hum in acknowledgement, shuffling the two of you until you’re pliantly beneath his larger frame. You appear ethereal before him; his button down that you adorn poorly attempting to cover your chest, your flimsy panties digging into the plush of your hips, the cor lapis necklace that he forged for you glimmering oh so beautifully against the morning sun's rays. Zhongli doesn’t think he could be more in love, that in all the years he has walked upon this soil he has never felt such a way for any single living being. 

But now is not the time for such strong declarations of his utter devotion to you, he chuckles to himself, swiftly falling back into this “little game” of his with practiced ease, “Yes, many, would you care to explore these other mortal pleasures? It would be my honor to demonstrate for you, dearest.”

You’re quick to nod your head, keeping another bout of laughter from Zhongli at bay as you lean up and smack your lips onto his. Sure, eventually you’re going to have to convince this man to learn how to properly plan days for the two of you to share together that don't involve his scheming, but it’s really difficult to complain when he goes through all that effort just to spend the morning with his head eagerly between your thighs…among other things.

[invsiblestringswrites]

Zan's sigh told him him was on the right track, but his sass told Rhys he needed to make his intentions a little clearer. Rhys dragged his palms down the man's stomach, then out over his hips and underneath his knees, parting his legs without ever nearing where Zan would want the touch the most. He wanted the first contact to come from his mouth. "You could go to sleep if you're too tired. I won't be offended," he offered, even as he laid his cheek on the man's thigh, dropping a kiss to Zan's cock that lingered, lips hovering as if considering offering more, but he didn't. Not yet. "Do you wanna call it a night, Zan?"

"Mhm.." Zander settled onto his back, one hand behind his head as he watched Rhys grab what he needed from the drawer. His other hand ran down his lover's side as he leaned over him, fingers brushing over warm skin as the urge to touch him was too strong to resist. "I am relaxed," he told him honestly, a fond smile on his face as Rhys began to massage out any knots he found in his muscles. His hands were like heaven, and soon Zander's eyelids grew heavy, a content sigh passing his lips. Forcing his gaze up to Rhys's he let out a quiet laugh. "Are you trying to put me to sleep? Because if you don't want to fuck me you could just say so. You don't have to be so sneaky about it," he teased.

[fandomfix13]

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex,  oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I��m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

 I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.         

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment. 

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.” 

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful. 

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.” 

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN  feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice. 

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening. 

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately. 

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh  of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone. 

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now? 

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!” 

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he  brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here. 

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs. 

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer. 

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty. 

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-” 

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it. 

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension. 

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge…right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door. 

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second. 

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more. 

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing. 

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me. 

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss. 

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again. 

“I’d hope not�� I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt. 

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and  his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time. 

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair. 

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening. 

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod. 

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again. 

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words” 

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me 

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone. 

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

[pumpkinsy0]

Pakistani Steve hcs 🇵🇰😚

OoOoOo never rlly hear about this one before but ill bite!!! as always pls do correct me if i say somethin wrong!!

•he loves seekh kebab, he like rarely has it tho, his dad doesnt cook it allat much, or at all rlly

•id say johnny and steve have a lil bit to bond over, and one of them is being south asian!! ppl usually gloss over that fact and kinda downplays how much that rlly connects them

•theres not a lot he remembers about his mom, but he does remember the henna she would have on her hands sometimes

•yknow what, y not, lets say he was born and raised in Islamabad but moved to the us

•considering he used to live in pakistan if im not wrong, usually ppl eat w their hands??? id say soda does it w him sometimes to test it out and that means a lot to steve, especially bc soda is like, seen as thee american pretty boy, steve feels like maybe he wont b seen as an outcast completely??? i hope u get what im saying here</33

•look, he DID know urdu, but theres rlly no other pakistani ppl around where he lives so hes kinda forgetting it??? he cant speak it that fluently anymore, hes gonna hesitate a bit, but he can understand u, hes just rusty

•politeness and hospitality r pretty important in pakistani culture as far as ik, so i can def see lil steve trying to b on his best behavior w the curtis parents and as he got more and more comfortable w em, thats when he started to let loose

•religion wise, i dont see him being religious, i dont rlly see any version of steve being religious honestly, but maybe he does do somethings from Islam tho

•let him wear his shalwar kameez, ik he got ts on, wore that thing like one time in front of the gang and didnt do it again, not bc the gang was mean, he just, idk didnt wanna wear it again in front of em at least

•his favorite memories from pakistan prolly came from the Basant festivals he rarely went to, he loved the kites he would see and he would join in sometimes, his kites werent the best but it was fun for him

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEW SONIC PRIME S2 TRAILER UNDER THE CUT!!!!!

AKAKKDKSKDKSKSODOSOSO IM LOSING MY FREAKING MIND GUYS AND SCREAMING TO AN EMPTY HOUSE BECAUSE OF THIS TRAILER!!!!!!!!!!!

OKAY!!! LET'S SEE WHAT WE'VE GOT!!!!!!!!!

Sonic sounding MUCH more emotional than usual, while asking, "How do we fix this?"

THE SHAPE OF THE ORIGINAL PARADOX PRISM?? JUST WAITING FOR THE OTHER SHARDS TO BE RESTORED TO IT? PLS TELL ME MY THEORY WAS RIGHT AND DOING SO WILL FIX IT 😱😱😱

WE'RE BACK IN THE GRIM? WHY??

Would you look at that?? Sonic and Shadow actually effectively communicating?? Didn't think I'd live to see the day!! (Jk, sort of. Since they still start out beating each other up, AGAIN 🤦‍♀️🤣)

TWO AMYS!!! Can't tell if Rusty Rose is really fighting alongside them, the clip was too quick to cut, but STILL!!!!

THE NEW YOKE CITY ROBOTS ARE IN THE BOSSCAGE MAZE NOW?????? AND ATTACKING THORN ROSE??? AND SONIC'S BACK THERE, TOO!!!!!

Sonic can touch the shards now without getting sucked into other dimensions with them?? What happened to change that??

THIS SWINGING HUG WITH SONIC AND NINE TORE MY HEART OUT!!!!!!!! NINE LOOKED SURPRISED BUT THE FACT THAT SONIC ACTUALLY INITIATED A HUG???? I CAN ONLY THINK OF ONE OTHER TIME THAT THAT'S HAPPENED 🥹🥹🥺

More fighting the bots in the Bosscage Maze! Btw, looks like the Jungle folks will finally see what a robot is 👀😂

IS THAT PIRATE KNUCKLES, DREAD, IN NEW YOKE I SEE???

OKAY I'M NOT ALLOWED TO ADD ANY MORE PICS TO THIS POST SO I'LL MAKE A PART 2 IN A MINUTE AND THEN EDIT THIS POST WITH A LINK TO IT!!!!!

Edit: here's pt 2!!

[kitten4sannie]

aly pls tell me cowboy sannie finds a way to have y/n without the loop 😭😭 phantom mems was so sweet n romantic but i just want san to be happy;; my heart is way too soft for angst (even tho there was only a lil bit) but when he gave his ring to y/n i might have sobbed!! he is literally so husband coded!! i want a cowboy sannie :(

–vamp anon

i actually had this little extra ending thing where modern san and y/n visit the old saloon together as like a little adventure and bc they felt drawn to it. also at the end the bottle falls in the time loop yk but since they’re ghosts the modern versions of them see the bottle falling on its own 👀 here’s the little snippet:

you’re both walking around the old, dusty saloon, wondering how lively it was in the past. “are we sure we haven’t visited this one before??” you asked, standing near a decaying wood chair, studying the various-sized rusty bottles that sat behind the bar. san stood near you, shaking his head, despite feeling the same thing. “no i don’t think so.” you rubbed your bare arms, shivering. “how is it freezing in here? it’s like 80 degrees outside…” and you’re both looking around and a large liquor bottle falls from the bar, scaring the both of you. “let’s just get out of here, okay?” you murmur, looking at san with frightened eyes. he nods, taking your hand, idly rubbing the ring he gave you. “come on, darling.”

so at least they’re together in the modern world 🥺 the ring part made me sob too ughhhhh and he initially gave it to her bc he was planning on just leaving before she woke up but he couldn’t bring himself to do it bc he loved her shdhdhdb i want a cowboy sannie too ;; im glad you enjoyed the story, vamp anonnie!!

[xplrvibes]

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Today we watch… The Shanley Hotel (*crowd applause*)

Josh!! and the other one (side note, seth gives me the heebie jeebies)

“That looks—“ aww so pretty “—horrifying” oh ok nvm

I love watching colby drive ☺️ boys driving = happiness

“This looks haunted” no it really does actually

fr haunted places and gift shops makes me giggle idk why its like ahh big scary haunted place… and a gift shop

“alright lets sign a weaver to get choked” im… so incredibly down. oh they mean ghosts choking them not… not snc cho… nvm

theyre in a bedroom talking about being choked and i am in the gutter scraping my mind out with a rusty shovel… we are 4 minutes into the video. heavenly father forgive me.

“you can feel it. when i walked in… i’m uncomfortable” just empath things 💅

scotty the medium fan girl i love—- hold up this mfer is using a oujia board as a thing to lean against when he writes 😳

not the miniature raggedy anne dolls 🤦🏻‍♀️

I realise im not commenting on actual content just little things but we’ll get there.

colbys nauseous… strap in folks its starting. “I feel the same as i did in the conjuring” my brother in christ pls… you gon make me anxious thru the screen. i havent seen this episode yet!

ok side bar but officially if colby says he feels nauseous/anxious about a place, it is 10000% going on my ‘this is haunted fo shiz’ list.

he walked thru a door and he’s fine now?? its the floral wallpaper 💯

fr whatever rooms he felt anxious and nauseous in, they gotta investigate there.

“alright, ghosts, im coming down” reminds me of shanes “hey demons its me, ya boy”

this is long. imma make a part 2 - aussie anon

Oh man, I quite enjoy the Shanley. That's another really good one that has a similar vibe to Mizpah in certain respects. ;)

Yea Seth, not a fan.

I have to say, I've been to a lot of haunted places in my life of drifting around the USA. A lot. Any one of them that I walk into that has either a gift shop, or a big binder behind the front desk with stories/photos of all their guests' ghost sightings over the years are always my favorites. I know they're tourist traps, but they're fun lol.

Scotty actually does lives on tiktok a lot. I've come across him a couple times and he's always spoke so highly of them; said they were very nice and he'd gladly do another video with them. I always thought that was sweet considering thay have a whole part in this video where they're like "uuuuuhhhh...." about him lol.

And yea, Colby and his psychic gut strikes again. And it's always just casual throwaway lines that everyone ignores. Ugh lol!!

[xxe123spiderfreakxx]

FOR THREE. LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

SHADOW AND ROUGE ARENT BESTIES ARE U FUCKIN KIDDIN ME (like he looked at her when she was frozen in time and he had like barely a reaction and my heart hurt UNGH)

that being said i do live rouge's voice and seeing her get to play in the space with all the characters and act like a pal that still does crime obvs but isnt always this sexy kitten but is still flirty and hyper femme! <333

and i love rusty rose and thorn so much ;-; i think black rose has yet to super interest me but that would make sense that it's hard to keep up the anty for every iteration of the main group.

That being said, I wish we had an evil/deeply gray Rouge or Big iteration like with Nine, Rusty and Dread (tho Dread is kind of wasted potential /:). I liked that Prim was more about her survival at first and turned her back on Thorn and Sonic, but obvs time constraints.

Again I'm mainly cranky that a lot of the screen time this season was a bombardment of the Eggman family like I'm sorry...those are characters that work in short burts pls let the furries get more time I'm begging.

The stuff happening between Sonic vs. the alternates of everyone, Sonic vs. Shadow and Sonic vs. Nine specifically is so interesting and messy and I don't know why that took a backseat, ESPECIALLY SHADOW ALMOST ENTIRELY, for most of the season.

Like like like is this eggman prime or...? also as funny as that giant eggman at the end was, it was still like, in the moment for me, so irrevelant to the drama happening with Sonic and Nine that i was like laughing nervously?

like i wasn't super hyped or invested in that moment until sonic went into prime!sonic or whatever his new super form is with the purple eyes. like i was like oh there's really a big eggman right there huh?

hm.

like ik marketing will never leave eggman out but god damn it should sometimes. and I love eggman but im realizing how much he takes away when there's promising seeds and ideas happening that get shortened, cut or strangled by having to insert him in all the time.

Like the season ending so well is the build up to Sonic and Nine's relationship going up in flames and much more dramatic than Sonic fighting more Eggman robots. Like I'm sorry, he functions best as secondary to the mobians and his screen time really should reflect that.

Like, are u really throwing visual stimuli on screen for the old sonic folks and the baby ones and some quick cheap jokes about boomers and white liberal millenials? cuz why else is that fam eating up so much time??

also when sonic did this so quick and ran i nearly pissed and shitted myself laughing that cut was righteous.

like grr!! there were good jokes and moments this season- if they focus on the stronger parts of season 2 for season 3 (and take as long as u want if it means it'll be good pls god fucking pay writers and artists well or i will literally wolf out and eat u alive) it'll be a kick ass season!

and ik it's probs treats for the sonadow fans and not a promise of a follow through on it but wow they were so fruity with each other this season i got embarrassed for them like ????? u guys are really acting like this and not thinking anyone knows what u are??? GAH

it almost tricked me for a second that something more could happen. but if shadow continues the amount of screen time he's had the last two seasons in the next season(s) then sonadow is the least of my concerns. probs wont be much of shadow at all, and that fucking sux cuz he's so cool in this show.

for the popularity of shadow in the fandom u would never know given the superficiality of his involvement in projects since his game flopped.

like prime and the sonic 3 movie gave me hope that would turn around but I'm like uh oh are they wiggling shadow at the doorway to get us in and shafting us once they got our cash? ugh.

being cynical sux but never again. voltron was my 9/11 fjxjjxxjdhdhhdhsj

my thoughts (screenshotted from my tags on other posts djdndj) on season 2 of sonic prime bc i didn't realize how many thoughts i was having until i saw posts and im losing it

(spoilers under cut off)

[yearninqheart]

loneliness was built for two

oh what a tragic way of living it was to be utterly alone during an endless lifespan.

pairing: morpheus x reader

word count: 1.5k

tags: gender-neutral!reader, immortal!reader, unreliable narrator, past lovers, lowkey endgame, pre-sandman series,

warnings: minor implications of physical abuse, my rusty writing (pls its been months im sorry), uploading this at like 9pm so sorry for any errors

notes: yes this was inspired was the bonus calliope episode. no i do not have any original ideas ok i do but i just do not have the time/energy to complete them yet

You sensed his presence the moment he appeared in the dark corner of your bedroom. You didn’t need to glance towards your left to know that he was standing there, looking at you with an unreadable expression as always as you kept your attention glued to the moon up in the night sky. 

Neither of you knew what to say, so you simply remained quiet. For the next few moments, the two of you appeared to remain frozen in place as you raked your minds for absolutely anything to say. Surely there was something that could be said to break the awkward silence neither of you could ever recall experiencing in the past. Has things really changed that much?

It had been years–centuries to be exact– since you’ve both last seen each other but of all things that could be said to break the silence, the line Morpheus decided to go with was: “Hi.” 

You bit back a smile at his awkward greeting and for a moment, you almost considered removing your lip from your teeth. He always used to hate whenever you’d try to hide your smile. 

He also used to hate you. Or at least that's how he made you feel.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have bothered you.” You mentally cursed at yourself for stumbling over your words. And for calling out to him. “You didn’t have to come really. I just-”

“You could never be a bother.” His voice was soft. Much softer than the last time you spoke—or fought, rather—and for a moment the tenderness almost made you forget how harsh he last sounded. Almost. 

“Well then I apologize for wasting your time, My Lord.” You said dismissively, finally turning your head to face him. 

You quickly regretted that decision when you watched his eyes widen in a mix of shock, horror, and worry as the bruise blossoming on the right side of your neck was now clearly shown to him. Quickly turning your head around you hoped that he somehow wouldn’t have noticed but you knew it was no use. 

“You’re hurt.” He pointed out the obvious. You refrained yourself from scoffing at the observation and instead decide to gnaw on the inside of your cheek. 

You wondered if a part of his reaction was due to your formalities when you addressed him. Back then he was always ‘Morpheus’ or ‘Dear’ to you while ‘My Lord’ was for those who kneeled at his throne. He would have never let the day come that you stood in front of the throne rather than beside or on it. Even now he would still stand before you—even after all that's been said and done between you two and the centuries you’ve been apart. 

“I am fine.” There’s not much left that you could do anyways. 

“Who did this to you?” 

“I said that I am fine-”

“Then why did you call out for me?” 

Silence blanketed the air of your bedroom as you found yourself unable to respond to his question. Not because you didn’t know how to but rather, because your pride would never let you say that the reason you had called upon the Lord of Dreams was because you were scared. 

He had made you feel safe for so long when you were his and even after everything that’s happened, you’ve yet to find anyone else who gave you that same sense of security that you would call out for them after such a bitter parting. Perhaps that was why you didn’t hesitate to call out for him. Afterall he did vow to always be there for you, even if your relationship wasn’t in the same place as when he first made that promise to you. Morpheus was a man of his words. 

“It was Jesse.” You quietly admitted, shifting your gaze to your ankles while you ignored his stare. “They got into some fight, again, and I was just caught in the crossfire of it all.” 

It was only partly a lie what you told him but it was for the sake of your friend, even after what they had done to you. Yes your friend did get into another fight after another long night of drinking that almost led them to getting kicked out but it wasn’t the crossfire that resulted in your injury but rather, Jesse themselves. The fight was between the two of you anyways but you knew the lengths that Morpheus would go to get revenge so you acted like your heart didn’t ache at the fact that you had probably lost another friend over something stupid. It appeared that losing those you loved the most in your immortal life was the downside to your blessing of an immortal life. Or was it actually a curse?

“What do you want me to do?” He asked softly. Genuinely. No biting tone or malice intent behind any of his words. He just wanted to be here. As he once vowed to do so long ago. 

You hadn’t considered his question prior to calling him however. In the heat of the moment when their hands were still wrapped around your throat you had used up the last of your oxygen to call for him before darkness wrapped around your eyes and you collapsed, or so you led yourself to believe. 

What happened after you lost consciousness was still a mystery to you. A kind stranger who claimed to pried Jesse off of you a second after you hit the ground had stayed with you until you regained consciousness—which according to them, was just a few seconds later—and offered to drive you back to your apartment which led you both now here. 

“I could leave if you truly want?” Morpheus had begun to walk towards the door but you quickly shut him down, shocking not only him but yourself when your hand flew out to grab his own as a response.

“Please don’t.” He stiffened in shock at the unexpected action but obliged to your request nonetheless. His response came a nod as he stood there awkwardly by your bed as you held his hand. Your hold on him was loose, almost as if you were scared reality would ruin the moment and you realized this was all a dream. But you had refused to return to the Dreaming since the night you left and in turn, Morpheus hadn’t paid you any dreams ever since. Or nightmares, thankfully.

He squeezed your hand then bit back a smile when your grip on him tightened. He desperately wanted to pull you into him and wrap himself around you like he used to do so many years ago but times have changed. People change and he told himself his feelings have as well given the centuries you spent apart but tonight only proved his thoughts wrong. 

“Can I go back?” Morpheus turned to look at you confusingly. “To the Dreaming I mean, can I return to it one day?”

Oh.

It was odd to see the Dream Lord unable to respond. Oftentimes than not he usually knew exactly what to say or do in any given situation except for when it was with you. 

Desire had once called you a liability due to your unpredictable nature during a family gathering of the Endless siblings and Dream just almost reached their seat at the table before Death grabbed his arm to stop him. She may have managed to save the gathering from becoming a bloodbath but the stares as sharp as daggers being thrown across the table did little to ease the new tension that Desire seemed to love whenever he was near. 

Perhaps in some ways they were right. There definitely had been situations where you were pulled into his messes due to your affiliation with the Dreaming and its ruler but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you first began seeking him out in his realm. And he knew what he was getting himself into when he began to let you. Or at least, to some extent he did. 

“Morpheus?” 

He wondered if you noticed the way he almost stumbled upon his words and nearly replied with, ‘Yes, dearest?’. 

You wondered if he noticed how you were almost expecting it and the pang of pain that struck you when it didn’t come.

“You can visit anytime you’d like.” 

You didn’t reply after that. Instead, you glanced up at him with a smile he hasn’t been able to see in such a long time and he understood what it was that you were trying to say. You almost forgot that you were still holding his hand until he gave it another reassuring squeeze and reached for his leather pouch. 

Sand was sprinkled over your eyes and you felt as if the world around you was spinning violently as your vision turned to dark. You briefly felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders as your back met with the familiar surface of the bed before you finally felt yourself let go, your consciousness going to a place you had dared not enter for centuries until now. 

I’ll see you back home. 

[spicedeluxe]

TEASER | BULLET HEART

A RESIDENT EVIL 4 FANFICTION WHERE YOU, [NAME], HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED AN INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS MISSION. THIS ‘INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS’ MISSION IS ALSO YOUR FIRST BIG MISSION AS AN AGENT FOR USSTRATCOM. THIS WAS YOUR PROVING GROUNDS AND YOU DAMN SURE WEREN’T GOING TO MESS THIS OPPORTUNITY UP.

WELL, YOUR NEW PARTNER PROBABLY WOULDN’T LET YOU.

RINA’S NOTE: my first post!! hello all my cool cats and kittens. welcome to my brand spankin new resident evil 4 reader insert. i am going to heavily follow the story as much as i can, though outcomes will be different with you involved of course. this came to me after living under a rock + me not being into re as much anymore...then learning capcom was making a remake. i fell to my knees immediately. forgive me if i forget things from re i am a little rusty from y’know. leaving the fandom for so long—

originally this had a female reader in mind but i decided to make it gender neutral so everyone can be involved! to give a little insight, reader (you) is 25, has only 1 or 2 years of experience in usstratcom and tired of the bullshit being thrown at them. this is a various x reader and this is short yes but I HAD TO POST SOMETHINGFGG

RESIDENT EVIL © CAPCOM (pls don’t sue im broke i live off ramen noodles)

Case File #6710, otherwise known to you as the biggest mission you’ve ever been assigned by the government. You’ve taken on simpler missions before, usually getting intel or infiltrating certain places. It pales in comparison to what you’re taking on now.

The President’s daughter, Ashley Graham, had gotten kidnapped at least seven hours ago. Not only was the President himself a mess, but it sent USSTRATCOM into chaos, passing out the mission to as many agents in the agency who’d they think would be able to complete this as soon as possible.

Shockingly enough, it fell into your court. Once you were given this file (which was already incredibly detailed, how?!), you didn’t exactly know what to say. “Thank you”? “I appreciate it”?

To top things off, you weren’t the only agent assigned to this case. You were going to be accompanied by a man named Leon Kennedy, who was a veteran and is FAR more experienced than you are. They must have figured you not only could be his second set of eyes, but provide extra offense if necessary.

You’d like it better if it was someone you knew. You’ve never met this man in your entire life. You two weren’t even in the same branch. All you’ve ever heard was your coworkers gossiping about him. How “he’s so mysterious” and “easy on the eyes”. Some people even said he was a jerk.

When you met him, he was quite the charmer. He insisted you simply call him Leon instead of any formality. Every time you’d let an “Agent Kennedy” skip, he’d shake his head and chastise you.

He’s….nice. But he was also quite the looker! When you first met him, your gaze would always linger a bit too long on him. You could only pray to whatever god that was out there that he didn’t notice.

What made things worse is that in the days leading up to the mission, you just kept seeing him around.

Oh, you need to get a report? No problem, Leon’s bringing it to you.

How about grab some coffee? That’s funny. Leon’s getting his coffee too!

In a meeting and people are coming into the room? Hey! Leon’s here to participate.

It was driving you nuts. Some kind of Baader—Meinhof phenomenon, some curse, whatever you’d like to call it. Guess the Earth just wanted you to suffer.

That’s not really important though.

The two of you would take a flight to Europe and rescue Ashley. They informed the both of you that she had been in a rural community in Spain and that you’d reach it with the assistance from local police officers. They also requested for you two inform your support what occurs on the mission.

You were nervous, rightfully so, this big mission coupled with a new partner had just given you the chills all around. It simply gave you more of a reason to prove yourself…

Don’t fuck this up, [Name].

[system-architect]

if anyone ever wants 2 experience the fractal storyline fractals firsthand (chaos isles > nightmare > shattered observatory) at scale 1, i do not have experience beyond scale one but at those lower scales i will absolutely hold ur hand thru them and like if we can get a full party of likeminded ppl i can run folks thru and do achievements and make it a chill run and explain all the mechanics and help folks pick up the bonus achievement journals in chaos isles and shattered observatory that give u extra lore........ the fractals storyline was added to the game parallel to LS3 and i’m biased but frankly i think it’s better written than LS3 itself actually was mfgjkhd. i’d love to give folks a chance to experience it and introduce new ppl to fractals in a nontoxic environment u kno

[meguwumibear]

Kindling the Flames

pairing: dabi x jewish!reader

word count: 4,865

summary: the hanukkah au in which dabi busts through your window on the first night of hanukkah and is too wounded to leave aka hanukkah sameach to my fellow jewish folk

warnings: swf but slightly suggestive, brief description of a wound, reader is jewish so mentions of religion, blessings, and other cultural practices, this is like mostly fluff w a hint of angst, i 100% wrote this to satisfy my need for a hanukkah au, let me know if i missed anything

notes: this is my first full fic im posting pls be nice !!

The first time you see Dabi, he’s passed out on the floor of your living room, blood oozing from a nasty cut to his stomach. The bastard tracked snow into your house too. Wet, pinkish footprints litter the entrance to your living room, staining your freshly cleaned carpet. It’s been snowing for hours now, not the fluffy light snow that people wish for either; it’s that heavy, wet snow that fell too quickly and blanketed the world in its bitterness. You’ve always feared the cold; its presence has always filled your veins with ice water. Humans are warm which means life is warm. The absence of warmth means death.

The body on your floor is warm. He’s not dead, then, this mysterious stranger that broke into your house just as you where about to say the shehecheyanu. He doesn’t even feel close to death, which must mean he hasn’t lost that much blood. As you stand to scramble for a phone to call an ambulance, the man on the floor moves, his crimson hand jutting out to grab the skin of your ankle, and you have to swallow down what would’ve been a rather pathetic yelp had you not caught it.

“No…no doctors,” the man slurs, lips curled in a halfhearted sneer. “No cops.” His fingers loosen and his hand slumps back down to the floor, unconscious once again. You’re going to call the cops. You’re at least going to call an ambulance. What kind of bleeding man wouldn’t want you to do that? A dangerous one, no doubt.

But you’re looking down at his face, and he doesn’t seem all that dangerous. He seems fragile, like something precious that needed to be handled with care. You have no experience stitching or sewing, but if you could just stop his wound from bleeding, he’d probably last the night. Maybe he’d even let you call someone for him in the morning.

***

Dabi wakes up on a sofa he doesn’t remember falling asleep on to the sound of something tearing. When he opens his eyes, you’re standing a few feet away from him on your tiptoes, patching up your smashed window with duct tape. The sight of you bundled up in a winter jacket armed with nothing but a dwindling role of peeling tape almost makes him laugh.

Almost.

His stomach hurts too much for him to actually let one out, so he settles instead for a, “the fuck are you doing?” 

For a moment he doesn’t think you’re going to answer. For a moment he’s worried that maybe the words didn’t actually make their way out of his mouth, but then you’re turning slowly towards him, something akin to anger glistening in your eyes.

“Some asshole smashed through my window last night. I think the legal term for it is breaking and entering, but I don’t make a habit of interacting with the criminal legal system of this country, so I could be wrong.”

And Dabi can’t help it, he is laughing now, wounded stomach be damned, because you must not know who he is if you’re willingly using that tone with him. You must not know that in a matter of minutes he could reduce your entire, dainty house to ash.

His amusement, however, is cut short by the searing pain in his torso. The exchange is still worth it; he’s used to trading pain for a little bit of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he swears suddenly, as the seriousness of his wound finally sets in. “You…you didn’t stitch it?” 

The statement isn’t technically true. Once you saw how he was holding his many other wounds together—hundreds of rusty, old staples—you figured a few fresh ones wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, doctors use staples nowadays too.

“I’m not a nurse,” you tell him plainly, returning to your window, “and you’re the one who didn’t want me to bring you to a hospital. I did the best I could given the situation. It’s not like I planned on having some stranger smash his way into my house of the first night of Hanukkah.”

“I have to…” he begins, standing up too fast. The speed of the motion makes him lightheaded and sends him spiraling right back onto your couch. Head spinning from blood loss, it takes him a moment to realize you’ve abandoned patching up your window to tend to him. Your nimble fingers are tracing the outline of his pulsing puncture wound.

“Stop,” he shouts, or rather tries to shout. The word comes out whinier than he intended. and if his cheeks weren’t already flush from the pain they surely would’ve reddened in embarrassment. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he tries again, remembering who he is.

He doesn’t remember reaching for your hand, but your fingers are intertwined with his, both of your hands hovering dangerously close to his injury. 

“It hurts?” you say, words coming out as a question rather than a declaration. Realizing how stupid that must have sounded you add, “we have to put pressure on it to quell blood loss. I’m not sure how deep the wound goes, but if it’s any deeper than an inch your odds of bleeding out are…”

The end of the sentence dies in your throat. You’ve made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes, and there’s something troubling in them. He’s like a wounded animal: hurt and afraid. He’s aware he needs help, but he’s unsure how to receive it. His wide eyes dart frantically from his wound to you as he weighs the pros and cons of just burning you and bolting. It’s not like he can let you live after this anyway. Not after you’ve seen him.

But his wound hurts. Of course it fucking does; stab wounds always hurt, no matter how deep they go, though that isn’t why he doesn’t want you to touch it. Wounds are easy. Pain is easy. He was weened on it. Pain is familiar. He finds it comforting. Tenderness is its own kind of pain, though not one he has a tolerance for.

“Fine,” he eventually relents, releasing your fingers from his vice grip, “quell away.”

***

You manage to get the wound to stop bleeding a few minutes and a couple towels later, during which time Dabi asked if you had any drugs and nearly tore the wound back open laughing when you returned from the bathroom with a bottle of Tylenol.

After that he drifted back to sleep, and you finished taping the gaping hole in your window closed. It was a temporary fix at best, a band-aid over a bullet wound, but too much frigid air was seeping in through it for you to do nothing. Even with the layers of duct tape, a draft bellowed through your home now, a harbinger of another terrible night.

You check on him often. In between frying up latkes and lightening candles. After you’ve eaten dinner and before you brush your teeth. Despite the chill of the room, his body remains warm, like his heart is a coal smoldering inside him. You place the palm of your hand against his forehead one last time and slink off to bed.

He’s still there in the morning. You catch him rummaging through your cabinets around noon, muttering about the distinct lack of coffee in your home. “I can make hot chocolate,” you offer instead.

He stares at you incredulously, “why the fuck would I want hot chocolate?”

“Why would you want coffee?”

The two of you settle instead on orange juice and a breakfast of eggs and toast. He scarfs the food down like a man starved and doesn’t refuse when you offer to fry him up two more eggs. It occurs to you once again as he scarfs those down how fragile the man is.

“You got a name?” you ask him as he polishes off his third glass of orange juice. You’d left the cartoon on the table after realizing this man would sooner choke on his words than use them to ask for help.

“Most people do.”

You tell him yours.

He digs the meat of his knuckles into the brink of his nose. “Dabi,” he relents. “Name’s Dabi.”

***

The fourth night he asks you about your job and you tell him your agency was burnt to the ground last week. You’ve been furloughed ever since, but you’ve been taking the time to enjoy your holiday. You don’t normally get off for it unless it falls around Christmas.

There’s an ache in his chest as you talk about talk about the event. You were on your lunch break when it happened and just missed being consumed by the flames. He wants to chalk up the churning in the pit in his stomach to the stab wound, but he knows that isn’t what the knife punctured. His own memories of that day swirl around in his mind as you talk, tumultuous and tormenting, raging like the outside storm. Something akin to regret seeps its way into the hollowness of his bones. It’s been so long since he’s been full of anything except hatred, he’s unsure what to do with it. He figures the only this left to do is apologize; he forces the word sorry past his lips.

You shrug at him as he does it, “it isn’t your fault.”

It is his fault, he thinks as you clear away his dinner plate. You fed him fried potato pancakes with sour cream, laughing about how some people prefer apple sauce or ketchup. He didn’t get the joke, but he didn’t celebrate this holiday. He didn’t celebrate anything.

It is his fault, he thinks as he watches you light the shamash. Again, you laughed about something he didn’t understand, about the difference between a hanukkiah and a menorah. He wondered, then what it must be like to believe in something other than yourself.

It is his fault, he thinks as you hand him a crudely wrapped present. This time you were babbling about how the original holiday had little to do with gift giving. You wrapped a piece of the window he’d shattered in an old magazine for him. A keepsake to remember you by, you told him, as if he could ever forget someone like you.

***

The next day he realizes the sound of your voice has begun to sooth him. Listening to it gives him something other than the thoughts tumbling around in his brain to focus on. He starts pestering you with questions so that he can hear it. You don’t seem to mind. If anything, you seem to welcome the idle chatter, even if it is largely one sided.

“We eat fried food to commemorate that even though there was only enough oil to last one night, it kept the menorah lit for eight,” you’re telling him, eyes fixated on the simmering latkes. “You’re supposed to eat sufganiyot too, but I think they’re yucky, so I’ve always respectfully declined those at synagogue or parties.”

“Suf, suf-gone-what?”

“Sufganiyot,” you correct him, edges of your mouth quirking. “Jelly donuts. Horrible stuff. But it’s fried and we have to pay homage to the miracle oil, so most Jewish folk make do and gobble them up.”

When you don’t add anything else, he’s asking, “Is iit true that the oil lasted eight nights?”

You laugh, turning one of the latkes over, “no, but it’s a fun story to tell the kids.”

His eyebrow quirks at that. Kids? What kids? You live in a one bedroom house, and he’s been staying with you for days, Surely if you had a family he would’ve at least seen a picture of them. 

(He looked for pictures of them one night after you’d fallen asleep, noiselessly scouring your apartment for tidbits of information about you. All he managed to discover is that you had nothing of value, sentimental or otherwise). 

“You have kids?” he asks just to satiate his curiosity.

You laugh again—Dabi’s unsure if it’s at him or with him— “no.”

“Why not?” he can’t help himself now from asking such invasive questions. You’re cute and kind and clearly care about others. How had someone not snatched you up already? “You’re that age. You have the hips for it.” The last sentence comes tumbling out of his mouth before his brain has the good sense to filter his words.

Your eyebrows raise, “I suppose I just never wanted any.”

He hums, rapping his fingers against your kitchen table, “so what’s it all about then?”

“What?”

“Hannukah,” he clarifies. “What’s it really celebrate?”

You smile at the question, eyes suddenly swimming with nostalgia. Someone important to you told you the story. Someone important to you passed this knowledge onto you, and now you are passing it onto him. 

“Victory in battle. The preservation of our culture. The success of a few brave warriors against a society hell-bent on changing or slaughtering them.”

He lets the words ruminate. That’s certainly different that the Hanukkah story he knew. He’s thinking suddenly about your ancestors, about a group of people joining forces to fight oppression, about a group of people who’d rather die fighting against persecutors than succumb to them. 

“Why,” he trails off, “why not teach the kids that?”

What he wants to ask is how could you not teach kids that? How could you know something so special and spin tales of an elaborate fantasy instead? Do the youth not deserve to know about the courage of their ancestors? Should they be denied such knowledge simply because they are young?

You’re plating him a latke when you respond to both his asked and unasked questions, “oil is more palatable than war.”

***

When he wakes the sixth day, the throbbing pain in his torso has subsided to a dull pressure. Rationally, Dabi knows he shouldn’t push himself, that he needs more time to heal, but your house is beginning to suffocate him. His clothes smell like the oil you fry your potatoes in; his skin is being held together by the staples from your stapler; everywhere he looks he sees things that are so distinctly you.

You’ve sunken your teeth deep into him, woven bits of your flesh to his.

He has to leave before he becomes more you than himself.

The problem is he’s still bloody from the fight. You didn’t have any clothes that would fit him, so he’s still in his once white now red tattered t-shirt. And the snow hasn’t stopped falling since the night he broke in. It’s still gradually piling up outside your home. He thinks, maybe, that he could use the snow for cover—no one in their right mind would be out in such a storm—but in his current state he’s not sure that even his fire quirk could protect him from the raging blizzard. He’s fought too hard to get to where he is to let hypothermia or frostbite kill him.

He settles instead for a shower. Another horrible idea. The water feels warm against his skin, and he’s grateful for the water pressure, but everything in the bathroom reminds him of you too. He’s washing himself with your soap, shampooing himself with your shampoo. He wonders if he’s going to leave the house with any parts of him left.

He’s prodding at his healing wound with his fingers, towel tied snuggly around his waist, when you trot into the bathroom. Your eyes immediately find the puckered skin of his most recent battle scar, and you at least have the decency to not let your eyes wander to any others. You back out the door uttering a stream of apologies, and this time when Dabi closes the door behind him, he remembers to fucking lock it.

***

You stand on the other side of your bathroom door, willing yourself to calm down, trying to remember all of the breathing exercises and grounding techniques you once knew. The sight of Dabi shirtless in your bathroom has your heart lurching free of its confines as if it was trying to break free from where it’s imprisoned in your chest, like it’s trying to shatter the ribs that have for decades served both its protector and jailor.

Resentment quickly takes the place of whatever emotion you’d briefly been captivated by. This is your house. Dabi is the guest here. And he’s made himself a little too comfortable. Everywhere you look there’s something to remind you of the intruder in your home, from the broken window to the stained carpet, to the imprint on the sofa where he slept, to bloody bandages in the trash, to the pairs of dishes and glasses in the sink.

You have to ask him to leave. You have to make him leave.

You don’t.

Instead, you’re hanging one of your robes on the bathroom door for him. You don’t have anything that’ll fit his hulking form beside that, not even a pair of pajama pants. When the snow melts you can pick him up some shirts and sweats... 

Or not. 

He isn’t your responsibility. When the snow melts, he has to leave.

***

He watches you light the candles from his designated spot on the sofa. Always the tall one in the middle first, then the others. You tell him the middle candle is called the shamash and that it has to be lit first so that it can help light the others. He doesn’t understand why you have a designated candle for that when your lighter could do the job just fine. He asks you to repeat the blessings several times. He asks you what they mean. You talk about higher powers.

“I’m not a man of faith,” he tells you. “The way I see it, faith is about as good as fathers are.”

You’d cocked your head at that, “how do you figure?”

He shrugs, “neither are worth believing in. Neither are ever there. At the end of the day, no one is listening to our prayers.”

You inhale slowly as you let his words marinate in your mind, contemplating if you should respond. 

“I think,” you say gently, averting your eyes, “I think you’ve just never had either.”

***

The seventh day the electricity and gas shut off. The storm outside has overwhelmed both systems. The electric and gas companies weren’t prepared for this much snow so early in the year. You’ve been walking around the apartment swaddled in your fuzziest pajamas and blankets, obviously suffering for the corporations’ lack of planning, but Dabi has never felt better.

The only thing nagging at him is that he’s barely seen you all day. You’d emerged briefly around noon to make yourself some hot chocolate, swearing when you realized that if the electricity was out, that meant your microwave was out of service, and then slinked right back to the comfort of your bed. It shouldn’t bother him that you’re not around as much; it’s not like he needs you for anything. The staples in his stomach are holding, and he’s familiar with the lay out of your kitchen. He could feed himself if he got hungry.

Still, though, he wants to see you. He misses your idle chatter. You’ve been such a constant in his life these past six days. Your absence is like a phantom limb.

A little after dark he wanders by your room. You’ve left the door open. He could walk right into it if he wanted to, which he does want to, yet he doesn’t. Your bedroom is the only place left in your house he’s yet to explore. He’s seen the rest of you, seen the way you organize your kitchen cabinets, seen the books you keep by the sofa for easy access, seen the skin care products in your medicine cabinet.

You hear him pacing around the outside of your room, just beyond the forbidden boundary of your door. You left it open on purpose hoping he’d come by in case he needed anything. It’s too cold in your living room now. The crude duct tape job you’d done on your window is barely holding. The room is saturated with the bitter outside air. You still fear the cold. It foreshadows something wrong.

“Can I help you?” you finally snap, words coming out harsher than you mean for them to. Your body has been eating through calories all day trying to keep itself warm, and no matter how many layers of blankets you’ve burrowed into, the coldness permeates them.

He’s standing directly under your doorframe now, his silhouette barely visible. You think that you may have startled him. Like everything else in the house, he appears frozen, waxen like a statue, but then he’s saying, “you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“What do you care,” you bite, wincing as the words leave your mouth.

You’re pushing him away, you realize suddenly.

You fear more than just the cold.

“You have to eat something. It’ll help warm you up.”

He isn’t sure why that’s what he choses to say to you. He’s never been one to concern himself with the well-being of others. He’s never cared. Caring sucks, which is why Dabi doesn’t make a habit of it. It leads to heartaches and mistakes. As a rule, Dabi doesn’t care, especially for people, but you, well, you’ve somehow become an exception to his rule.

“Can’t cook anything,” you reply.

“Don’t need to. I know you have cereal.”

The two of you eat it on the sofa, taking turns dipping your hands into the box, actions illuminated by the candles of your menorah. The meal isn’t satisfying, but your body is grateful for the extra calories, even if you had to leave the comfort of your bed to consume them. The two of you eat through the entire box in silence. It would seem Dabi’s out of questions to ask you.

“Finished?” he asks when the very last of the cereal has been eaten. He says it because it’s the only thing to say. He says it because it’s the only thing left to say.

His scarred fingers brush yours as he attempts to take the box from you, and you can’t help but moan at the contact. He’s so warm. Impossibly warm. His long, inky fingers are radiating heat like ten miniature rays of sun.

You hope, vainly, that he missed the pathetic sound that smuggled its way past your traitorous lips. For the first time all day, you’re thankful that the lights are out so he can’t see how flush you’re becoming.

He does notice, though—because of course he notices—and he just can’t resist teasing you about it. “What’s the matter, hmm?” he’s cooing. “You cold princess?” He’s wrapping his hand around your wrist now, pulling it against the exposed flesh of his chest that’s peeking out from under the robe you’d given him.

“Fuck,” you whine, momentarily forgetting yourself, “how are you so warm?” You curl your frost-bitten fingers into the fabric of the robe. The cereal box drops to the floor beneath the two of you forgotten.

“If you weren’t so stubborn,” he preens, “we could’ve done this hourrrs ago.”

The words are mean and condescending, but they do little to deter you from scooching closer to him. How had you not noticed earlier that Dabi was a walking furnace? A mean furnace sure. Probably even a criminal furnace, but if you could really satiate your chilled body with his…

“Dabi…” you whimper, unsure of yourself. You want him to tug you closer. You want him to share his unnatural warmth with you. You want him.

And Dabi, Dabi is sure of himself. He’s scooting closer to where you sit on the sofa, pulling at you, drawing you into him so that you’re flush against his chest. He pulls you up and onto his lap, letting you burry your face into the crook of his neck. His legs are bare and warm beneath your own. You can feel his heat through the thick fabric of your pajama pants.

It should be enough, it is enough, but you selfishly want more. You hunger for his heat. You want to feast on his molten core. You want to tuck yourself inside the robe with him. You want to burrow deep into his skin, take up residence in his marrow.

You settle for pressing your fingers into the meat of his arms, letting them leech the chill from your hands.

“Dabi…” you try again, but he’s silencing you with a “shh, I know, I know,” while he strokes tenderly at your hair. He grabs at one of the many blankets you’d been tucked into earlier and wraps it around the both of you. “I’m tired, baby,” he says, “just let me hold you. Let me have you. Let me take care of you. You’ve been such a sweet host, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

***

You wake to a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the morning. Dabi won’t tell you how he managed it, only that he had his ways. You cup your hands gratefully around the mug as he scoops you back into his lap, your protests falling on deaf ears.

“It’s healed,” he mumbles into the top of your head as you remind him about his stab wound that keeps threatening to split back open. “But if you’re that worried about it, I suppose you can kiss it and make it better.”

You wrinkle your nose at the suggesting, taking a sip of your drink, letting it warm you from the inside out. The hot chocolate is both bitter and sweet on your tongue. The combination is safe and familiar. It’s somehow the best cup of hot chocolate you’ve ever had.

***

He asks you to read to him, which surprises you. You don’t tell him no. You pick up one of the paperback novels you’ve been working your way through and flip all the way back to the first chapter. The two of you take turns reading to each other until the sun dips to far beneath the horizon for either of you to make out any more words.

***

Your lighter refuses to work that night. You’ve been trying to coax a spark out of it for almost ten minutes now. When he tells you the thing is probably out of juice, your shoulders sag in defeat.

And fuck, the forlorn look in your eyes shatters something inside him. He recalls, briefly what it was like to be devoting to something. He remembers, fleetingly, what it was like to want to be a hero. “Close your eyes,” he tells you.

You blink at him, “why?”

“Just be a good girl and do as your told.”

When you open your eyes again, nine glowing candles greet them, their dim orange glow illuminating your tiny living room, their shadows dancing on the walls around the two of you. The urge to ask him how he managed to light your menorah is overwhelming, but you’re certain he’ll just tell you that he has his ways again. You ask him anyway.

“Hannukah miracle,” he shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Dabi-”

“Shh,” he says, pulling you snug against him. “Mysteries are more palatable than truths. Besides, don’t you have some blessings to recite?”

As he listens to you sing your prayer, he thinks vaguely about higher powers. Until now, he’s always worried that there was something out there watching him somewhere. Something omnipotent, someone keeping track of all of his sins so that when death finally came for him, his place in Hell would already be carved out; now he’s worried there was never anyone watching at all.

He supposes it doesn’t really matter if there’s someone out their listening to your prayers because he’s with you and he hears you. Your body thrums gently against his as you finish off the final blessing. He rubs the place below your bottom rib absentmindedly, thinking about genesis and creation and light.

He thinks about how Adam so willingly bit into the forbidden fruit, not out of naivete, but because the woman that he loved asked him too, because part of the fruit lived within her, which meant he needed part of it to live within him too. Dabi doesn’t think he could refuse the offering of a beloved one. He’d tear ravenously into forbidden fruits too.

In this scenario, Dabi’s unsure if you’re the temptress or the tempting. Are you Eve, Adam’s beloved, or are you the fruit, humanity’s beginning? Has your home become his Eden? What will he do with all the newfound knowledge bore to him from the sacred tree?

You turn to him after a couple of minutes, eager eyes illuminated by the golden flames, “Remind me, have I taught you the art of playing dreidel yet?”

He shakes his head and lets you guide him back into the living room where the two of you play dreidel until the flames from the menorah burn too low to read the lettering. He sits holding you on the sofa long after the candles burn out.

[whamcitycomedy]

ok um very random rusty lake thought I had that I will probably expand on later BUT one thing that rlly stood out to me in case 23 (and I think in other games too) was that Dale always referred to the crime scene where Laura died specifically as the MURDER scene… which I thought was sort of strange because it seemed like (based on that headline on the news channel) that people weren’t sure whether it was a suicide or murder. and I had previously been of the opinion that Laura had probably committed suicide, or that was at least the impression I got from Seasons, so when i noticed dale called it a “murder” scene my first thought was just “oh I must’ve been wrong and it rlly was a murder” but now I’m thinking… maybe it rlly was suicide (or at least unclear if it was) and the reason Dale specifically says a murder scene is more a reflection of him feeling responsible for it. not saying that he in any way was, I still am not sure if he even had met Laura before her death, but there is like this recurring theme with the lake about “one having to die so the other can live” (paraphrasing here) and it seems very much to apply to Dale and Laura, and especially in Paradox there were a lot of things that elaborated on this idea that both Laura and Dale couldn’t live one of them had to die, and im definitely gonna have to make another post about that cuz i don’t think im explaining it very well and I just have a lot of thoughts about Paradox in general… but im too tired for that rn so basically im saying that maybe the reason Dale calls it a murder scene is because he feels like (maybe unconsciously) that Laura is dead, to some degree, because he is alive. Idk just a thought I had it could also just mean that it literally was a murder, or maybe it was just a meaningless word choice, I’m not sure and I’m definitely gonna have to make another post but if anyone has any thoughts on this pls let me know I’d be interested to hear what ppl think :)

[ichorai]

cellmates ; one ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 3.1k

warnings / includes ; medieval au, blood and grime and death and everything in between rip, wooyoung being handsome despite being in a filthy cell djkdfj, wooyoung being a smartass, reader being petrified half the time lol, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; i’ve been meaning to write a medieval au for the longest time bcs im an absolute sucker for them and i finally got around to writing part one !!! pls be patient for part two !! i hope yall enjoy :3 

cellmates masterlist.

The jail cell was cold. You shivered violently, breath misting in front of you as you blew out a tired sigh. They had stripped you of all your clothes except a thin beige tank top (that had actually once been white), and ripped tights. Dried blood matted your hair to your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. It was too damn cold.

You found yourself wishing that you hadn’t stolen that necklace off of the innocent little princess. The silver glinting against her pale collarbones were just too enticing, the angry grumble of your stomach far too loud. That much silver would’ve cost a fortune; you wouldn’t have had to worry about food for years. Unfortunately, the guard caught you before you had time to make your escape, by effectively knocking a heavy baton over your head. 

And the result of your desperate endeavor? A small, icy jail cell in the farthest and darkest corner of the dungeons. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

A life sentence for attempting to ‘harm’ the princess. Oh please, all you really wanted was to go to bed without your belly twisting painfully in hunger. At least they weren’t barbaric enough to hang you for that.

The thought had tremors running up your spine. Or perhaps it was the cold.

A dim amber light appeared from the corner of your eyes, echoing footsteps gradually getting louder with each thump. Was it dinner time already? You hadn’t even eaten yesterday’s yet.

The same guard you’d seen just about a thousand times by now appeared in front of the frigid metal bars, melting candle in hand. Grizzly beard blanketing his chin and jaw, faint scar mark running over his left cheekbone, and slanted eyes the color of the princess’ silver necklace. A daily reminder of your worst mistake, it would seem. 

He muttered something unintelligible before shoving a tray through the narrow slot, wintry water sloshing about in the small wooden cup with the same chunk of stale bread on the side that always tasted like metal.

How delicious. The cold had numbed you to the point where hunger was the least of your problems. 

You remembered when you had first gotten here, croaking out a wispy ‘thank you’ to the guard whenever he had given you your food, hoping that he’d take sympathy and give you a bit more, or maybe even get you a blanket. You were foolish back then, you thought solemnly, curling up tighter and burying your face in between your knees. 

Perhaps one of the worst things possible about being in jail was that you had absolutely nothing to do. Sometimes you would try to exercise to keep your blood running through your body and make sure your muscles hadn’t frozen over, but exhaustion constantly hung above you like a stormy cloud. More oftenly, you would make up fantastical stories including dragons and elves and faeries. But after hundreds (or maybe it was just around twenty, but who was counting?) of different stories, your creativity would run short and you would find yourself pausing mid-story, trailing off into a disappointing end of ‘and they lived till they died’.

Turns out you weren’t going to be bored alone, at least. 

You had been in a fitful slumber when you heard the footsteps approach. That was strange, usually there’d only be the one guard to deliver your measly dinner.

Curious eyes grew wide when you took sight of two guards holding up an unconscious man, the toes of his worn leather boots dragging against the damp stones of the dungeon ground. 

What you wouldn’t give for a nice pair of leather boots. Your toes twitched in your worn socks at the thought.

They began stripping him of his clothes, much like they had done to you in the beginning, grunts of exertion leaving them in misty huffs. They left shortly after, grumbling about being ‘fuckin’ cold’. As if they had any right to complain.

In the dim light of the candles, you could barely make out what the new prisoner looked like. He was slumped up against one of the icy stone walls, dark hair tied into a short ponytail. A low groan escaped the man, foot twitching as he slowly aroused from unconsciousness. 

“Fuck,” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. He pushed against the floor to prop himself up at a better angle. More curses left his lips in a rapid flurry. You watched in timid fascination as he raised a pale hand to dab against his forehead, hissing when he pulled away with crimson staining his skin.

Looking upwards, he finally caught your curious gaze. 

The two of you stared at one another for a second before he huffed, reaching up to his head once more. This time, his fingers didn’t only pull away with blood, but with a thin hair pin that glinted against the candle’s small flame.

You hadn’t noticed that your mouth was hanging slightly open when he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with effort and cold.

And he started picking the lock, stopping every minute or so to blow his breath onto his quickly numbing fingers.

After less than ten minutes, the frozen bars swung open with a rusty creak. 

At that point, you yourself had gotten up, eyes widening. You shuffled closer to your own locked bars. It was as if the man had forgotten you were there, flinching when he turned and saw you pressed up against your cell.

“Don’t leave me here,” You whispered, starting to feel the familiar feeling of desperation clawing at your throat.

For a second, he looked conflicted. A hard, determined film passed over his eyes and he tore his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Was all he said. 

And he left, just as quickly as he had come.

Strings of foul curses left his mouth once he was dragged back. And this time, he was far bloodier than before. He barely looked like the same person.

You had to hold in a breath as they threw his limp body back into the cell, one of them spitting at his feet. Grimacing, you looked away and scowled.

Perhaps if he had let you out as well, the both of you would’ve been able to escape.

Ten minutes after the guards had left, the man across from you reached behind his back to pull something out. He didn’t have another hair pin, did he? Would he let you out this time?

Probably not, you thought bitterly.

The object he pulled out was small and round, a shiny red ball that seemed to glisten beneath the candlelight.

It made a resonating thud against the stone of the cell, echoing down the halls. 

And he did it again. And again. And three, four, ten times more.

“Please stop,” You found yourself saying, a headache brewing behind your temple. But your voice was too soft, drowned out by the incessant bouncing of his rubber ball.

Downing what was left in the damp wooden, you mustered the courage to croakily shriek, “Stop! Please, stop!” 

Startled by your sudden noise, he hadn’t been able to catch the ball’s last bounce, and crimson streaked past as it hit the wall behind him, ricocheting past the jail bars and out into the hallway. You watched silently as it rolled away, until it was far out of your sight.

“Bitch,” You heard him mutter under his breath.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you sneered at him, “You’re a fool, you know. Thinking you could escape a place like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows raised while he shuffled closer, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. Now that he was out of the shadows, you managed to get a proper look of his face. He was all bone and skin, dark hair grown a little too long, hazel eyes glinting along with the dim flames. “At least I managed to get out of my cell. That’s probably more than you’ve ever done.”

If he was trying to pick a fight with you, it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the point, anyways? There’s only so much out there for people like us.”

“People like us… ?”

Your eyes darted to him, and you immediately averted your gaze. It’d been a long time since anyone had properly looked at you. Perhaps under all the blood and grime, he’d actually be quite handsome.

“Commoners, peasants. We grow up stupid, work until our fingers bleed, and then die from a disease because we don’t have the money for a healer.”

A low rumble that could pass as a laugh worked its way out of him, “You’re telling me you would rather stay locked up in here than back outside? You don’t want to feel the sun on your face, the taste of sweet fruits, the warmth of another human being?”

“Of course I do,” You retorted. “I’m just saying that it’s pointless.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long to keep track.”

At this point, you couldn’t really tell whether it was refreshing to talk to someone after so long, or just plain annoying. He stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. 

“What got you here?”

You huffed. There was no harm in telling him, right?

“I ripped a priceless necklace off of the princess because I was hungry.”

It was as if his volume tripled when he yelped, “You’re Y/N L/N?!”

How he had that much energy after getting beaten up twice, was still a mystery to you.

“The one and only.” You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It seemed that you were quite famous in the outside world. 

“That’s amazing,” He breathed out, eyes wide as he leaned further into the bars. “My name’s Wooyoung. I’m your new cellmate.”

Your eyes flickered to his once more. If you were going to be stuck here with him, might as well get to know him a little better.

“I’m not your cellmate,” You deadpanned, despite Wooyoung’s disappointed pout. “You’d need to be in the same cell as me to be my cellmate.”

One of his shoulders lifted in a half-shrug.

“So why are you here?” Part of you was afraid of what he was going to say. He didn’t really seem to strike you as someone who’d do anything seriously terrible… right?

“I… I just threw one or two punches at the crown prince, is all. And maybe a kick to the groin. And gave him a couple broken ribs.” He laughed a little at that last part, as if the memory amused him. 

“You what?”

Scoffing, Wooyoung flicked his hair out of his eyes, “I think you heard me perfectly clear, sweetheart.”

A strange feeling blossomed in your stomach. You shuffled a bit closer to your own bars, until the light hit your face. 

“Was it worth it?”

Wooyoung paused at the unexpected question.

“Yeah, I would do it again. A million times over.” It was the first time he looked away, a distant glaze over his eyes. “He was touching a servant girl and she was begging him to stop. But he didn’t. So I intervened.”

A palpable silence laid over the two of you, thick and heavy.

“Good,” Was all you said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s morning.”

You ignored him. Time didn’t matter anymore, not to you. Soon enough, he’d stop caring as well.

Hours and days melted into weeks and months, along with the frost on the bars and the icicles hanging off the ceilings.

At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Everything was wet. 

“Okay… would you rather live knowing how you die or live forever?” Wooyoung asked in queer tone, laying down on the ground with his bare back pressed against the damp stone.

You bit into a chunk of stale bread, pausing to chew around the hard crust before swallowing, “No one wants to live forever.”

“Rich people do,” He murmured, flipping over onto his stomach to do some push-ups.

You averted your eyes. He was right; if you were rich, you would’ve probably chosen the latter option too.

“I’ll choose to live forever when I get out of this goddamn cell. But for now, we’re sticking with knowing how I die,” The raven-haired man huffed out through each strenuous push-up. He’s been getting weaker and weaker by the day, living off of nothing but crispy bread and metallic water and the occasional measly slice of dry apple.

“You’re not getting out,” You scoffed. “We’re not getting out. Why do you keep saying that we will?”

Wooyoung falls flat onto his stomach, blowing his hair away from his eyes in frustration, “And why do you keep saying that we won’t? Do you really think we’re going to die here?”

Throwing your hands up into the air, mouth full and bread crumbs rimming your lips, you nodded vehemently, “Yes! Look around us, Wooyoung. How on Earth would you plan on getting out? I’ve been trying for forever before you came around. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but that was back when I wasn’t here. Now I am.”

“That’s absolutely great, genius. But guess what? We’re still stuck here!”

Wooyoung scowled at your salty remark. He crawled closer to the bars looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were near. 

Glancing back to you, he whisper-yelled, “I have a plan.” 

“That’s a stupid plan,” You sneered, deadpanning.

The man across from you rolled his eyes, “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“You do know they’ll find out eventually, right? We can’t just go back to our normal lives.”

“Then let’s run away.” His gaze bore into you as you felt yourself flush heavily. “You and me. We can sneak our way onto a fishing boat, sail off to someplace… not here.”

A shiver ran up your arms, gooseflesh prickling your skin, “Stop.” You mumbled. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

Wooyoung grasped the bars tightly, knuckles turning white, “Y/N, listen to me. We can do it. I swear, I’ll get you out of here.”

It was stupid, you knew it was. But you couldn’t help the small spark of hope flare in the middle of your chest, heart pumping just a tad quicker at his words. Hope was an intoxicating drug; you either get sucked into some sort of deluded fantasy, or live without the illusions of false happiness. 

However, The words left you before you even had a chance to hesitate. “You promise?”

“I swear on my next slice of dried apple.” He said, eyes twinkling with excitement behind the shaggy, overgrown hair. 

“Okay.” You breathed out, somewhat satisfied. The dull ache in your spine was ignored as you slumped against the stone wall, closing your eyes and imagining what outside was like. All you could recall about outside was how terrible it was. Of course, not as bad as being in here, but not much to look forward to.

Cracking an eye open, you glanced to Wooyoung, who had curled up into himself in the corner of his cell, slightly obscured by the shadows. 

Life outside seemed better when you imagined yourself with Wooyoung.

“Remember the plan?”

Wooyoung snorted, rolling his eyes, “How many times have you asked me that now?”

You scowled, “Just making sure you won’t mess anything up. Can you really guarantee you’re strong enough to knock him out?” 

Biting down on his lip, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “I’ll try my best. And if that’s not enough, well… it was nice meeting you.”

The two of you waited in tense silence for a couple minutes, the expected thudding of boots coming down to give the two of you your meals for the day. The familiar grey eyes of the guard swept over the two of you, bending down your cell first to shove the tray through the narrow slot like he had hundreds of times before. 

Then, he turned to Wooyoung.

“What’s on the menu today, sir?” 

Stormy eyes narrowed, the guard’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “Th’ same shit you eat every day.” His gravelly voice rumbled, clearly not used to prisoners being able to talk, much less form coherent sentences. “It’s what criminals like you deserve.”

A gasp of mock-offense left Wooyoung in the most dramatic manner possible, “Why, if stopping a rapist from raping is worse than being a killer and killing, then I must be the worst criminal alive.”

“You better shut your mouth before I get half the mind to carve your tongue out for you.” The guard spat, nearing closer towards the bars menacingly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t below leaving a prisoner bleeding and tongueless. 

Wooyoung did nothing but raise an eyebrow, “Oh, come now! I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of kills. Especially when you swore an oath to protect a murderous king!”

Your eyes widened slightly; you had no idea he would go as far as to claim treason. 

The guard, however, cackled the ugliest laugh you’d ever heard. “You seem really not to like your tongue, boy. Only, for that comment, they’ll be taking your head along with it.”

It all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t even have the time to scream if you wanted to. 

Just as the guard leaned closer tauntingly, nose almost brushing against the rusty metal bars, Wooyoung grabbed the front of the guard’s steel collar, yanking him forward into the metal columns with all of his might.

A sickening crack echoed across the stone. 

It happened again, and again, and three more times after that. Wooyoung was panting, eyes wild.

“Is he dead?” You craned your neck to try to get a good look, but it was too dark to make out much of anything. 

“No. He’ll wake up with a nasty concussion in a couple hours, give or take.” 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You asked, heart pounding far too loudly in your ribcage. The faint sound of jingling almost had you bursting into tears of joy. He had the keys.

A small, non-committal hum emitted from Wooyoung’s cell. “You learn from dreaming about all the different ways you could’ve done that to the crown prince. And thankfully, I got the chance.” Suddenly, Wooyoung appeared in front of your cell, a ring of small keys hanging from his pointer finger, the widest grin spread across his face. “Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

[ilovejaskierthebard]

Concept: In a more peaceful world, the Witchers are just a bunch of dudes with tragic pasts and Geralt is a horse-trainer, Lambert is a baker, Vesemir is the village schoolmaster, and Eskel is... uh... well, no one really knows, because he doesn't actually live in the village. He lives in the hills with his ten goats and sometimes on market days he comes down and sells cheese. How does he make this cheese? No one knows. It's pretty good, though.

Okay. First off. I love you and this whole soft concept and I just like, wanna throw myself into it like a crazy woman.

So Geralt is living his best horse-girl life and loving it. 100% teaches the local kids how to ride maybe even has little shows/games and gives tiny medals with horses on them because why not its 2 am and I wanna picture tiny babies on ponies while Geralt smiles okay

Ciri is deff a student and they super bond

-and maybe a certain Bard is like his only adult student who has "trouble" and needs leasons at different hours and its not cause Roach doesn't like him, maybe he just needs a refresher course. Late at night. Alone. Maybe someone loses a shirt?

Maybe Jaskier is actually a good rider, but saw Geralt the hot horse trainer and whoops he slipped and fell in love and DESPERATELY NEEDS LESSONS 'oh Geralt, I am so weak, please help me up? Oh Geralttttt I need help being balanced maybe you can sit behind me??' MAYBE I am just writing a romcom now and no one can stop me

TOSS A COIN TO YOUR HORSE TRAINER

((More like toss your coin to your well hung stable owner. 😉😉😉))

Lambert. Baker.

[Low hysterical laughter]

This bitch bakes. But like. Angrily?

He is still LamLam ok, big dude with the worst case of Resting Bitch Face since my own. But now in an apron that Geralt or Eskel stitched tiny angry muffins on it.

His bread and sweets are DELICATE and SOFT and works of ART ok but he is still Lambert, my favorite goblin baby so he will 100% make your baby the best most beautiful smash cake -fuck it probably looks like a mini unicorn with handcrafted icing flowers and edible gold leaf BUT he would also mutter and swear the whole time and threaten to burn the bakery down at least 7 times. Probably cries about it too.

10/10 if someone tries to steal his super special recipes he would stab them with a rusty bread knife.

Vesemir as a school master but also clearly the kept man of a local rich widow (*maybe a few, I mean I was thinking of Mignole, but whose to say Papa Vesemir can't be out and flirting with rich upper class ladies. Maybe he was a sugar baby in his younger days, okay. I won't kink shame a man who can kick Geralt's well toned ass. You do you, Papa V) so he doesn't need to work he just likes keeping himself busy and enjoys it. I see him lounging about, reading and maybe yelling at kids to get off his yard.

Its just Lambert setting up his bake sale ok

Eskel is hottest goat herder and that is just the facts. He still has his jacket. He still has his Codpiece of Destiny (let me fullfill that destiny jfc someone take my phone away from me pls I am just helplessly dissolving into a fantasy of Eskel the Hot Goat Dad)

He has a whole herd. All of them have names. Like Miss Daisy. Buttercup. Flora. Rascal. Lamb Chop (cus Lambert is a dick) Lil bleater is the baby of the group and maybe he got sick as a baby so Eskel spent a lot of time holding and cuddling him and so now lil Bleater 100% thinks Eskel is his mom and every time they are out just follows Eskel around.

-excuse me while I go cry real quick

Also he makes cheese because what else is he gonna do with all those goats?? Shut up Lambert he won't kill his babies. So. Cheese.

It starts out as a hobby and really simple cheeses but because Eskel is like, a secret foodie at heart suddenly it is like those special designer cheeses that people TRAVEL for. Maybe Lambert sells it at his bakery too?

Meanwhile every desperate housewife and well hung stable hand is just like in tears trying their horny very best to get into that Codpiece of Dreams & Destiny.

Eskel heads into town once a week and its a whole THING. People spend days thinking up lines to get his attention. Probably cheese related flirty puns because they all applied to Jaskier's World Class Flirting Courses. (Why wouldn't they?? His flirting is totally working with Geralt so maybe that's just how you get a hottie of that level??)

Poor Soul: Brie Mine 😉

Eskel: What? I don't have Brie?

Poor Soul about to get his money back: 😧

Everyone flirts their pants off but Eskel just doesn't get it. Maybe they are just being nice because of his scars? Maybe Lambert threatened them with burnt buns for a month?

Meanwhile there are like at least three people willing to propose marriage at any given time and help him raise all his goat babies IF HE WOULD JUST LET THEM???

Im done now.

[wskiha]

hello hello, everyone!! it's been a very long time since i last tried an idol directory so please forgive me if i'm a little rusty 🙈 for starters, here is kiha's profile and here is his career page, under the cut are a not so quick rundown and a couple of plot ideas. so please leave a ♡ on this post if anything catches your eye and/or you're always welcomed to my ims! i also have discord so if anyone prefers to plot through there just let me know 💖

ABOUT HIM

ahn kiha. a busan boy that moved to seoul in 2014 to live the big dream with big house, big cars and big rings. phoenix's main vocal and ladybug's #1 fan. he has liked them since their debut and he even auditioned with one of their songs (you've probably heard about this story or twice if you know phoenix/is close to him), has all their discography, knows all the choreographies and most of the songs.

used to drag one of his older brothers to go with him to the few fan meetings he had the opportunity to go.

either way. his core family is his parents + two older brothers. he and his brothers were mostly raised by their grandparents because mom and dad were always too busy working or traveling for work. and as a matter of fact, it was his granddad that showed him the path to music because he was part of an orchestra (played the violin) before retiring and was kiha's first music teacher and his favorite.

that being said, kiha is used to being not only the baby™ but the pampered baby™ and it shows in how much natural aegyo that he has and how shameless he's about it, also very much affectionate. even if you're not his friend friend, he's a leech.

but he's also self aware enough to see that he's not the youngest anymore so he has some pampering to do now instead of just receiving it. doesn't really mind it, doesn't really love it unless he's using that to tease someone.

kiha is very perceptive, especially about people, picking up mood cues and things like that and he reacts accordingly.

and as a good libra, he hates conflict but also is good at managing them because he mostly just wants to get it over with.

he's very interested in producing — participates in producing phoenix's songs — and actually his true interest in the entertainment industry was to be a producer, but decided to first try out as an idol to get the feeling of it sort of thing? also do some nice networking ngl but then ended up really enjoying performing and singing, just being part of phoenix overall.

the one thing he hated, however, about being part of phoenix was their predebut reality show. he felt awfully exposed to beginning to end but i guess every cloud has a silver lining because it really got him to feel close to the other members and he's very very fiercely protective of them — even if his bond with them was mostly (not entirely but very mostly) born out of this solidarity that they were in that same shit show together.

and that definitely affected how he is today since he's much more closed off about his emotions — albeit still friendly and with no problems with social interactions?? idk if that makes sense. it's just that he's the type to have lots of friends but not friends friends — and keeps most of the people that he meets at arm length and it's just very hard for him to let people in unless they're already in or they're part of phoenix — as it was explained in the bullet point above.

but overall a very chill boy with whining tendencies and protective instincts of a mama bear. also i probably still forgot a thing or two about him so i'd strongly recommend checking out his pages as well.

PLOT IDEAS

childhood friends! someone back from busan and they could either have drifted apart and are trying to reconnect now or it's like you've never been apart and cut off communication— or it could be indeed that you never cut off your communication — and you're still as close as you were back when you were idk five.

friends he met when he was still a trainee and keep in touch even after you ended up "separated" because of his (or your) debut or because of a change in agency.

producer friends! someone he hangs out with that also produces and you two always have fun together playing around with melodies and tunes so there's always one song coming out whenever you two hang out (even if most of the time it's not a serious one).

someone needing help with their singing? he's a good and patience teacher, 10/10, would recommend.

fellow ladybug fans??? he'll still argue he's #1 but it's always nice to meet people he can go all fanboy about and they actually join him.

someone who realizes that even though kiha is friendly with them and calls them a friend, he's still somewhat distant or it just feels like he's holding something back so you're either hurt and confront him about it because you've been friends for a while now or you just try to somehow close that distance between you two (maybe asking to hang out more often??? creating more memories together??? have more "bonding" moments???)

phoenix fans??? and he's your bias??? or idk he's a fan of your group??? and you're his bias?????

@/ladybug members, you could've heard of this boy that auditioned with your song and is such a huge fan so you're a little curious about him? especially when he's in the same company?? just pls come to talk to him

the obligatory "we're just friends but apparently our fans/fandoms ship us together so we could either make this awkward or milk the heck out of this because why not"

someone younger than him that he can't help but go all older brother on them because they just awake that side of him.

someone older than him that can't help going all older sibling on him because kiha just awakes that side of them.

idk i'm open to pretty much anything!