#it's a simple question. do you want to live or die?

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about Nene and how she find power in other people.

Nene gets overwhelmed easily and is very insecure, not just about her body but about her power, and smarts too.

When she thought Hanako may like her she wasn't sure about her judgement, but when Aoi who never even met hanako said 'oh yeah, he likes you~' she became far more confident.

Aoi must have been her reassurance for most of Nene's school life, so much so that when Aoi tells her "he might confess to you in the confession tree <3" Nene acts like that's the truth and spend the rest of the chapter giggily waiting for it.

She is right that Hanako have a crush on her, but when he start hiding behind excuses, she believes it right away. She never consider that his excuses and his feelings can both be true, she trust what he says more than her own judgement

When she started getting involved with the supernatural she start getting more and more doubts about herself. Her issues growing from the simple 'do they find me cute? can i get a boyfriend?' to questions about what is right and how much power she have.

She have a crisis when she learns Hanako used to be a living student, with a real life, who killed a real person. She become so helpless by this realization that she can't look at him in the eye.

Reality is so overwhelming, that she keep running away from Hanako.

There is no "Hanako is my friend anyways! His life doesn't matter what matter is the now!! Let's gooo!!" self talk in the garden. She want to hide. To give up.

Kou is the one that come to her side and reassure Nene that her feelings are valid, that not knowing what to is alright. That there is nothing wrong with being overwhelmed and doing all you can do, even when 'all you can do' isn't much.

They find strenght in each other.

Throught the entire manga Kou is there to cheer Nene up or to back up her plans. They are in this together.

Break the fake world? Rescue Hanako? Go to the Red House cause a kid is crying?? That's a Nene and Kou plan. That's their team effort. They got each other's back! They can do it!

Even when the idea isn't that good, Kou constantly cheer her, rewarding Nene for trying instead of giving up.

Most of the time Hanako is with Kou cheering her up, albeit not as upfront, being his indirect and 'haha just kidding i would die if i was vulnerable!' self.

Regardless, Nene got support through every step of this new and scary supernatural world!

Or at least... most of the time. Let's go over the instances where times were tough and Nene didn't have Kou and Hanako by her side. The times when she become her most vulnerable and insecure. She ceases to be "Your overwhelming grass type and beloved heroine Yashiro Nene!" and becomes Nene, the insecure high school girl.

When she learned about her death she was lost and confused, she didn't try to imply she could conquer death, she couldn't do anythnig, so she asked for guidance.

When she was given no real answer, just cryptic orders to stay in her caje forever cause hanako will 'solve everything', Nene was even more lost. And she was alone. No one to talk to in her time of need, no one to cheer her up.

We have no panels of her trying to break her window of wiggle between her caje bars because she isn't determined, she was devastated. So she cried and cried and tried to comfort herself

ONLY AFTER who knows how many doodles and time to process her feelings does her hopelessness turn into anger for Hanako and determination to change her situation.

She only fully enter "I will fight this! I can do it!! I won't do what Hanako want!!" mode after Mei visits her with a friendly dispossition and comforts her, giving her sweets to soothe her heart and give her energy.

Nene say her tears are false here, a mere ploy to make Mei lower her guard!! But it is rotted in real sadness.

The fire she gained after doodling her friends in the real world only spread into an inferno of determination when she is told she is deeply loved, that Hanako would sacrifice everything for her sake. That love is why this was made in the first place.

This world want to protect her, not kill her. Her hapiness is cheerished. And she isn't happy. She haven't loss the real world yet, she can still change things.

She was already determined to change things, but she doubles down on it, she gain more confidence and becomes bolder. She will kick and scream and try her best to win! Is amazing. She is sweating but she know what she is doing is right so she will do it!!

Throught the manga, as the time passes she start to stand up for herself more, she tries harder, she takes any opportunity she can to do something and believe in herself. She stop seeking superficial attention to feel worth.

Take her play of Oz for exemple, she want to be dorothy, the big role that is worthy of a beautiful dress and all the spotlight! Despite all her development and traumas she still cares that she was given a unimpressed role, that she 'isn't worthy' of the main role

But instead of being unable to focus on anything else except how bad her role is and how uncute it makes her, as the Nene from the start of the manga would, she get the strenght to move pass it and have fun, keeping her head high because she won't be alone.

Hanako will be there for her.

Hanako is one of her biggest strenghts, and when he is gone she is hit hard.

Her first instinct is to seek someone to talk too.

And when she can't, she falls. There is nothing she can do, her friends are already dead, and just like her own death, she doesn't know how to solve it.

Even when she feels better, going out to the arcade instead of being trapped alone in her room, the moment she remembers that she can't talk to her friends, that they are gone, she relapses again, sapped of all of her strenght.

She is 15, she can't handle this.

Her major sorces of comfort is still her close friends, which is normal, but she does gain strenght from other people.

Enters Teru and Akane.

Akane is one of the characters that push her to act when things are at their most hopeless, but unlike Kou and Aoi he isn't her cheerleader, he never coddles her. If she ask for reassurance that she is beautiful, or useful, or doing the right thing, he will either not give her that or straight up say "I dissagree".

Akane is not a source of hope for Nene, his belief in her is not nearly as strong as Kous or Hanako or Aoi's belief in her. Just as Nene's believe in herself isn't very strong in hopeless situations.

He never sugarcoats tragedy, in fact he consistently drag her back to how bleak things are. Ignore the arcade, don't distract yourself: Face reality.

He is open about his misery.

It mostly feel like he is processing his own feelings when he rants to Nene, but the end message is clear "I hate this, i want to try to change it. You want to, don't you?" which is exactly how Nene feels.

They are hopeless but they're not alone in this hopelessness. Despite Nene never working up with Akane during the rescue arc. This served as a reality check, which serves to process her feelings better.

Reality does sucks, there is no clear solution, she is unhappy, she does want to change things, she hates crying and being helpless while her friends are dead/suffering. So she eat a sugary sweet to comfort herself and she chin up.

Akane never says "you can do it, you are stronger than you think!" he sucks at comforting, I love him but oh god he sucks. But the message he gives her is till important "You have to do it." "You have to try anyways or you'll stay helpless."

Teru is the savior, Nene already idolized him from the start, but he is the one that showed them a way to rescue Aoi too. He is amazing. He can do the impossible!

Now let's jump to the new timeline.

Kou, her buddy, her biggest cheerleader, doesn't know her. It hit hards and she was so so happy to have him back!!

But just as quickly as she gets to see her buddy, Kou is gone, this is just a shell trying to lure her to death, the real one is dead at the bottom of a wheel.

She doesn't have the time to process that, because Hanako, her big source of comfort, doesn't exist. Amane, who she had watched be brutally slashed by Teru, have been possessed and wants to kill her and all her friends instead of protecting her.

Teru, this invincible guy (Nene wasn't present when No.6 took Teru down, so for her he is unbeatable) that made saving Aoi possible, is the first one down.

Everyone is doing what they can, so Nene does too, she want to help her friends, she can't let them be in danger! While Aoi takes charge, she doesn't allow herself to be too shocked and focus on destroying the tentacle attacking Akane.

But she is still terrified.

The last thing she want to do is to be alone. But she have too. Once more, Akane doesn't sugarcoat the situation, he says "This reality, it sucks, and if you want to change it, you have to act! Go!"

But this time he is left behind too. Nene is completely and utterly alone.

She has the weight of the world on her shoulders as she run through the city for who knows how long, but she is terrified and she doesn't have Akane to be terrified with her, just the weight of his words and the faint hope that they'll meet her in the big clock to keep her going.

She is doing something so so big, she need to talk to someone first, she need strenght. She need people.

So she seek them. And no one answers.

She crumbles, she becomes small. There is no heroine to be seem, just a teen girl in shambles after losing every. single. person that used to give her strenght.

That's why Tsuchigomori was needed.

Let her cry. Let her process the situation with a comforting sweet to gather the strenght to do what she must.

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.3 (Jinx x Reader)

(Had to re-upload, sorry, it got corrupted on my end, not sure if it showed up for anyone else)

Notes: SMUT ALERT!!! Yes, we finally got here. Sorry for taking so long, work and uni are currently making my life a little hectic. Apologies in advance for any typos, I am sure there are plenty, but I am very very very bad at proofreading. Also, pretty please read the CWs carefully! (also also, as usual, all my stuff is on AO3, under MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: After your whole gang is wiped out, you wake up at Jinx's place unharmed. You are angry at her, and she decided to make it up to you in a very special way.

CW: nsfw, dubious consent, edging, overstimulation, sex toys, descriptions of syringes/injections, very brief mentions of addiction/murder/suicide. Minors DNI!!!

A warm, heavy darkness enveloped you. It was almost humid; waves of it cascaded down your arms and legs, pressurized your head. You wondered whether you’ve died. While you were still alive, you never gave much thought to the afterlife. You liked to keep things simple: you live, then you die, and then nothing. Whether you’re good, whether you’re bad, whether you save starving orphans or set churches on fire. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. It was easier that way, you didn’t feel like you had to keep track of your sins. When your parents were still alive, they took you to a small, dingy church further topside sometimes, whenever your mother’s nervousness set in. You didn’t care much for it then. None of the very few kids there did. Did you care for it now? If you had the opportunity, would you atone for anything? There was plenty to atone for, of course. But would it make a difference?

You brought your attention back to the darkness. It pressed onto you from every direction, like a cocoon. Your thoughts drifted to reincarnation. Many years ago, you found yourself undercover at a brothel. You were looking for someone who frequented it. Who was it? Didn’t matter now.

You didn’t want to look suspicious, so you hired a girl. You couldn’t remember much of her now, except that she was tall and smelled of caramel.  

“So,” you remembered her voice. Velvety, almost baritone, “What are you looking for tonight?”

You remembered the tips of your ears tingling slightly at the question. You knew you couldn’t sleep with her, you were on the job and had to stay focused. But even if you could… You remembered being attracted to her, very much so. Her skin looked silky smooth and reflected, in an almost iridescent way, the light of the candles. You remembered your eyes lingering on her long fingers, wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Her big eyes, glistening at you from underneath fluffy eyelashes. You remembered shifting on the plush sofa, changing the cross of your legs. You remembered wanting her, in a way you knew people wanted one another. And you also remembered a weird, invisible, all-powerful force holding you in place, not letting you act on those desires. It wasn’t a sense of responsibility or duty, you knew that much. Was it guilt? Was it that, out of all the immoral and low shit you have done up to that point, that was something you felt like you had to atone for?

You didn’t have answers for any of those questions then. So, you said you just wanted to talk. She didn’t seem surprised. You were sure that that wasn’t the weirdest request she has ever gotten. Probably not even the weirdest thing she had to do that night. Easy money, if you will.

You let her do most of the talking. Partially because you were still on the lookout for your client, partially because you didn’t know what to talk about. She sunk into the sofa, swirling and delicately sipping her wine. She told you about her life: she was from a middle-class family, one of those that lived closer to the surface, but still technically in the undercity. She attended an upside boarding school for gifted girls, on a scholarship. Her first kiss was with a classmate, in a broom closet, she told you, leaning in closer and lowering her voice slightly, as if she was revealing a terrible secret. Much later, in her final year of school, she tried a boy. Didn’t like it very much, she confessed, scrunching her nose playfully. You let out an understanding scoff. You have never slept with a man, but having to seduce drunk bastards on a semi-regular basis was unpleasant enough.

She was a good student, excelling particularly in botany. She loved plants, flowers, trees, all of the things that were so scarce in the undercity. Secretly, she dreamt of bringing the lush greenery to the fissures, somehow figuring out a way to make it flourish in the toxic air. It would greatly improve air quality, she said. People would be healthier, and happier, surrounded by plants.

But then, a tragedy, too common in the undercity, struck. Her father became addicted to shimmer. It was a rapid descent. To that day, she did not know how he even came into contact with it, or what compelled him to take it. But he did. And he lost all semblance of humanity. It’s like he was replaced, she said somberly. Her father died, and in his place was a monster. She begged her mother to leave him, to run away, to retreat deeper into the undercity, if that’s what it took. But she stuck by him. She loved him. And during one of his shimmer-induced episodes, he killed her. And then, in a moment of clarity, during which he understood what he had done, he jumped off the bridge between the upper and under cities. Her mother was buried at a local cemetery, and his body was never found.

She left school the day she found out. Everything seemed pointless then. Flowers wouldn’t save the undercity, she realized.

But she had to live. And after several unsuccessful attempts at finding a job, she found herself on the steps of the brothel. At the time, she thought it would be a quick, temporary gig. Just to gather some money to get her life on track. But then she never left. Surprisingly, in this place, looked down on by the rest of the world, she finally felt accepted. At peace, even. Upside, she constantly had to pretend to be better off than she was. She had to act as though she went on vacations during school breaks, as opposed to retreating to the undercity, that her birthdays were spent at opulent restaurants and not in dingy bars, where the air was thick with smoke and gaseous remnants of shimmer. But here, surrounded by other people down on their luck, she felt as though she could breathe freely. Topside air, she said, despite all their plants and flowers, hurt her lungs.

The night went on, the guy you were looking for was nowhere to be seen. You gave her a brief rundown of your life, entirely made up, of course. Then your conversation turned theological.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked.

You furrowed your brow.

“I… am not sure what that means.”

She giggled and put her petal-soft hand on your shoulder, stroking it lightly.

“Well, some people believe that when you die, you are reborn, as someone or something different. Do you believe that?”

You thought about it for a moment. She continued rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder, and waves of warmth rushed through your body.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered, “I like to think that once we die, that’s it. Then there is nothing.”

“That’s a depressing way to think.”

“Works for me,” you shrugged, “I hope that the things I’ve done won’t catch up to me.”

She tilted her head to the side, a lock of hair falling onto her forehead.

“You don’t seem like the type of person to do bad things.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. In a sudden spur of confidence, you reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

“I do. I promise.”

Were you being reborn now? The cocoon of darkness enveloping you, was it a new womb? Were you about to see the light of the outside world for the first time again?

Your pondering was interrupted by something cold and wet brushing your forehead. A chill ripped through you, starting from your head and moving down to your toes at lightning speed. And then your face was brushed again. And again. And again.

Suddenly, everything went white. Your eyes, now open, rotated in their sockets wildly, trying to find anything at all to focus on. You were blinking furiously, trying to shed the milky film from the surface of your eyeballs. You tried to move, but something was holding your arms and legs down. All you could do was blink and shake your head.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay, I’m here, don’t thrash.” You heard a familiar voice. Jinx. It was Jinx.

Your surroundings came into view slowly. The first thing you saw was the blinding light of a lamp above you. You squinted your eyes instinctively and looked away. With every passing second, other things appeared before you. Walls, painted purple, a desk leaning against one of those walls. You could make out tiny nuts and bolts and other parts scattered across its surface. A wooden door.

You turned your head to the side and came face to face with Jinx. Her eyes were big, almost concerned, but mostly just curious. Being this close, you were able to make out the faintest whisper of freckles on her face. The microscopic cracks on her lips.

She held a moist rag in her hand. When you stopped thrashing around, she smiled down at you and brought the rag to your face. The same sensation as before. That’s what it was.

Your mind raced. You were now able to make out that you were laying on something soft and springy. A bed? A bed! It was a bed! Not your bed though, your one wasn’t quite this big. Then who’s? Jinx’s?

“Jinx?” your voice came out strained and raspy. She raised an eyebrow at you inquisitively.

“Where am I?”

“At my place.”

You scrunched your forehead. An all too familiar, sharp pain was resurfacing.

“Why am I at your place?”

Jinx gently tilted your chin so your eyes would meet hers again.

“Because I blew your gang up, and you got hurt.”

A strained groan ripped out of your throat. Memories of the latest events refilled your mind. You were at the courtyard, and then something in the bushes caught your attention, and then… You started drawing a blank, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Why?” was all you could utter. You weren’t sure how you felt. You were angry, yes. Incredibly angry. Furious, even. But not because Smeech and his goons were gone. It was something else, something less personal. It was the same feeling as the one you got when a neighbor’s toddler toppled over the pile of rocks you spent all morning building as a child. Scorching pain rose from the back of your head to your forehead.

You suddenly felt a warm breath on your cheek. You cracked your eyes open and saw that Jinx’s face was mere inches away from yours. Her eyes looked even bigger now, sadder.

“Please don’t be angry at me,” she whispered. For a moment, both of you were silent. You tried to collect your thoughts.

“Jinx,” you said, as sternly as your dry tongue could manage, “What happened?”

Jinx huffed and left your field of vision for a moment. You tried to sit up, but something was holding your arms and legs in place. You looked up at your hands and saw that they were bound to the bedpost with something resembling a thick ribbon. The same was true for your ankles.

“Jinx?” you called out. Suddenly, a weight came down on you. Before you could process anything, Jinx’s petite figure was sitting on your stomach, thighs on either side of your body. Your breath caught in your chest; she was so close now. Sweet-smelling heat radiated off her body. Her hands were encasing your head, her long blue bangs hanging down on you, tickling your nose.

“Silco gave the order, obviously,” she started. Her chest brushed against yours, and you suddenly felt the hardness of her nipples under her shirt, “I begged him to keep you alive, and he agreed. Tried to get you on our team. But you had to be stubborn,” she whispered the last sentence, dipping her head down to your ear. You instinctively tried to squeeze your thighs together, but the bindings on your ankles kept you in place. You did your best to steady your breathing.

“Why did he decide to kill them? What did they do?”

Jinx lifted her head back up and looked you in the eyes. You could have sworn you noticed a glint of magenta in her blue eyes. But that couldn’t have been true.

“They were stealing shimmer.”

The words took a few seconds to register in your mind. Smeech and his goons were… stealing? From Silco? That was beyond ridiculous, even for someone as dumb as Smeech.

“That’s impossible,” you shook your head, “I didn’t know anything about it. They wouldn’t do something like that.”

“And yet, they did. They didn’t tell you because they would have to give you a bigger cut.”

You blinked up at her. No way. No fucking way.

“They started almost as soon as we hired them. It was small at first, Silco even thought for a bit that his books weren’t adding up because he’s getting old. But then they got bolder. Some even started meddling with the Firelights. Your lot would let them steal freely, and in return they got a portion of the stock,” Jinx’s eyes narrowed, “We didn’t want a big fuss, so we decided to let y’all do your thing, and figure out who exactly was participating so they could be dealt with… privately. But it turned out almost everyone was in on it. The only dummies left out were you, and that one kid you took in several months ago.”

She suddenly grinned widely at you.

“He agreed to switch immediately. Smart kid. But you were just begging to skip right on into the grave.”

 Your head was killing now, and you shut your eyes again.

“Does it hurt?” you felt Jinx’s lips against your ear. All you could do was nod. This wasn’t real. None of this could be real.

She lifted off you, and you heard her footsteps get further away. They then got closer again. You cracked your eyelids open.

She was standing over you with a syringe of purple liquid in hand, looking over you curiously. Your body thrashed. It was shimmer again. Jinx cupped your cheek in the palm of her hand, grazing your cheek lightly with the long nail of her thumb.

“Shh… It’s okay. It’s for the pain.”

Before you could answer, you felt a cold needle press against the side of your neck. A small, pathetic yelp escaped your throat as it broke the skin, and you felt the liquid enter your vein. It tingled, sent a shiver down your spine. A sigh slipped past your lips as the pain started melting away. It was as though a fire was put out on the inside of your head. Your eyelids fluttered down slightly.

But then, a new sensation started taking over. It was small at first, a little warmth at the pit of your stomach. You didn’t even notice it at first. But the warmth grew; it spread from the pit of your stomach down between your legs. You felt something resembling a dull ache, not painful per say, but as though every nerve was firing off at your core. Your thighs tried in vain to squeeze together again, your breath exhilarated. You felt a bead of sweat start forming near your brow.

“Jinx… this stuff feels weird,” your voice came out in a breathy whisper, unfamiliar even to you, “Doesn’t feel the same.” 

The blue-haired girl leant over you, studying your squirming form. Her palm found the top of your head, and she stroked you gently.

“That’s because it’s not the same,” she cooed, tilting your chin to meet her gaze again, “Silco’s stuff is nice. Expensive. He keeps it locked away most of the time. I could break into his cabinet, of course, but I’ve got my hands on this stuff. Almost the same, but it has… a side effect. So, it’s considered a failed strand. I wouldn’t say so though.”

You tried your best to keep your cool as strange feelings roared through your body.

“What’s the side effect?”

Jinx laughed, then climbed on top of you again, painfully slowly. Her pelvis came down on yours, and you couldn’t feel but let out a small moan. You prayed she didn’t notice.

Jinx was sitting on top you now, arms crossed, looking down at you with her head tilted. Your eyes drifted from her face down to the delicate curve of her neck, down her chest and toned waist, before landing on the blue cloud tattoo on her hip. Her hips had the slightest bit of fat on them, and they looked so supple. Grabbable. Bitable, even. What the fuck are you thinking about?

“I think you know,” saying that, Jinx bucked her hips slightly, generating the smallest bit of friction between your bodies. Your head fell back onto the pillow, and you had to bite your lip to stifle whatever sound was about to come out. The fire from your head migrated to your body now.

You desperately tried to stay in control of the situation.

“Alright, very funny. Untie me now,” you hissed through gritted teeth, trying to seem composed. By all accounts, you were not doing very well.

Jinx lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Are you angry?” she asked. You couldn’t help but let a mean laugh rip out of you.

“Yeah? Obviously? You think you get to blow up my entire gang, erase years of my hard work, and that I won’t be angry at you?”

You saw Jinx’s expression fall ever so slightly, before restoring back to the smug look she had on before. She reached out her hand and stroked the side of your neck. Her nails scraped your skin softly. You tried your hardest not to react as she traced a sensitive spot near the base of your jaw.

“I figured you’d be angry,” she muttered, bringing her mouth to the shell of your ear. You yelped as she nipped the very corner with her teeth, “I will make it up to you, though.”

You turned your head and looked up at her.

“And how are you planning on doing that, exactly?” you tried to sound angry, but to your horror your voice came out soft, whiny, needy. Jinx’s eyes had a dangerous glint to them.

“Well,” she started, grinding down on your crotch slowly, watching your face keenly for any shadow of a reaction, “I see the way you look at me. The way you looked at me from the very beginning,” her mouth found your ear again, “you want to fuck me, don’t deny it. I see the way you stare at my tits when you think I’m not looking.”

You tried to interrupt her to defend yourself, but she pressed her finger to your lips.

“I like you too,” you felt her fingers get tangled in your hair and pull slightly. Your chin was tilted upwards now, neck fully exposed, “I was going to fuck you myself, at first. But I figured, you’re older, you’re so serious all the time. You would probably want to make the first move. So, I waited,” her knee suddenly moved in between your legs, pressing up to you, pushing your thighs apart, “I waited, and I waited, and I waited, but you wouldn’t do a thing. Just kept eye-fucking me, and that’s it. You know how frustrating that is, hm?”

Jinx’s knee bobbed lightly, sending jolts of electricity through your core. You clamped your teeth shut, trying not to embarrass yourself. Jinx sat up and looked down at you again. Her chest was heaving a little, and a faint blush spread through her cheeks.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she hummed, still teasing you with her knee. You felt a wetness start forming, and you feared she would make a mess of her pant leg, “Anything you want. What do you like, hm? Do you like to be rough? You like to pull hair? Want to call me names? Or are you more of a receiver?”

Your brain felt like it was melting. You didn’t know what to say, your lack of experience more evident than ever. Jinx’s face suddenly came down to your neck, and you felt her hot, wet tongue slide from the base of your neck up to the corner of your jaw. You couldn’t hold back anymore; a high pitched, lewd sound filled the air. You felt Jinx snicker against your neck.

“So eager,” she said, looking deeply into your eyes, “So, tell me. What do you want?”

There was no lying your way out of this one. You squeezed your eyes shut out of pure humiliation.

“I… I don’t know.”

Jinx’s nails, still tangled in your hair, scratched at your skull gently. Her voice softened, as though she was talking to a startled animal.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure whatever you are into isn’t that weird.”

You felt tears of frustration and shame form in the corners of your eyes. The shimmer coursing through your veins seemed to heighten more than just your physical sensitivity.

“I don’t know what I’m into! I’ve never done… this before, I don’t know.”

A silence filled the room. You cracked one of your eyes open and peeked and Jinx. You expected her to laugh at you. Maybe look at you in disgust, or with pity.

But, as your eyes met hers, you saw something entirely different, and your stomach churned. Her jaw tightened, and there was no mistaking it now: the hue of her eyes shifted from ocean-blue to magenta. The grip on your hair tightened, and you let out a pained cry. She looked over you with a newfound curiosity. There was something borderline predatory in her eyes.

“No way,” she said finally, loosening her grip. Her thumb came down onto your cheek and she stroked it, head tilted, studying you.

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Jinx planted her hands either side of your head.

“You haven’t been deflowered? Haven’t had your cherry popped?” her voice had a mocking tinge to it. You couldn’t keep looking her in the eyes, and you turned your head to look at the wall. Jinx grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to her roughly.

“Tell me,” her thumb was grazing your bottom lip now, “Did I get that right?”

All you could do was nod. A devious grin spread across Jinx’s face, and she suddenly pushed her thumb into your mouth. You were too caught off guard to fight her, and her thumb planted onto your tongue. She forced your mouth open and watched you for a moment, smearing saliva all around your mouth and on your bottom lip. You knew you looked pathetic, tied up, Jinx’s thumb in your mouth, and all you could do was keep staring up at her.

“How did you even manage that, huh? You’re so cute, I was sure someone has gotten to you by now,” Jinx whispered. You decided you were going to make a last-ditch attempt to escape. The embarrassment was too much.

“Jinx, untie me, please,” your words were muffled with your mouth obstructed.

A cackle, an almost maniacal laugh, came out from somewhere deep within Jinx, and she shoved her thumb deeper down your throat, almost making you gag.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding. No way I’m doing that now,” thumb still in your mouth, she planted soft kisses up your neck and nipped your earlobe, “I’ve never gotten to break in a virgin before, no way I’m letting you go.”  

Her lips found the sensitive spot on you neck and planted onto it tightly. You felt her kiss and lick at the spot, coaxing whines and mewls out you didn’t know you were capable producing.

“After all,” she muttered in between kisses, “you wouldn’t want the entire Zaun to find out that Smeech’s right hand, the living nightmare of dozens of gangsters, is a little  pathetic virgin,” she suddenly bit down on the soft flesh.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was nothing you could do, really. Your limbs were still immobilized, and Jinx was seated firmly on top of you, pressing your pelvis and torso into the bed. And on top of it all, you felt so incredibly warm. Scorching. Your blood became infused with burning humiliation and desire. With one hand still in your hair, Jinx took her fingers out of your mouth and glided them down your neck and chest, leaving a trail of purple shimmering saliva. She grabbed a handful of your breast and squeezed lightly. You didn’t typically wear a bra, being happy with just an undershirt, and you felt her sharp nail graze against your nipple through the fabric. A spark of pleasure ran up your nerves as you tried to stifle another moan. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed; deep down, this is what you wanted since the moment you met Jinx. So, now that she was feeling you up and you were entirely at her mercy, why did you feel such deep seeded shame?

Jinx was playing with your nipple through your shirt now, pinching and tugging lightly, occasionally running the sharp nail of her index finger over the hardening bud. The pressure between your legs built up mercilessly, and you desperately wanted to feel more, for her to do more. You bucked your hips instinctively, trying to generate more friction between your groin and Jinx’s knee. She snickered and tugged harder at your hair, forcing you to look her in the eyes again.

“Are you that desperate already? I’ve barely touched you, and you are already humping my knee,” she lowered her hand from your breast, fiddling with the hem of your shirt now, “I mean, I knew virgins are easy, but you are being outright slutty.”

Without a warning, she latched onto the hem of your shirt and pulled in up over your breasts. Your nipples fully hardened in the cold air. You saw Jinx’s eyes travel down, and she looked over your body with curiosity. You felt as though your face couldn’t get any warmer, and yet with every passing second more blood seemed to rush to your cheeks.

“How pretty,” she muttered, running the pad of her thumb over your nipple. You couldn’t hold in your moan, and it came out in a hoarse squeal. Jinx continued to play with your chest, occasionally moving from one breast to the other. Your thighs squeezed tighter around her as she rolled one of your nipples between her fingers.

She looked you in the eyes as her mouth lowered towards your chest. She planted a soft kiss onto your collar bone, then started slowly moving down. Her lips suddenly latched onto the flesh of one of your breasts, forming a seal. She sucked harshly, coaxing soft yelps out of you as she sucked in more air. When Jinx pulled away, a scarlet mouth-shaped mark was left on your breast, and she admired her work for a second before taking your hard nipple in her mouth. It felt warm and wet as she swirled her tongue around the bud, coating it in a thick layer of saliva. You couldn’t help but throw back your head, not holding back your voice now. It reverberated through the room, bouncing off the walls, and you wondered whether anyone could overhear you. As if reading your thoughts, Jinx nipped your nipple with her teeth, eliciting a louder scream. She then moved over to your other breast, toying with your abandoned nipple with the bad of your thumb as she sucked on the other one. You writhed against her, and she shifted more of her weight onto your torso to keep you in place.

With her lips still wrapped around one of your buds, Jinx glided her hand down to your crotch, palming you through your trousers. The newfound pressure was intoxicating, and you bucked into her hand, almost sobbing from how much you wanted her to touch you. Her fingers circled over your entrance, and you could see now that your wetness soaked all the way through the fabric.

“So fucking wet for me,” Jinx cooed, picking up the pace a little. Her mouth found the lobe of you ear and she took it between her teeth, nibbling softly as her palm continued its attack on your crotch. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Jinx, please…” your voice came out small, higher pitched than normal. She tilted her head, observing your expressions with a mischievous glint in her magenta eyes.

“Please what?” she teased, dragging her nail across where your clit would be under the layers of fabric. You whined and tried to buck into her hand again, but her fingers sunk into the flesh of your hip and she pushed you down forcefully. Her other hand found your hair again and yanked your head back, leaving you panting.

“Please, what?” her voice was stern now. Your lip quivered as you found her eyes with yours.

“Please… touch me more,” you managed in a strained whisper. Jinx’s eyes softened, her grip on your hip getting lighter as she rubbed gentle circles on your hip bone now.

“Well,” she muttered, hooking her index finger under your belt, her eyes never leaving yours, “Since you asked so nicely…”

You felt her work at your belt, sliding it out of its loops and letting it fall off the bed onto the floor with a loud clank. Jinx then pulled at the zipper of your trousers and pushed them down over your hips, leaving them pooled around your knees. You were splayed out under her now, ankles and wrists bound to the bedposts, purple drool dribbling down the side of your mouth, tits exposed and covered in hickeys and saliva, with only a pair of cotton underwear shielding your soaked core from the air of the bedroom. Jinx seemed to enjoy the view, letting go of you and sitting up for a moment, eyes tracing every curve of your defenseless figure.

“What a little slut you are,” she said, softly grazing your clit through your panties, making you shudder in pleasure, “Imagine if your folk ever saw you like this, hm? I bet they wanted to fuck you the whole time you were with them,” she slapped your entrance softly, “And yet, I’m the one that gets to have a taste of you first. Isn’t that funny?”

The pads of her fingers were circling against your barely clothed, dripping pussy now. She started out agonizingly slow, but with every passing second, Jinx picked up her speed, letting louder and lewder sounds spill out of you. You were writhing against her hand wildly, chasing your high; you felt a knot start forming in the pit of your stomach, as if something inside you was going to burst. You’ve never felt this way before, but instinctually you knew that that burst would feel delicious. As you got closer, Jinx grabbed your cheeks with your free hand and forced you to look at her. She was taking in your expression, drinking up your desperation and want. Her thumb made it into your mouth again, smearing your spit all over your bottom lip.

“You wanna cum already?” she asked, the speed of her hand relentless against your crotch. You couldn’t produce any coherent words, resorting to simply nodding whilst letting out an unintelligible groan. Jinx’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in closer to your face. You felt the sweet hotness of her breath against your mouth, and you tried to lean forward to kiss her, but she yanked your hair, forcing your head to fall back onto the pillow. As you inched closer to your release you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation. You were so close, so painfully close, just a couple more seconds and you would–

Jinx’s fingers left your aching pussy in the last second. You let out a frustrated whine, bucking helplessly into the air, trying to generate any kind of friction, anything to bring you over the edge. You squirmed in frustration, the ribbon against your wrists and ankles digging deeper into your skin.

Your pleading eyes found Jinx’s. She was still holding you by the hair, studying your face, her other hand resting on your lower stomach now. She had a pleased smirk on her face, by all accounts she seemed to enjoy torturing you. Her facial expression quickly shifted into a mockingly sympathetic one.

“Ow, poor baby… What’s wrong?” her fingers traced your abdomen lazily as an aching want raged on between your legs, “Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

Your head fell back into the pillow in defeat, Below, you felt Jinx hook one of her long nails under the band of your sopped underwear and pull them down slowly, peeling the fabric away from your core and slipping them down to your knees in the same manner as your trousers. You were fully exposed now, and you could feel streams of your wetness cascade down your thighs onto the mattress. Jinx shifted down, planting kisses down your stomach until her mouth was hovering just over your entrance. Her eyes never left yours as she lowered her tongue slowly onto your clit. It was hot and wet, and you couldn’t help but moan as your hips jerked up. Jinx gripped both of your thighs and pulled them apart further, spreading you out in front of her. Slowly, she started lapping away at your clit, sending jolts of pure pleasure up your thighs. As heat started rising from within you again, she picked up the pace, her tongue gliding across your pussy and in between your folds, giving special attention to your throbbing clit. You could see her lips and chin become coated in your juices. Your wetness was also had a purple sheen to it, a common after-effect of taking shimmer. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged moans.

Jinx’s tongue was dancing wildly over your clit now, and you felt your release rapidly approach again. It felt more intense this time, building upon your unresolved orgasm from before. With every lap Jinx took at your pussy your moans got louder, and you bucked into her mouth. Your mind was liquefying by the second.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. A wave of warmth spread from your groin throughout your body, a pleasant ache spread through your core, rolling through it again and again as screams of pleasure ripped through you. Jinx held down your hips and licked you through your release, every lick sending additional sparks through your body. You chanted her name like a prayer, wishing you could burry your hands in her electric blue hair.

When the fire in your core died down, Jinx pulled away from your pussy. Purple liquid was smeared over her mouth and chin, and she wiped some away with the back of her hand before lunging forward and crushing her mouth against yours. You tasted yourself on her tongue, the shimmer making your juices taste ever so slightly fruity. Her tongue pushed past your lips with ease, and all you could is moan into her mouth as she explored your mouth. Your tongue glided against hers, spit mixing with your wetness in a cacophony of flavors. You were breathless as she pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your lips. She wiped her mouth and grinned at you.

“How was that?” her voice was cocky. She seemed incredibly proud of herself. You gazed at her through half-lidded eyes.

“So fucking good, Jinx,” you muttered, throwing your head back onto the pillow, trying to catch your breath. A pleasant warmth spread through you. You heard Jinx hop off the bed and move away into the far corner of the room. You closed your eyes, feeling the remnants of your orgasm swarm through your body.

You heard Jinx rummage around her cupboards. Opening your eyes, you saw her approach the bed with a small box. You lifted your head in curiosity, trying to figure out what was in there. She set the box down on the bed, a mischievous grin spreading on her face. You suddenly got scared.

“What’s that?” you asked carefully. You tried to figure it out, but your mind was still swarming from the pleasure, a sweet fog enveloping you.

Jinx glanced over at you and giggled.

“You’ll see.”

You tried to lean forward more as she lifted the lid off the box. In there were laid devices you were unfamiliar with. A couple of them were of a cylindrical shape, some with prominent ridges, others completely smooth. You looked at Jinx in confusion.

She snickered a picked a small, bullet-shaped device out of the box. It was completely smooth, except for a small button at the base. You watched in astonishment as Jinx pressed the button, and the device started buzzing in her hand. She climbed on top of you again, mysterious object in hand.

Without saying a word, she forced your mouth open and shoved the device inside; it vibrated against your teeth. Jinx swirled the object around in your mouth, coating it in your spit. When it was sufficiently lubricated, she pulled it out. Before you could ask what she was doing, she lowered the tip of the device onto your nipple. An intense pleasure shot through you, and you arched your back as the pleasant sensation rolled through your body. The moist, vibrating bullet felt amazing against your skin.

“You like that?” you heard Jinx ask. She was watching your reactions carefully.

“These are all prototypes,” she continues, swirling the toy around each nipple, “You’d be surprised how many people in the Undercity are after a good sex toy.”

The next thing you knew, the device was pressed up to your clit. Your whole body jolted, the sensation was too strong, the pleasure too overpowering. You tried to get away from the vibrator, but Jinx held you firmly in place as she continued her assault on your senses. The pleasure morphed into something resembling a dull pain. You sobbed.

“Jinx, please, wait, it’s too much,” you begged. All you heard was Jinx’s dark chuckle as she pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

“You can take it,” was all she said. She slid the device up and down your entrance, circling your clit, and your vision went dark with pleasure. Your mouth hung open, your hips bucked and twitched in a directionless manner. Another wave of release washed over you quickly, so intense that it spread through your core in a sharp pain. A wail escaped you as you tried desperately to pull away from the vibrator that was still pressed against you. Jinx was giggling villainously now, evidently enjoying your struggle.

“Good girl, such a good girl… Shh, its okay,” she muttered over you as you cried, desperately thrashing, trying to move away from the toy. After a few more seconds, she finally took it off you. Sparks of pain and pleasure continued shooting through your core and abdomen as you tried to catch your breath. Your clit was red and swollen now, and the mattress underneath you was slick from your juices.

You watched Jinx as she tossed the vibrator onto the mattress and reached back into the box again. The cogs in your brain started turning as you realized what she was up to.

“Please, Jinx, I can’t take any more,” you whined, tears rolling down your face, core burning from overstimulation. Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, she reached backwards and pulled at the knots around your ankles, releasing them. She delicately massaged the red lines left on your flesh, before grabbing you by the hip and turning you over onto your stomach. You were still bound to the bedpost by your wrists, and the bindings around them tightened. You felt Jinx snake a hand underneath your stomach and pull your hips up, pushing your face down into the pillow by the hair. Your ass was now raised in the air, the cool air hitting your pussy, still soaked and throbbing. You couldn’t see what Jinx was doing, but you heard her rummage around in her box, presumably looking for a new toy. As she took her pick, her finger grazed the slit of your entrance. You heard her pick something out of the pile and spit on it. Your insides clenched in horrified anticipation; you were overstimulated beyond belief.

A choked cry escaped your throat as you felt something press up to you, teasing your entrance. It felt bulbous and wet from Jinx’s spit. You turned your head to the side and tried to find Jinx. You saw her, sitting next to you, holding up your hips in the air with one hand and pressing a phallic, ribbed object up to your dripping pussy. It was ribbed, with a large head. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to brace yourself.

“You think you can take it for me, hm?” you heard Jinx whisper in your ear, knowing damn well that it didn’t matter what you answered.

You felt the head of the dildo move between the lips, pushing into you. You whimpered and felt Jinx plant a gentle kiss onto your temple.

“Shh, you are doing so well for me. Don’t be scared.”

The toy slowly stretched you as Jinx pushed it further. With every new inch that entered you, you let out a pained moan, the ribbing on the base stretching you even further. The pillow was wet from tears now. Finally, you felt the base of the toy hit your ass as all of it was now planted inside of you, filling every inch. Jinx stopped moving it, letting you adjust to the size of the toy, your walls desperately trying to accommodate it. She planted soft kisses on your shoulder as you got used to the feeling.

After a few minutes, you felt Jinx start to slowly pull the dildo out of you. As each ridge moved through your walls, a half-pleasurable, half-painful sensation shot through you. You bit your lip as you felt the toy slide back in. Jinx was gently thrusting it in and out of you now, taking care not to go too quickly. The pain morphed into pleasure, and as small moans started spilling out of you, she picked up the pace. Her toy was hitting deep inside you now, the ridges massaging you from the inside. The speed only got faster, and you felt a string of drool fall from your mouth onto the pillow, your eyes rolled back. Your stomach felt tight, it was way too much, every thrust coaxed an animalistic scream out of you. Suddenly you heard a familiar click, and the dildo started vibrating. The combination of vibration and thrusts made you bite down on the pillow as hard as you could, your thighs spasmed and struggled to keep your hips up in the air.

“Does it feel that good, hm? You can’t even keep yourself up?” Jinx’s breath brushed your ear as she pounded away mercilessly at you. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. Another release was on its way, and you could already tell it would be more intense than you could ever imagine. Jinx’s finger snaked underneath you and circled your clit vigorously. Your screams couldn’t get any louder.

“Come on, cum for me. Cum for me, you fucking slut,” she hissed in your ear, “You like to be fucked so much, huh? You like when I fuck you? If anyone else tries to touch you, you will only think of me; my tongue, my fingers, my toys, me,” she took her hand away from your clit for a second to pull your hair, lifting your head slightly. Her mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Tell me. Tell me you are mine. Tell me you are my little whore.”

You yelped as the grip on your hair got tighter.

“I’m yours, Jinx, I’m only yours. I’m your whore,” you whined, trying to choke down your sobs.

Satisfied, Jinx let go of your hair and started circling your clit again. You screamed, and a wave of pain and pleasure washed over you as she sent you over the edge. Your walls clenched around the toy, and you pressed your thighs together tightly as your hips shook uncontrollably. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed onto the bed, still twitching as Jinx pulled out of you.

As you laid on your stomach, breathless, small sequels still passing your lips, Jinx turned you onto your back again and climbed on top of you. She brought the head of your toy to your mouth and you, delirious, wrapped your lips around it, taking it deeply into your throat, cleaning off your juices. Jinx’s eyes were barely visible from underneath her eyelashes, but you could see a dangerous magenta glow emanate from them as she watched you lick the mess off the dildo. She pulled it out of your mouth with a loud pop and tossed it to the side. She quickly untied your wrists, planting kisses onto the raw skin, and plopped onto the mattress next to you. She pulled the covers over the both of you, and her arms snaked around your waist as she pressed her small body up to you from behind. She felt delicate and warm, it was hard to believe that mere moments ago she was ferociously fucking you, humiliating you, calling you names. Your eyes started fluttering shut as you felt her press small, quick kisses onto the nape of your neck. You tried to turn around to face her, but she held you in place.

“But, what about you?” you asked. You knew damn well you were in no position to return the favor in that moment, but that didn’t stop the guilt from bubbling up. You felt her chest rumble against your back as she giggled and brushed a lock of hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry about it for now. We will have plenty of time for that later.”

Tag list:

@kiaralee25

@fvckingeetar

[moonliteve]

My headcanons for the deadly alliance before being recruited by Damashi

cw suicide mention

some of these r inspired by my friends' hcs ily cicada and leonarnd!!! <33

SHANG TSUNG

born in an impoverished village near the seaside

his mother had him at a pretty young age

she wasn't the best nor the most loving but she did care about him, she tried to be the best for him even though it was really difficult to do so on her own

mama shang had to teach him basic survival skills

however she committed suicide when he was around 16-17

shang wasn't left with much but in his late teenage years he had gained an interest in alchemy along with some biology

sold what he had to get his caravan, he knew he wouldn't be able to survive if he stayed in one place

at first he did try to plan out an honest living but he realized that he could just. cheat and lie? so he came up with the whole hack salesman thing

"a living? it is barely survival" so what if it doesn't work. so what if he kills a few people. as long as he's getting by

he stays in his caravan a lot and doesn't go outside unless he absolutely has to (eg to gather ingredients n stuff). the inside is a complete mess, it's not like he doesn't want to clean it he just doesn't see the point if everything is just going to revert to a mess once again

he does not care if he's gonna die tomorrow and doesn't care for any consequences

and of course he longs for more but in the conditions he's in right now? don't even think about it

until damashi steps in and offers him a chance

QUAN CHI

born in the mines to parents who didn't want him, was a complete accident

his father died in a mining accident shortly after he turned 5

grew up to resent the world since his mother almost didn't care at all and barely treated him like her son

started working w/ the rest of the miners around 13

autistic + really awkward + no confidence at all

barely interacted with anyone else, not like he wanted to anyways

always just went about doing his job everyday even though it fucking sucks

the others always thought he was an odd one since he almost never talks and just stares and observes a lot

resulted in him always being picked on and nobody really put a stop to it until it gets out of hand

outside of work he would rather spend his time alone

killed his mom when he was around 17. He thought about taking the easy way out and just bash her head in or smth at first but he didn't want to raise any suspicion since ppl knew about the mutual disdain him and his mother had for each other

eventually ended up poisoning her

that was when he first piqued damashi's interest, he doesn't approach him yet though as he wants to observe him more

around the same time he discovered he had an aptitude for magic and had been practicing it in his own time in secret, he couldn't do any crazy stuff yet though

possibly inherited from his father? maybe he was some kind of mage who was thrown into the mines because of some hard labor sentence

and liu kang let him keep this power as he wished for him to use it to aid the slave revolt

when he first heard about his fellow miners planning a revolt he didn't think much of it. he didn't want to have anything to do with them anyways

had he actually had a good relationship with the others he might've had considered helping, but as time passed he decided to snitch. not only to raise his station but also out of spite for how he was treated

late at night the same group of ppl tried to kill him a few days after he ratted them out, although he was strong and had a bit of magic to defend himself he was overpowered until damashi intervened and saved him

he made a complete mess out of the others, blood everywhere

it terrified quan chi at first. he had never seen such power before and he was almost certain he was next before damashi offered him his aid and power

he was hesitant to trust this stranger at first but having seen what he could do it was impossible to refuse

and that's how the alliance came to be :) tysm for reading!

[pa-pa-plasma]

redditors are so fucking weird, sometimes they don't even know what hill they're dying on all they know is that they're gonna die on it for sure

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[gerlionrise]

A Game Within the Game P2

001 x reader Synopsis: the final game: you made a mistake, yet lived. Saved by unseen power, bound by trust—and a dangerous obsession. This is part 2. Part 1 is here.

Part 3 is posted!

The room was filled with an ominous tension, the kind that could crush even the strongest will. Forty-five players remained, each on the precipice of life and death. The rules for the final game hadn't been revealed yet, but the silence among the contestants was deafening. 

You and 001 lingered near the edge of the group, a pocket of quiet amidst the chaos. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened for a moment as they landed on you.  

“You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice low, almost gentle.  

You looked up at him, hesitant. “I just... I don’t want you to die in this game.”  

His expression froze for a second, a flicker of surprise passing through his composed demeanor. For all his usual calm and cryptic nature, this caught him off guard. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. “You’re worried about me?”  

Your nod was small but sincere. The vulnerability in your gaze pulled something deep from him, something raw and buried. His lips twitched into the faintest smile, an expression both genuine and unsettling.  

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, his tone steady but carrying an unspoken weight, “Can I ask you something?” he continued. His voice soft, almost tender, but carrying a weight that made your chest tighten.  

You turned to him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “What is it?”  

His eyes searched yours, as though trying to unearth an answer before you even spoke. He hesitated, “If it came down to it, would you choose me?”  

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” you asked, brows furrowing.  

“I mean,” he said, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you, “would you stand by me? No matter what happens. No matter what I say or do. Would you be on my side?”  

The intensity in his gaze was almost suffocating, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond.  

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I mean, I trust you, but—”  

He interrupted, his hand gently brushing against your arm. “That’s all I need,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Your trust. Promise me you’ll stay by my side. No matter what.”  

You hesitated but nodded, the sincerity in his voice stirring something in you. “Okay. I promise.”  

His smile widened, and for the first time, there was a softness in his expression that felt almost vulnerable. Then, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek.  

Your breath caught as his lips lingered for just a moment longer than necessary. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, dark and unwavering.  

“I’m doing everything to protect you,” he murmured, his voice low and firm

Before you could respond, the announcement for the next game echoed through the room, and 001 straightened, his expression hardening once more. “Stay close to me. No matter what happens, stay by my side,”  he finally added.

The guards, faceless and foreboding, moved with military precision, herding the remaining forty-five players into the arena. The rules were cruelly simple: reach the end of the trial before the timer ran out, or die.  

You clung to 001’s side as chaos erupted around you. Players shoved and scrambled, each desperate to survive. The obstacles were brutal—slippery platforms, swinging pendulums, sudden mechanical traps. You focused on 001, his calm presence grounding you in the storm.  

But then, it happened.  

You misstepped, slipping on a platform. The loud clang of the mistake echoed in your ears as the guards turned, their guns trained directly on you. Time seemed to freeze. You saw the cold gleam of their weapons, the faceless masks of the guards, and you knew this was it.  

“No!” you shouted instinctively, bracing for the inevitable.  

But the shot never came.  

Instead, a burst of gunfire erupted—not at you, but at the other players. One by one, they fell, their screams cutting through the air. Blood pooled across the platform as the guards methodically eliminated everyone else. The chaos lasted only seconds, but when it ended, the silence was deafening.  

You stood alone, surrounded by bodies. The realization hit you like a physical blow—forty-five players had entered this game, and now only you and the other one remained.  

001 approached you slowly, his expression unreadable. His hands were in his pockets, his stride casual, as though this massacre was nothing more than a planned inevitability.  

“W-what just happened?” you stammered, your voice shaking. “Why didn’t they... why am I...?”  

He stopped in front of you, his towering presence both comforting and terrifying. His gaze was steady, piercing, as if he were looking straight through you. Then, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with surprising tenderness.  

“I told you,” he said softly, his tone almost soothing. “I won’t let you die.”  

Your breath hitched as the weight of his words sank in. “What... what did you do?”  

001’s smile was faint, more of a smirk than anything warm. “I did what was necessary.”  

He leaned closer, his voice a low murmur. “You trust me, don’t you?”  

Your head swam with questions, fear, and disbelief. But when you met his gaze, there was something hypnotic about it—a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. You nodded, almost against your will.  

“Good,” he said, his smile widening. He straightened, his posture commanding now. His lips parted to speak again—  

But a gunshot cracked through the air.  

Pain exploded in your side, your knees buckling beneath you as the world seemed to tilt. 001’s arms were around you in an instant, catching your weight before you could hit the ground. His eyes were wide, raw with a mixture of shock and rage.

Blood seeped between his fingers as he held you tightly, his grip almost bruising in its desperation. His gaze shot up, locking onto the figure across the arena. 011 stood there, gun still raised, her posture tense but defiant.  

“You had a command - not to shoot this player,” 001’s voice was a growl now, deep and dangerous, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. The guards nearby froze, unsure whether to intervene or await orders.  

011 didn’t flinch. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to do,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt.

The words barely registered to 001. His focus was on you—your shallow breaths, the crimson spreading across your clothes.

Your vision blurred, but you managed to meet his eyes. They were burning—wild, unhinged, and utterly fixated on you.   __ Tag: @r3va-dwme If you want to be tagged in the next part - let me know in the comments!

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[joaniscruzing]

reuniting with jinx <3

everyone... that was quite the rollercoaster. but, i choose to believe that jinx is alive. i'm not ready to let go of arcane for a good while, and I'll do my best to upload fics more often, especially with the holiday breaks coming up too, so reel in whatever arcane requests you have! i write for vi, caitlyn, and jinx. i do take smut requests for these characters too if you guys would like to request some...

obviously though, jinx wouldn't leave without finding her amazing gf though... right??

summary: jinx surprises you while you're grieving, and you both escape and go elsewhere.

warnings: angst at the beginning, season 2 act 3 spoilers, kissing, emotional, lots and lots of fluff, I PROMISED A HAPPY ENDING AND DELIVERED

you couldn't believe it. your whole body crumbled to the ground as vi told you the devastating news.

"I'll tell you one thing," vi tried to quip, a small smile on her face, "she went out with a bang."

vi explained that she heard an explosion sound when jinx fell down the vent, and how she guessed she had set off one more bomb. you take vi close to you, hugging her tightly.

"she really did love you, you know." vi admitted, "i think she's just had a lot come her way. and i can't say I'm the most innocent in that realm myself."

you left vi to continue staring at the fireplace, about to leave and go to jinx's workshop, hoping to take a few things to remember her by. you see caitlyn looking at the vent diagram, studying it closely. how could she possibly studying the place where your beloved girlfriend died? you knew that caitlyn had grown to not hate jinx anymore, so you decided to just leave it at that.

after leaving the kiramann mansion, you traversed back to zaun, thoughts racing through your head. had you not done enough? loved her enough? given her a reason to live? you wanted to scream as loudly as you could, and let whatever you were feeling out.

you finally made it to where jinx had her things, and you took a deep breath before entering. this was it.

the once lit-up place was darker and worn-out in her eyes. the once neon, bright-colored place seemed to be dark and empty now. like you without jinx. a tear rolled down your face as you picked up small tools and things, even parts of a flower she was making for you out of scraps. you sat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make sense in your head of what you should do next.

"did you really think i was gone, hun?" jinx questions, right behind you. your entire body leaps at the sound of her voice. it can't be.

"jinx?" you ask, shooting your head up and turning around.

"did you really think i was gonna die that easily? now stop moping. we have to get on the hot air balloon."

shocked, you hug jinx quickly before shoving one thing you collected in your pocket. you both start running. hand in hand, you make a beeline in order to get on the next hot air balloon.

"you know what i realized? things aren't so great here, so why don't i just go somewhere else to do my thing? but, i knew i couldn't leave without you." jinx explains while running.

"how did you even get out?" is the only thing you manage to say.

"my shimmer, silly! i got the hell out and escaped through the air vents."

"and how did you get back to zaun?"

"simple hacking and tweaking of the hexgates. nothing special."

you both finally make it onto the airship, jinx holding your hand as you get on so you don't fall. she closes the door behind you.

"so. this is it. any last wishes before we leave forever?"

"my biggest one has been granted," you answer before pulling in jinx for a sweet kiss. you had missed her, as you hadn't seen her for a week or two with everything going on. jinx pulls away, explaining that you two had to go.

"you know, i've always wanted to drive one of these," jinx admits, steering the ship, "i have since i was very young." you notice a new sense of peace in her eyes as she drives the ship. she doesn't seem so... tortured anymore. in fact, she seems free of any past issues.

her newly cut hair blows in the wind, as you go up behind her and hug her waist, your head resting on her shoulder. no matter what the future held, you knew you were going to be happy. as long as jinx was there, you would be at peace.

"i love you," jinx says softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rest on top of yours.

"i love you too."

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde(here!), Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): The relationship is kinda toxic because it's Idia and I have to be realistic - but it gets better as you read. Just know that there are themes of miscommunication, self-sabotage, self-neglect, and insecurity in both Idia and the MC. I gave him some character growth at least and some maturation to the character. Note: All Ignihyde has is Idia so I gave his piece some extra love(super long. Like, this isn't even considered a headcannon set anymore. I really went overboard, I'm so sorry). Not proofread for grammar since I'm a bit lazy right now. Also, I haven't finished his chapter in game because I'm too weak (seriously wtf is up with these fights). I know the plot mostly but forgive me if there's an inaccuracy in a reference

Idia had it made during his youth - and deep down he knows it despite all his complaining. He knows that he won the introvert lottery. For three years he was able to live in a reclusive dorm room with no expectations beyond showing up to class (via a tablet of all things) and doing his work. Sure, he had to return home at some point and deal with that hot mess...but it was a displaced problem. One to be dealt with whenever. As a full-time 'student' he had junk food readily available, his brother down the hall, all the games and tech he needed, and somehow managed to land himself a loving partner despite his quirks.

The Ramshackle prefect - someone he initially wanted nothing to do with. Chaos seemed to follow their every move and Idia wanted no part of it. He never expected to come within a twenty-foot radius of them without force.

For the record, force indeed was used. Unfortunately they had a nasty habit of being nosy. Very 'main character complex' of them, if you ask him.

Yet it worked in his favor. Their stubbornness and intrusive ways wormed a place in his stone-cold heart. It fueled his ego much to everyone's chagrin. Out of everyone - princes, busy bodies, future doctors and the literal fish mafia - you picked him. The noob cursed to lose all his 50/50s and rot in bluelight. Idia seriously questions your tastes, but hey! He beat the normies and that's all he cares about.

Well, at least that's how he phrases it. Underneath that god-tier ego is an inferiority complex that he tries to keep down for your benefit. Something about your mood dipping by 20% when he talks trash? He'd need Ortho to run another test on that. Just to be safe.

Unfortunately, he still can't reign it in all the way. Victories can be temporary and who's he to say that your relationship isn't a one-shot story? Nothing worthwhile is ever that simple. Good games always get sequels...so the question lingers, will he still be a main character in yours?

When Idia graduates, he fully expects for you to walk out of his life. He returns to S.T.Y.X and leaves NRC to fulfill his role back home. You have no reason to care about him when he's no longer nearby. Life isn't like an isekai manga. You won't wait for him - no, you'll get a taste for how life is without him and indulge. Slowly you'll stop texting him, calling him, playing games with him - well, he'll do it first! He refuses to be the second male lead that gets dumped when you finally find your prince. That's for chumps.

He'd rather you just up and leave this world! At least then he wouldn't be in this pitiful situation...but he's seen that crow's shitty work ethic. You're stuck.

Idia's scared to say the least. One could say that his self sabotage was in action before your relationship even began. Old habits die hard, and no one could stop his spiral. Not even Ortho. Idia left his little brother behind as well. The boy sent him off with a smile, promising to take good care of you in his big brother's stead. After all, you both were in the same year.

It's not surprising that he reverts to his old ways. A hard battle is even more difficult to win when you don't have the motivation to fight it in the first place. Idia loses his drive...and in turn his already negative outlook grows worse.

Needless to say, Idia ... neglects you.

Your relationship has always been more of an 80:20 than a 50:50 - with him taking more than he ever gave. You always set aside time and made sure he was comfortable. You respected his anxieties and dealt with his temper on more than one occasion. His jealousy. You indulged his hobbies, always tried to include him in on activities with your friends (even though he rarely ever accepted), wore your heart on your sleeve and always took the lead. You were always too good to be true.

Two years. Two years with him at S.T.Y.X and you at NRC. Not a day passed where you did not text him or call. Not a week passed where you did not video-chat or play a game with him. You made time. You checked in. Told him stories about your life an friends. Ortho often would send him recordings and clips as well. During vacations you'd make plans to see him and always invited him to come to campus for events. Even though he never accepted, you still always offered. Throughout it all he kept you at a distance, yet unable to fully let you go at the same time. He needed you to do it. He needed his inner thoughts to shut up and to have someone else to blame.

You. You. You. When would you stop? Why weren't you tired of him yet? On a good day he can be frustrating, so how were you not mad when he was physically trying to make you hate him? Were you waiting until graduation to drop the bomb on him that you'd leave for good? On another's arm or back to your world?

Imagine his surprise when neither happened. On the dawn after Ortho's graduation ceremony, Idia came out of his cave to greet him at the S.T.Y.X entrance. He would no longer be as lonely, and perhaps without Ortho around, you'd finally put distance between yourself and the Shroud family. All would be as it should.

He did not expect to see you at the gate as well. Ortho flew up to him with a bright grin and twirl in the air - babbling on and on about how he arranged for you to come work as a research assistant in the lab. After all, you had an extensive knowledge of blot as well as field experience. It was a win-win situation for the company and your relationship! You could now be a happy family! Isn't that just amazing?

"It was extremally difficult to keep this a surprise!...Brother?" Ortho halts mid-rant, his receptors going haywire, "Brother, your heartrate has increased and your temperature is dropping below stable levels. You must regulate your breathing pattern!"

White noise rang like television static in Idia's eardrum. He watched you thank one of the guards while handing off your suitcase. His pulse increased and mind went under water. How long had it been since you were together longterm? You looked different. More mature. Meanwhile he was still the same - physically and emotionally. Still the pasty shut-in with dark eyebags and energy drinks running through his veins instead of blood. He wasn't used to seeing you in person. How should he react? Should he hug you? Do you want him to? That's weird. He hasn't held you in a while - yeah, it would be creepy. Does he even deserve to? What made you want to work here anyways?! You could have gone anywhere. ANYWHERE. - Shit. You're looking this way. What should he do?! aHH! You're walking over!

He does what he knows best. Shuts down. You receive a disgraceful greeting. No affection. Not even a smile.

Idia's brow furrows at your approach and he buries his hands deep into the pockets of his lab-coat. When you lean in to kiss his cheek, he catches you by the forearms and holds you in place. "Since when were you going to work here? You do remember what S.T.Y.X is in charge of, right? Once you're in, there's no going back. Are you a masochist or something?" Ah. There goes the heartfelt reunion. Being home did bring out a more harsh and cut-throat side of him after all.

Despite his poor treatment, you don't react upset. Now the relationship has now become something of a 90 : 10. He knows you have no reason to come here other than for Ortho and himself. You really are an Otome protagonist, jeez. Willing to do all that for him? Giving up your future and friends just to be at his side...dammit. Don't give him hopes! Don't undo all the work he's put in to survive without you! Stop welcoming misfortune for his sake! You're stupid. Stupidstupidstupid .... man he loves that stupidity. Gods he missed it.

Shit. Not even an hour in and he's reverting.

You don't realize it but you're heading straight for a bad ending. He does though. He's read the guides and played more visual novels than he can count. As a pro, he needs to steer you off this villainy ending and towards the true route.

After all ... what was that one saying? Heroes will sacrifice you for the world, while Villans will sacrifice the world for you? He heard it from some normie bookworm...but it seems fitting right now.

Idia's no hero. He'll destroy his world if it means you get to be happy. Not that he had much of one to begin with. You...gave him a life beyond fiction while all he's offered is a curse. Literally and figuratively. Its time he returned what he so greedily stole. He'll make you move on through force.

The months are slow and difficult. Despite being nearby, Idia only ever seeks you out for work-related reasons. Even then he is very cold and dismissive . He also does not turn you away when you take the initiative. Just like old times, you linger around his room and prod him for attention. He wants you to leave, but also doesn't want to be cruel. So, he maintains this impassive position and lets you do whatever you please. Yet the situation is scarily similar to how you both were at NRC. Except instead of using his past as an excuse, he now uses your work dynamic to enable his noncommittal ways.

There really is only so much one person can take. After Idia left NRC, you pinned his switch in behavior on the lifestyle change and distance separating you both. You knew Idia would be someone you had to work hard for when you started to date, and so the situation was one you viewed as an obstacle to overcome. The solution was simple - you would go to S.T.Y.X and prove to him that you were willing to make it work. Without the physical distance, you hoped that he would let you in again. That you wouldn't have to hear reassurances from his brother anymore, and instead hear his feelings from his own mouth instead. Then you both could work out the details together in time. Seeing him reject you at first was discouraging, but you did not let it rest there. Perhaps he needed time and to get used to your presence in his home. After all, these were new waters. You would be patient. You would prove yourself capable.

Life becomes a time capsule. As the days went by, a bitter feeling grew in your stomach. Why wouldn't he laugh? Why wouldn't he look in your eyes anymore? Why is he retreating even further? What were you doing wrong? How could you fix it? Is it you? Your performance in the lab is outstanding according to your supervisors, and your work friends seem to find you agreeable enough. Can't he see that you've adjusted well and are happy here? There's nothing to worry about. How else can you prove yourself?

These thoughts plague your mind to an extend that Ortho felt the need to preform psychiatric evaluation. You dismissed his concerns with a long list of things about your new home that make you happy - including him. It pacifies his panic and somehow mitigates your own as well.

Until one fateful day, when you decided to take your lunch early and overheard a conversation between two senior S.T.Y.X employees

"Isn't the boss' partner kind of pitiful?" One technician spoke in a hush whisper, taking a bite from her salad, "He doesn't give them the time of day. I can't believe they've stuck around this long. Screw the job, I would have been out after the first week," "Shhh! Quit gossiping, it's bad. Especially about the one who pays our bills," The other scolds. "I know....but isn't it just sad. They're clearly being taken advantage of. I can't help but feel sorry" "It's not just you...to tell the truth, I had no clue Director Idia had a partner up until recently. If anything, I thought he disliked Assistant MC and kept them around for Director Ortho's sake. Imagine my shock..." They both snicker at the notion. "Yeah. I give them a few more months...maybe a year. Despite being smart in the lab, they clearly can't read the room:

It was the last straw. Like ice water being dunked over your head after a hot shower. The lunch pale in your grasp suddenly felt like it weighed ten times heavier, and a cold sweat dripped down your back. They were right. He didn't want you here. It was time to move on or else you'll just be living out an endless loop. Nothing has changed since your youth aside from the location. No matter how long you wait, no matter how much effort and time you offer ... the relationship is doomed to fail. You gave him everything...and it was time to stop waiting. To stop expecting and hoping. Time to accept reality.

Your lunch goes discarded in a nearby bin and your shift abandoned. You would not work another second for S.T.Y.X despite the facility not being the source of your anguish. Your shoes clack loudly against the tile flooring as you speed-walk to Idia's office, where he was lazily reviewing data on a recent experiment. His phone set off to the side with some automated gatcha daily playing.

You use your 'special' pass (curtesy of ortho) to get in. The metal door swings out as you march inside and turn off his screen without asking.

"H-h'-hey! What are you-" He shrieks and turns in his chair. "We need to talk" "Can't it wait until later? I'm busy working, if you can't tell" "No" Your tone is demanding. Definite. You all but yank the badge from around your neck and drop it in his lap. In that motion, he knew. Your eyes scrunch tight and teeth grind together. He was prepared for this. For you to lash out and yell at him for your suffering. Make him the bad guy in your story and finally beat the game for good. Not for you to deflate. Not for the glassy, disappointed stain on your eyes. Or the shallow breaths as you calm yourself - not letting your emotions frighten him like a spooked cat. "I'm quitting," "S.T.Y.X? You know you can't just quit. There's a process," He refutes, lazily pushing his chair back with an anxious fidget. "Not just S.T.Y.X...I'm quitting us. I can't do this anymore," "Oh. Alright. Let me get the paperwork," "Alright?" You whisper, gaping at him "...just alright? That's all you have to say to me? Not even 'why' ?" He pauses typing on a holographic keyboard, cocking an eyebrow at the question. "What? You want me to beg you to stay or something like that? We're not in an anime," His words die out at the end, and had it not been for your disbelief you would have caught the note of sadness in them, "you want to go? Then go. I warned you about this place" "No...you warned me about the facility. It's not the facility I have a problem with. I actually like it here" "So it's me then, huh? I warned you about that too," He grumbles and continues to type, "I'm not whatever it is that you saw in me. It's your fault for sticking it out this long. I knew this was how it would end from the start" A silence follows aside from the occasional noise from his computer. That's it. The nail in the coffin. You finally realized the truth. He was no good for you. He couldn't be 'fixed'. With an approving chime, he finally has all the departure paperwork pulled up for you to sign. "Alright. Sign these and I'll get you an escort," He holds out a tablet in pen without looking from his computer. You don't take it. "Hello? I said - " he turns to face you, irritated "....here" Silent tears stream down your cheeks and pool at the tip of your chin, dripping to the tile below. Wide eyes lock in his general direction. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides, as if your mind was thousands of miles away. His heart breaks. "You never even gave us a chance, did you?" He says nothing. "It wasn't about 'making it work' for you. It was always a matter of 'how long'. You've been waiting for me to leave you, all this time?" It wasn't a question. "All this time, I've been trying to prove myself. I've been thinking that I did something wrong...that I needed to be better" the word stings your tongue and seems to strike him, " but I was never even close to enough" we were never enough

With languid movements, you take the pen from him and sign the papers. You would not hide your sadness. Your grief. Your pain for a relationship that was never actually one. For a battle that only had one party fighting.

He lets you go, the metal door swinging shut and rattling him to his core. Idia's hands shake as he tries to return to his work. They tremble over the holographic keyboard, making his blue nails look like moving neon streaks in the air.

He had always thought you ere just being kind. That your self-sacrificing nature was natural, and that someone else was more deserving of it. He failed to consider the possibility that all the things you did...you did for him alone. You did out of the same anxieties and fears he felt.

In a way, you both were at fault. He led himself down a self-fulfilling prophecy - letting his anxieties and what-ifs become reality. And you? You thought everything could be fixed with time. With sacrifice. That eventually he would grow. You both were plants, one overwatered and the other left parched in the sun.

He did get one thing right. This was defiantly a bad end. Just not in the way he originally believed...

Somehow, life becomes worse than before you arrived at S.T.Y.X. At least when you were around, people did see him more out of his office or room. Seeing him revert to his previous ways without so much as an inkling of sadness for losing you....yeah, it did not look good. Worse than people not even knowing you were his partner at first. After your departure, rumors began to spread that you had finally snapped. The pity felt for you morphed into judgement towards his character. Others saw him as a heartless recluse, and the pity was extended to Ortho of all things. If Idia could toss out a loyal partner of years, what about the little robot? Perhaps despite all the gossip, the others at S.T.Y.X did not fully believe that he would let you leave so easily. That he wasn't as detached as the Shroud name dictates.

Little do they know that he's become a shadow of his former self. He can't even act self-depreciative. Pleasantries don't hit like they used to. Having you at a distance...well, was still considered as being with you. Now that you're never coming back, it's harder. Everything reminds him of you. Your favorite snacks are still stocked in the cafeteria, and there are blankets in his room that still have your scent. Occasionally a file will pop up with your work in it while he's doing reviews...and then there's Ortho. When you left, he was crushed. He pestered Idia for days - the security cameras giving him full knowledge of what happened. Yet no matter what the robot said about the situation, Idia didn't want to hear it. Eventually he took away Ortho's access data to his personal spaces.

That didn't stop the bot from talking through the door and spamming his brother's inboxes. Despite cutting off contact with his big brother, you still spoke to Ortho regularly. He refused to let his big brother lose all connection to you, and updated him on your well-being. Regardless of what Idia said, hearing about you made a difference. At first it increases his anxiety and drops his mood...but every time, like a scheduled delay, his serotonin levels will spike. Be it from a clip of your voice, a picture, or even just the mention of your name.

"Brother! I just finished a call with MC. Today they decided to adopt a cat! Would you like to see a picture?" His computer beeps with an incoming missive. Idia clicks it, and the screen displays a photo of you with a small white kitten in your arms. "They've decided to name it Grimm Jr. From what I heard, the predecessor was not pleased to be 'replaced,' as he calls it" Ortho laughs from the other side of the door, but Idia is too focused on the image on his screen. The curve in your smile and the way you gently cradle the kitten. You seem...happy. Much better than how he is doing. He fails to hear the door beep, granting access, neither the bot fly up next to him to look at the picture. "Big brother, why don't you apologize to MC? They would listen," Idia startles, clutching his chest as his hair flairs cherry red for a brief moment. He swivels in his chair and closes the image quickly. "I'm not apologizing for nothing. It's not like I miss them or anything. My life's great without having a normie relationship to manage" "Your body language suggests that you are lying" Ortho states, his eyes squinting cheekily. Idia hunches over, glaring at his keyboard and fiddling with his sleeves, "It's not like they'd want to see me anyways. I blew it. Only an idiot would forgive what I did," "That's not true! MC loves you!" Idia glares at him from the corner of his eye, "Yeah? They look pretty happy without me. They were miserable here" "Because you purposefully made them miserable! You are very smart brother, but even I understand emotions better than you and I am an artificial lifeform!" "Then what should I do, Ortho? Go beg them to take me back like some cringe sitcom?!" "Yes!" Idia blanches at the thought, but doesn't entirely dismiss it. Ortho glares holes into his head, causing Idia to shrink into his chair. "You are always afraid, brother. You lost them to your fears once...do you want to regret that? Are you really satisfied with pictures and stories? Why deny yourself wonderful things! We are not trapped anymore!"

Ortho leaves him with one piece of information - an apartment address. He sends it to all of Idia's emails and even somehow makes it the background of his tablet. He can't change it or take it off.

He stares at it long and hard. Searches the place up and even uses virtual reality to scope out the building. While perhaps a bit creepy...he hacks the security cameras and watches feed of you coming and going over the past moths. Some days you look perfectly well, and others you look worse for wear. If he went...would you even want to see him? Would you let him in? Kick him out? Is he willing to even try? What if you already moved on...no, Ortho wouldn't set him up for that if he knew you were happy with someone else.

Idia leaves S.T.Y.X for the first time in months. His request for leave shocks other employees. Yet he's gone the moment it's approved, afraid that he'll lose his edge if he thinks too long on it.

He finds himself at the door of a middle-class apartment in the Kingdom of Roses. Second floor, third door to the left, just like he memorized. He knows its yours from the ribbons tied on the doorknob, themed after one of your favorite animes. One he introduced to you...

In his hands is a small box of candies - a peace offering, just in case you want to kill him on sight.

His boney knuckles wrap around the doorknocker and thwack it three times. Sweat pools in his palms and he jolts away. The seconds like hours as his painted nails dig crescents into his palms. The door opens. "Hi, how can I -" You pause mid-sentence, your mouth going dry. Grimm Jr. snuggled in one of your arms while the other holds the door open, "I-idia?" "T-that's my name," He grimaces, looking anywhere but at you. "What are you doing here?" His tongue feels heavy and the tips of his hair fade to a pale orange. He studders and fumbles with the box of candies, holding them out to you with a grimace. "I wanted to see you...urk. I hope that's not weird! Can ... I come in?" You eye the box in thought, before reaching out to take it and opening the door further. It was a start.

You hear him out - through the stuttering and the self-depreciative comments that he hastily retracts. This isn't just about him. It's about you and everything else in-between. Shockingly enough, you agree to give him a second chance. It wasn't entirely his fault after all ... and you did still love him. Although now there are ground rules. You would not be returning to S.T.Y.X. You've finally created a stable home for yourself and have a life in this new city. You have a career, friends, and a life that doesn't include him. You need the individuality. You would no longer try to morph yourself for him or be placid. If he wanted to spend time with you, he would have to leave S.T.Y.X and come stay at your apartment. You would no longer be the one always reaching out, he would have to start showing initiative and making time for you. You would see how things progress from that point. He was not a child, and you would not beg for basic needs to be met anymore. Words would not be enough, you need actions. It was time for 50 : 50.

Weirdly enough, he agrees to all your rules without a single complaint. Not a normie comment or slang filled statement leaves his lips. He's still that nerdy dork you fell in love with at heart, but these 'normie' things? Well, Idia's accepted that he wants those things. As much as it is difficult for him to admit, they only grossed him out so much before because he always believed they were unattainable

He's true to his word. He calls you every day, first thing when he wakes up (in the late afternoon. He still is a hermit at heart). At first it made him anxious, and he'd hover over the contact for fifteen minutes before dialing. Yet it soon became easy, with his heart only beating fast from happiness. He takes the weekends off and comes to spend them at your apartments. Sometimes he brings Ortho and it becomes a sleepover with games - and at some point you start inviting your other heartslabyul friends from back in the day too. Eventually you do come around the compound again. It's awkward to say the least, considering how you left. Yet at the same time, it's a breath of fresh air. The others are shocked to see him out of his office, and he eats IN THE CAFETERIA. Woah. He calls you by your name and not 'assistant' when in public. Homie scares some people. That's what he does. He gives you a special watch for your anniversary. It's paired with on he has and solar powered, so you can contact him at any time. As a natural born worry-wart, he can't help but worry for your safety. Since watching the appartment CCTV is 'creepy,' he just asks that you wear the watch if you're going out anywhere. It won't die and with the click of a button he'll be alerted. In exchange, you can use it to contact him whenever you want. He'll always get back instantly since it might be an emergency. The watch is also directly linked to Ortho's system, so you can contact him as well. Who needs Cortana when you have Ortho?

For the first time, Idia feels secure in a relationship. He can't count Ortho since the boy is technically his creation. Ortho would always be there...and now? Idia's confident you will too.

Does that mean you should get married? Isn't that the next step in all this?

Well....shit (pleasant connotation)

He never would have tinkered with this idea before considering his 'family'. Who the hell in their right mind would marry a Shroud? A fool. Are you a fool? Maybe.

It's late evening on a Sunday night when you're both walking home together after hitting up a local diner for hearty eats. Wow. Look at him. On a date. So weird...pshh.

Idia walks at your side, forcing his pace to match yours. Not everyone is graced with his long stickman legs. His hands are buried deep in his hoodie and his posture is slightly slouched. Classic scary dog privilege for a nighttime walk - well, if his hair didn't scream valentine's day pink to the world. Although no one else has flaming hair other than the Shroud family, so he doubts anyone would interrupt.

You decide to take the long path home and through a nearby park. The night was still young for nightowls such as yourselves, and fresh air was always crisp at this hour.

Along that path you decide to stop at a cement bench by some vending machines and chill out for a bit. Despite having just ate, Idia gets you each a can of coffee.

He'd be leaving to go back to S.T.Y.X tomorrow. Like he does every Sunday. His gaze drifts to the watch on your wrist and thinks about adding some new features - maybe video chat? So he can see you throughout the day. He wonders what you'll be up to while he's stuck in the lab. Maybe you'll go shopping, or play a new game. Maybe you'll try out a new recipe or take Grimm Jr. out to play. He wishes he could see you during the week.

Ah. You're talking. He should probably tune in or you'll get mad at him. Why's it so hard to focus? He hasn't felt this uneasy in a while...

Why is he having these kinds of thoughts? It's weird.

"You okay? You seem a little spaced," You pull him from his thoughts, a concerned crease wrinkling your temple. "Eh. It's nothing. Just not looking forward to the week," he chuckles weakly. "I know that feeling. It's always a bummer when you dip. Not to sound clingy or anything" His golden hues spark for a moment, a pale pink dusting his cheeks as he whips his head to look at you.

"W-wait - really? I was just thinking the same thing...." "You were?" "Yeah. It's...kind of weird without you. Everything's emptier. Wow. That was pretty cringe. Sorry." He grimaces, internally screaming and knowing that this was going to replay when he tried to sleep later. You tilt your head at him, a slight frown on the cusp of your lip. Something tickles at his fingers and he looks down to see you lace your hand with his. "I miss you too," your words are soft. Genuine. He feels his neck grow hot, the pink glow radiating off him betraying him. Idia looks between your interlaced fingers and the drink in his hand. There...wouldn't ever be a 'right' time for this. Would there? You've waited long enough. He pulls his hand away and pops the soda tab off with deft hands.

"Hey..." he twiddles with the soda tab in his hands, "on a scale of 1-10, how are my odds of getting a yes?" "A 'yes' to what?" "To this, " he sighs through his nose, holding the tab out towards you with a shaking hand, "will you marry me?"

{A soda tab from canned coffee. Not the most charming offering, and it barely fits around your pinky finger. Yet, Idia's always been impulsive at his core. Had he not acted in the moment, he likely would have ran countless possibilities over and over in his mind. While not your forever ring, the tab will remain a sentimental piece}

{Idia is not a man with a keen eye fore jewelry - but he knows quality. Combine his eye for perfection with his craftsmanship and behold - a ring made from purified blot. The center gem is a piece of magestone in it's most refined state. The band is titanium and there are small sapphires along the molding. Since he would be wearing a matching band, Idia decided to keep the design simple. He prefers functionality over all. Yet he does want you to feel proud of his handiwork, so he includes vintage molding on your band only. He wears a smooth black band on his ring finger, and never removes it}

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

“Each of us, every single clone, is a one-man army. And yes, I am… I’m so proud of them. We protect the Galaxy, we die fighting for the Galaxy and its peoples. We are not made for peace times, Obi-Wan.”

The cynical part of Obi-Wan wants to ask why Cody is so steadfast in his belief when everywhere the clones go they’re confronted with people dismissing them, equating them to the droids they’re fighting.

He understands, though. Jedi are only welcome where people know about the help they can provide. The Order is looked down upon, the Jedi just as easily dismissed, more often than not when it comes to it.

And still. And still. The call to protect people is too strong to ignore. He doesn’t want to ignore the call. He can help so he does.

So yes, he understands Cody and his need to fight.

He watches as Cody self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, fingers not halting over the port, so— so used to its presence, as the silence reigns. Cody doesn’t try to further his explanations. He said his piece and that’s that.

Obi-Wan settles down on the floor in front of the weightlifting bench. And Cody.

He crosses his legs automatically, the armor he has to don if he wants to engage in the battles blessedly absent, here. His fingers find Cody’s other hand in his lap, tapping it lightly, glancing by the embedded screen in the armored boot proclaiming Cody as belonging to the 212th.

Commander Cody got his own Attack Battalion. Mace remains the immediate superior but the brass saw Cody’s merit. No Jedi can easily fill the role as war general and Cody is… too brilliant to not be in charge. He and Mace have been flattening the CIS, the GAR is only too happy to spread out their heavy hitters.

“He’s always giving them a chance to surrender first,” Cody had commented on Mace, pride and admiration shining from his whole body. “How he’s able to walk with balls like that is a mystery to me.”

Obi-Wan had politely choked on nothing.

Once Cody is looking at him, apologies in his eyes for being made for war, of war, Obi-Wan signs a simple question. “How would you know?”

Temper makes the scarred eyebrow rise and Obi-Wan continues, undeterred now that Cody’s attention isn’t on misplaced guilt.

“You know nothing but war. You’ve learnt nothing but war. You’ve,” Obi-Wan pauses to swallow the grief, “experienced nothing but war in your life. How would you know you’re not made for peace times when you haven’t even had the chance to live in them?”

A smile, half there and fleeing, cracks, warm brown eyes watch Obi-Wan’s hands. “In my darkest moments I’m not sure I’ll even see them.”

Obi-Wan is against false promises but hope has never left his life’s side and he’d like to share. “We work together and we end this war. We see as many of you and us on the other side as possible.”

“Sounds like an easy first step,” Cody laughs ruefully, and leans down, captures Obi-Wan’s unmasked face, blurred by the unknown, and holds their foreheads together for a long self-indulgent moment.

Obi-Wan ducks his head, mask and scars in place once more. “Is that something you wish? To see me?”

Cody shakes his head, shoulders tight. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”

No, you didn’t, Obi-Wan wants to tell him, I want you to see me.

Soon. Probably. As soon as Obi-Wan has removed the screws from his heart and their doubting pressure.

“I think I can help you,” Obi-Wan signs, bullheading through the burgeoning silence. “But I need your help for that.”

“What do you need,” Cody asks, all Commander now that he’s got a mission objective.

“I want to know how you can communicate neurally and who has access to that channel.” He’s been looking into it for months, always ending in front of a Kaminoan wall. He’s at his wits end and now, now, with Bail confirming Palpatine is shuffling credits to the CIS and it’s still only heresy where a court is concerned…

Kamino confirmed only authorized personnel has access to the comm links in the clones’ heads. What if those include the CIS?

Cody blinks in surprise. “General Windu has access to that information.”

Does he? Obi-Wan is beginning to doubt that fact. “Humor me.”

Shoulders go wide, straight, loose. “Protocol dictates that, in case of emergency in an engagement situation, a High General is able to deploy orders directly to a CC-class clone via the Force after initiating with the correct identification.”

The clones are password-locked. Obi-Wan tries very, very hard to keep his expression neutral. “I assume every Commander knows the identification?”

Cody starts to smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ready to playfully lecture Obi-Wan about confidentiality. Obi-Wan can see that, can feel the intention of Cody to do so. Before his eyes sharpen like the back-up blade in the boot holster. “Is there a leak?”

“Not that I’m sure of,” Obi-Wan hurries to sign. “Cody, please, what is the initialization sequence?”

Cody watches him, tracks his every move and twitch and stillness with keen eyes. Obi-Wan lets him, not able to keep a lid on the worry he’s feeling, the Force hushed in absolute and anticipation. “Every Commander knows those words. No one else does. A High General can request it of his Commander. That is what General Windu knows. A Commander takes the words to their grave if they have to.” A built-in failsafe, based on the clones’ loyalty to the Republic. “And the Jedi,” Cody adds with a soft smile. “Maybe we have been trained to follow you but you have proven yourself over and over again. The initialization is—“ Cody’s face twists into confusion as the Force starts— starts to shriek in warning. “Is…”

Shards of glass hurtle towards Obi-Wan, high-pitched tone piercing his eardrums, hack into his thoughts—

“Who are you?”

Obi-Wan hurries, pulls a hand up and projects “Cody, wake”.

.

Cody wakes, blinks. Shakes the cloudy remnants of a dream gone wrong off, as stuck on him, burnt into him as some details of it are.

He looks up when he notices the presence by the training salle entry, smiles up at Obi-Wan, feels his eyes go soft, relaxed.

Obi-Wan stares back at him, mask in place which ups the distant, rumbling intensity of his gaze like an incoming storm. “Thank you,” he signs, and Cody can see the tremors in his fingertips. Blue eyes flick up to the surveillance camera in the ceiling, go back to him.

Cody… remembers. Obi-Wan pushing him behind a destroyed tank during battle, one hand covering the helmet camera while the other had signed “need to talk, no eyes” in battle signs.

He looks to the door again but Obi-Wan is suddenly right in front of him, cradling his face so gently Cody can feel tears prick at his eyes, forehead carefully, with no hesitation and too much meaning coming to rest against his.

[sparklingblu]

Limerence (ft. ILLIT Minju)

I don't even know what to call this. Somewhat of a fluff but not really a fluff either. Something that just pops into my mind.

"So he asked 'Is it better to speak or die?' "

"That's the stupidest story I have ever heard"

Minju leaves no chance for you to savour that feeling that comes after quoting something particularly clever. Or she's just being a jerk as usual.

"You are just anti-romantic"

You protest though you know she will have thought of a retort before you finish.

"There's nothing romantic about this story"

"It's a love story for christ's sake"

"Where's the 'love' ?"

You slump back in your chair, defeated. Either she's too dumb to understand your point or you are just bad at telling stories. The latter's probably more likely.

The story's not an ordinary one in the first place. It involves a knight and a princess but it ends neither with a 'happily ever after' nor a bloodbath where they both rip their hearts out. There isn't even an ending.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

The last sentence on this paper of the dusty hard covered book which has turned yellow from the years it have endured. It's a mircale how it's still intact.

You mummur the question under your breath, trying to make sense of the words. But they are still nothing more than a jumbled mess in your mind.

The funny thing is, this is not your first time reading this story. You are actually too familiar with it. The setting, the characters, the way it almost seems to tell the secret you have carefully hidden; it doesn't make sense that you are still confused what this single question everything has lead up to mean. Still, you are here, no wiser than the first time you have read this tale.

In some time immemorial in an unknown kingdom lived a princess and a knight, each a good friend to another. Perhaps because of this closeness, the knight started to feel something more than companionship to the princess. Feelings that shouldn't exist given their scoial status. The princess knew it too though she ptetends to be oblivious. Nonetheless, the knight found himself unable to express his desires - torn between the fear of losing what he currently has and the turmoil of hiding himself. So one day, when he took his usual walk with the princess through the garden, he mustered up the courage to ask one single question.

"Is it better to speak or die?"

The End.

Anyone can guess at this point that the knight meant if it's better to put his feelings into words and sacrifice their friendship or die knowing that he will never have what he wants. You wish it's that simple.

You and Minju have been stuck in the same page for an hour now, still having no idea how to progress your assignment. The task was a paper on an in depth analysis on a tale of your choice. Now you regret not choosing 'The Tortoise & The Hare".

"Why do you choose this one anyway? There are like a million other better choices"

Minju says, gesturing at the endless shelves of books that surround you on all sides. Not millions but perhaps a thousand other choices you could have made in this rectangular bank of knowledge; the local library.

Somewhere distinct, you hear a bell chimes, signaling the arrival to the later hour of the night. You glance at your watch. It's already 9 pm. A cough reasonates from the counter near the entrance, emitted by none other than the librarian. The ghastly old woman seems to be signalling that we don't have much time left.

I don't have much time left.

Minju's translucent pupils are fixed on you, still waiting for your answer. You break out of the haze.

"Because it's.."

'Relatable'. The word is 'Relatable'. But she doesn't need to know that. Never.

"Interesting I guess"

You finish, not quite daring to meet her eyes. She might see the guilt of your dishonest words in them.

"Seriously? This is interesting? Next time you think something is interesting, feel free to ask my opinion"

"Not everyone have great taste"

You mean it to be a playful jab but her face distorts to something along the line of fury and hurt. And her lips part.

No. Please don't be mad.

Please.

"Jerk"

Her words put out the flames of fear threatening to rise in your chest. There. All good. She's not mad.

You let out a sigh of relief but quickly mask it as a half formed scoff. She can't know. So you waver her attention.

"Tell me then. What's your opinion on this story apart from it being hopelessly stupid"

Her lips stretch to a soft smile. You have put her back into her comfort zone.

"It's not about love like you think. It's about cowardice"

"Enlighten me"

She crosses her arms, the pose she always takes before her rosy lips spill out a waterfall of the most beautiful syllables. It also makes her look superior. The table, which is the only thing between you two seems like a brick wall now.

"The knight doesn't say 'I love you' or anything of that sort, does he? He's scared out of his wits so he decided to go for a safer alternative. That question. It literally says 'I'm a coward who can't even properly confess' "

Is she mocking you?

Probably not. She doesn't know. She will never know.

Still....

'Is it better to spek or die?'

A coward's attempt at love; complicated and imperfect. At least he has the courage to mutter those cowardly words.

"You are not wrong but can't it be that he's just scared of losing her?"

Yes. You are referring to yourself.

But she won't know.

"He already loses her after saying these words"

"You don't know that. You don't know what the pericess's answer was. She could have accepted him"

"You don't know that either"

Now she's fighting you with your own words.

"What would you have answered if you were the princess then?"

Is that an indirect confession? An attempt to ask her opinion without facing the shame that comes after rejection? You hope not.

"I don't know...I would probably ask him to speak in English"

"Not funny at all"

Your answer makes her raise her brows in disbelief as if saying - "I know I will never not be funny to you. You are too obsessed with me not to."

But that's impossible. She doesn't know.

Has she spoken these words aloud, you would happily agree with her. But that's just momentary courage. Your tongue would be tied to knots in a hearbeat if that ever happens.

That begs the question again.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

"Whatever" she says in exasperation. "I'm not lovey dovey enough for this"

"Seriously. Just tell me what you would have said"

There. You are pushing again, desperate for that answer even if it's not directed at you. You would cling to a tiny hope if it's ever a positive one.

"I don't know. Probably tell him to speak because I don't want anyone going suicidal mode because of me"

"He will still go suicidal if you reject him after he confess"

"Why are you asking me those? Were you in such a situation before?"

You surpress a chuckle that nearly slips your tongue.

What a fool you are Minju. You can't even spot the truth that's hidden in plain sight. The truth that has gone rusty and rotten because it has been locked up for so long. Still, it's not her fault.

You have hidden it so well.

She doesn't need to know.

"Yes"

You can't believe you say the word. It's as if someone has possessed you and put those words on your tongue.

"Poor you"

And just like that, it ends.

You have expected her to push you, given her curious nature. You want her to lend you the courage to say those words you have mummur countless times in your dreams. But she just leaves you hanging there like that. Cruel.

Can't blame her though.

She doesn't know.

Another cough pierces through the invisible viel that has seperated you two from the world outside.

9:25 pm.

5 minutes away until this tedious session of back and forth ends.

Why is it that you don't want it to end?

The papers in front of you are bare as they were an hour ago. The book still turned at the same page. The question that haunts you still lies there, imprinted in black.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

Neither. Because that's a stupid question just like Minju said. It's constructed to mess with your mind. You gotta stop dwelling on it.

"Anyway-"

Chimes

That sound. It can only mean one thing.

Minju pulls her phone out of her pocket, the glow of it illuminating her angelic feature as she turns it on. Not a moment sooner, her lips hold the prettiest of smiles.

And in all the wrong ways.

"Gotta go"

Her dismissal cuts through the tense air as she hurriedly put the papers back into her bag. Is she that desperate to get away from you?

"My boyfriend's waiting for me. We have a date tonight"

You are not angry. It would be wrong. Though it's only natural to envy the one who's living your fantasy. But the faults are not in our stars.

"Alright. Goodnight"

Minju's footsteps echo on the mahogany floor as she finally escapes the torturous session you have put her though, flying away to an embrace better than yours in every way.

But it's ok.

Because she doesn't know.

She gives a quick wave to the old librarian who does nothing to reciprocate the action. That hag doesn't know how lucky she is.

"Minju"

You call before the rest of her form disppears through these creaking doors. She turns on her heels, a stray strand of hair clinging like an unifinished piece of art to her forehead. The shadows cast by the moonlight does nothing to hide her.

"Yes?"

You breath.

And utter.

"Is it better to speak or die?"

___________________________________________

Took the famous question from the movie "Call me by your name". Though I alter the story. Thanks for reading this madness.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

This might be a hot take but I’m fully convinced that if Ponyboy got injured in the church fire and died in Johnny’s place, that Johnny would still die because he’d be the member of the gang that wouldn’t be able to handle it

I used to think it would be Darry or Soda- and sure, they’d be absolutely devastated. They’d never be the same. But the Curtis boys know loss, they lost both their parents at once and not only survived but bounced back in a relatively short period of time. Losing Pony would be worse and it would take them far longer to move past it, but Soda and Darry have each other and they would survive it.

Johnny though, Johnny couldn’t.

We know what Johnny and Pony mean to one another. Whether you read them as platonic or romantic or a secret third thing there is no denying they are each others person, unquestioningly and irrevocably. We see in the book how depressed Ponyboy is after Johnny’s death, delusional and then nearly catatonic with grief, and he has his brothers and the remainder of the gang watching over him like a hawk. Their support and presence is absolutely constant for a reason, even if Ponyboy’s suicide watch is largely subtextual and glossed over in a few short paragraphs.

Johnny doesn’t have brothers. He has the gang, that are family in all but blood, but Johnny has spent his life looking out for himself. He sleeps in the lot or couch surfs because no one else is going to find a spot for him, and because his own house isn’t safe. But Johnny is depressed. Ponyboy mentions how the greaser lifestyle and his parents’ warring is ‘killing Johnny’ rather than turning him cold and mean. Ponyboy also mentions that the gang is the only thing keeping Johnny from running away from Tulsa altogether, while Johnny literally voices his suicidal thoughts to Pony in the lot. Point is, Johnny’s mental state was already precarious before the events of the novel. Had he, Pony, and Dally all lived through the story Johnny would still struggle tremendously, probably even more than before. If Pony had died Johnny probably still would not have lived to the end of the book.

Johnny is incredibly protective of Ponyboy (even if Pony doesn’t realize it). Throughout the book we see him take charge whenever Ponyboy falls to pieces, comfort him when Ponyboy is feeling embarasssed after meeting Cherry, let Pony sleep on his legs even when Pony put them to sleep and they had to jump off a train. He was ready to run away with Pony no questions asked. He buys Pony a book and cigarettes when they’re on the run and don’t have a ton of money just to make the whole thing easier for Pony mentally. He literally stabs Bob to death for Pony. So imagine what would happen if Johnny went into that church with Pony and was unable to save him?  If they were in that inferno and he saw the beam crash down and helped Dallas drag Pony’s limp body out and it still wasn’t enough? What do you think happens to an already seriously depressed kid when his person- the one person who always understood him without him having to say a word, a boy who was so naive, yet so wise and so desperately kind- dies? What do you think happens when Johnny can’t save the one person he desperately wanted to protect?

It’s simple. Johnny pulls a Dally, and Johnny dies. And then Dally dies too, because he can’t live without Johnny (if it had JUST been Pony who died, Dallas would survive. Dallas cared about Pony- I firmly believe that, but Pony’s death would not affect Dally the same way Johnny’s did. It wouldn’t affect him any LESS but it would affect him DIFFERENTLY- and would not result in his suicide for a myriad of reasons that deserve a whole post of their own.)

But yeah. Had Pony died from the church fire I think Johnny would have died too, and The Outsiders would end with four dead kids instead of three. It is a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy, and no matter what variable is changed it will always be a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy.

[ultralightpoe]

Slim Pickens - Tyler Owens

Authors Note: Not me writing this smut on election day..... anyways enjoy! Cause I have no clue what happened to me.

Word Count: 5080

Warnings: SMUT, stranger tryna get laid and Tyler not having it.

Requests: OPEN

Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event

[Thank you for the gif @chrishemsworthsbitch ]

Enjoy!

“Guess I'll end this life alone

I am not dramatic

These are just the thoughts that pass right through me”

-

There was a simple saying that been passed down from generation to generation, and you knew it all too well. 

‘No use crying over spilt milk’. 

Your grandma used to say it whenever you had boy problems back in middle school and your mother took up the saying when you went on to middle school and in both of these stages in your life you hadn’t quite understood what they meant. 

Now, sitting cross legged on Tyler Owens hotel floor as he repeated those very words to you, you knew them all too well. And by the look of his smug smile in your direction as he got ready for the day you knew he knew his words struck a nerve. 

“Now don’t get cranky at me, sweetheart.” He warns, pointing at you as he kicks his boots closer to the bed so he can sit on the end of it to put them on. “I warned you he wouldn’t be worth it last night when you left.”

The ‘he’ in mention was some guy named Jake that you had matched with on Tinder last night, and who you had dumbly agreed to meet up with. It had been a long week of storm chasing and dealing with Tylers crappy music in the truck and you just wanted to relieve some pressure. 

“He quoted shakespeare.” You try to defend only for him to laugh at you. 

“You sleep with every guy that quotes shakespeare?”

“Guys who quote Shakespeare are hotter than guys who haven’t touched a book in their life!” You snap back. “And-”

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” He interrupts, shoving his feet into the boots with a small look in your direction. But you were too focused on staring at the floor from exhaustion. 

“Mkay Yoda.” You sigh and his hands fly up in the air from lack of belief. 

“Seriously?”

“And I mean he was hot.” You continue, falling back to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling as he finishes with the boots and moves to get his bag together. “Honestly he kind of reminded me of you. But then he had to talk. And he just kept ruining it.”

“How so?”

“He was all ‘You ever seen a jet, Sugar’? And can’t forget ‘There is almost nothing better than the high feeling of flying through the air….almost.’ And it was-” You finish off the sentence with a loud groan as you slap your forehead making him laugh. 

“Did he not know what you do for a living?”

“Oh, you mean chase storms and kill them? No. Why would he? That would involve him asking me a question.” You seethe before Tyler comes into view, standing over you with that smug smile you hated and loved so much. 

“Alright, come on Sugar. It’s time to go.”

“Tyler, I’m gonna die alone.” You groan, closing your eyes before covering your face. He is having none of it though, reaching down to grab at your forearms, hauling you up with an ease that makes your skin flush. His hands are warm on your skin and the way his thumbs circle your flesh has images of your nasty daydreams flashing through your mind. 

“Enough of that mopin’. We got storms to chase and I ain’t got time to tell you that you’re never gonna die alone.” 

“Cause you don’t believe it?”

“No, cause the chances of us dyin’ in a tornado together are far more likely.” He laughs, deep and throaty as he leans down to scoop you up by the waist, taking a second to slap at your back thigh before exiting the hotel. “Cate will also kill us if we’re late again.”

-

“All the douchebags in my phone

Play 'em like a slot machine

If they're winnin', I'm just losin'”

-

“Not to be that guy…” Tyler starts, his voice already filled with annoyance. “But is now the time to be checking your phone?”

His hands were tight on the wheel as the truck raced through the fields, efficiently tracking down the storm that had caught Cate’s eye. And while you normally took the passenger seat next to Tyler after fighting with Boone for it so that Cate could take her own ford with Javi, today she had taken the seat and you were in the back with Boone who was just as upset by losing his special spot next to Tyler. 

It had been a rough day, between realizing one of the cars were completely broken down in the hotel parking lot and Boone nearly breaking his pinkie while trying to fix it. Let’s just say the hood of the truck came down a little too fast. Not only that but you had gotten stuck in the bathroom of your room until Tyler had to come save you in your towel, treating you like you were plague victim number one ever since. 

But the best part of the day so far? The introduction to Scott loservains new team, conning poor victims one at a time. 

“Hey man, I’m tracking our filming.” Boone argues, already offended.

“I’m making sure Javi has the same stats as us.” Cate argues. 

“Not talking to either of you. I’m talking to little miss lovestruck in the back.” 

“Hey!” You snap, immediately closing your phone. “Mind your business Tyler.”

“You’re in my truck. My truck is my business and everyone in the truck is my business.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “And besides, the more you let those fools win the more you lose.”

“How do you even know I was texting a guy?” 

“Because Sugar, I know you.” He snaps, casting you a quick look from his spot at the wheel before turning back to the road. 

“I think if you focused less on me then you would be able to drive better.” 

“I think if you focused less on the boys in your phone you wouldn’t be bitchin’ and moanin’ at me all the time!” He snaps back making you gasp as Cate and Boone switch their attention back and forth between you both. 

“Should we be worried?” Cate blurts, landing her gaze on you with her eyebrows pinched together in worry. 

“Not unless Tyler can’t learn to mind his own damn business!” 

“I’ll mind my business when you stop makin’ it my business!” 

“FINE!”

“FINE!”

-

“A boy who's jacked and kind

Can't find his ass to save my life”

-

The bar that sat 3 blocks away from the current hotel the team was staying at could only be described as a dingy cowboy bar, and considering you were mad at a certain cowboy this was the perfect place.  Surrounded by dozens of cowboy hats, none of them belonging to ‘Mr. Can’t Mind His Own Business’. 

He currently stood at the other end of the bar, closer to the live band as the dance floor began to fill with line dancers. Even that far away he was still being a pain in your ass with the way he glared across the floor every time you looked over. 

“You two don’t fight a lot. This is weird for you.” Cate chuckles, spinning her bottle of beer on the counter sat in front of you both, hearing the glass ring on the wood of the counter. “It sends the entire vibe of the group off.”

“It’s his fault.” You huff, scratching at the label of your own bottle as you avoided looking in his direction again. “I honestly don’t know where his freakout came from.”

“You don’t?” 

“No!” You huff, slapping your hands on the counter. “We were fine yesterday, I told him about that date with the aviator-”

“Oh that Jake guy. He was kind of cute.”

“Thank you. Anyways-” You take a quick inhale of air before looking at her. “We were fine and then today he was fine when he came to help me out of the bathroom but the second the door to the bathroom opened he got pissy.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, I assumed he had been getting hounded by everyone all day. He must have been stressed.” 

“Hmm.” She hums out, taking a look around the bar as you sit and mope. “I’m sure you both will get over it soon enough.”

“Slim chance. I am gonna ignore him forever now.”  It’s obviously just you being over dramatic but you were angry and embarrassed that he would call you out like that in front of the group. “Besides, if he didn’t want me talking to him about all that boy stuff he should have just told me. I don't know where his boundaries lie unless he sets them.”

“Damn, that’s deep.” She nods before tilting her head. “They should have put you on the shirt.”

“That’s what I said.” 

“And yet they-”

“Excuse me for interrupting ladies…” A new voice joins the group, making you both turn to the figure. A tall man with bruises along his jaw and a scratch right above his eyebrow. A black cowboy hat paired with a black shirt.  A fine specimen if you could say so. “I just saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and I had to come say hello.”

“Well would you be pickin’ here?” Cate smiles. 

“There is no wrong answer.” You hum out, tilting your head like a cat assessing prey. 

“Then can I say both?” 

“Oh, look at that. Even with a map leading to the answer he still managed to mess it up.” You snipe, giving Cate a knowing look as you both grab at your bottles of beer and move to make your exit. 

“Wait wait.” He reaches a hand in front of you to try and stop you from passing. “Not a great start. I know that. So let me just start over, yeah?”

“Oh… I didn’t realize I did do overs.” 

“Then what can I do to be granted one?”

“Is there a problem here?” Leave it to Tyler Owens to enter this scene, giving his best glare as he inserts himself between you both with his back to you so he can glare down the cowboy.

“There is no problem here.” The cowboy smirks, and you are shocked to see just how brave he was. Then it clicks, the bruises and the hat. This was a bull rider. “You got a problem, bud?”

“Oh yeah I have-”

“LET’S DANCE!” You interrupt, sending a glare to Tyler before pulling the bullrider to the floor as Tyler rolls his eyes. 

Before you can make it too far his hand reaches out to grab your elbow with a knowing look, and even when he is mad he still holds your arm with a gentle ease and traces the skin with his thumb. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Well that’s interesting…. Cause it’s MY business!” You scoff, pushing his arm back and moving to the dance floor with the stranger. 

-

“Oh, it's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

It was only fair, since there weren’t many options of men you would just lower your standards and have fun with this idiot for the night. 

He had two left feet, and was pressed against you the entire time but not in a hot way, more so a sweaty mess kinda way. And you would have abandoned him already but every time you looked for an escape you saw Tyler and his glare, there was too much at stake here. You could never admit Tyler was right. In YOUR business. 

So you ignored him and turned back to the stranger, just in time for this waste of space to press his lips to yours. It was awkward, the way your noses pressed together and how hard he smashed his lips to yours. There was no rhythm, no preparation or molding together. It was just his lips devouring your face as you tried to lean back. But the further you tried to get away the more he leaned with you. 

When he pulls back he keeps his hands on you with a sharp smile. “Wanna go back to your place?”

There wasn’t many options, and the one option you truly wanted would never happen let alone the fact that you were fighting with him so you would make do with what you had. “Sure, let’s go.”

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

Telling Cate that you were heading out with him was easy, she made you promise to update her that you were okay, which was easy to do.  You managed to avoid any conversation about Tyler in his truck, which was hard because Mr. Bull Rider was dead set on asking about him. 

“What was that guy with white hats problem?” He asked, and you changed the conversation to the music he was playing. Then he tried the “You guys ever date or somethin’?” 

That one was harder to change since your throat got clogged up thinking of the answer. It’s not like you never wanted to date Tyler, in fact he was all you dreamed of. But it wasn’t meant to happen. Tyler wasn’t yours. 

So you simply started giving him directions to the motel like he hadn’t asked. And by the time you made it to the destination you had hoped that the conversation had passed as you unlocked the door. 

“This is it. Home sweet home….. For a little.” You smile, allowing him to look around while you take your shoes off. 

“So you live in a motel?” 

“When it’s tornado season, yes. We travel around but when he find a specific spot we try to stay.”

“You follow tornadoes?”

“Yes, and we chase them. And if there is destruction we try to help out the communities.” You explain, picking up the tornado shirt with Tylers face on it so you can show him then debate it at the last second you drop it down. “It’s fun.”

“I’ll bet.” He nods before allowing himself to sit on your bed. “We doing this?”

“Oh. Straight to the business.” You mumble, a little shocked as he begins unbuttoning the black top. 

“Sorry, did you want to talk or something?” 

“Well no- I just-” You couldn’t tell if you were thankful that the door opened in that second or absolutely furious as Tyler appeared with that fake innocent smile. 

“Hey Sugar,” He starts, letting himself in fully and shutting the door. “I just wanted to come make sure that bathroom door was all taken care of for ya’.” 

“Tyler, is now the time?”

“Oh, please. It’ll only take a minute.” He chuckles, walking past you both to get to the door. “Wouldn’t want you getting stuck in there again.”

“Tyler, what on eart-”

“Hey man, we were kinda in the middle of something here.” Stranger boy snaps out, scooting so he was right on the edge of the bed, his face pinched between confusion and anger. 

“Hey, safety first.” Tyler laughs, the sound fake and bitter as he leans down to check the hinges of the door while you just blink in shock. “Ah I see the problem here.”

“Tyler.” You hiss. 

“Just give me a moment.” He murmurs, working on the hinge of the door while you glare. “Just a minute……”

“Dude.” Stranger boy sighs and you are wound between shock, anger and embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,.”

“There she is. Good as new.” Tyler smiles, standing to swing the door. “Look at that. Bet you’re glad I did it.”

“Tyler. Out.” You snap, moving forward to grab parts of his shirt to drag him out the door and slam it on him. “Now where were we?”

But it’s no use, since the door reopens with Tyler giving yet another innocent look. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I forgot my screwdriver here.” 

“Tyler, grab it and then leave. And leave the key.” The fact that you were even in this moment was so bizarre. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna get going… but let me write my information for when you get rid of dumbass barbie over here.” Stranger cowboy mutter, grabbing the pad of paper from the desk and writing his stuff down before moving forward to attempt to kiss you but Tyler is there, patting him on the back aggressively with a slight shove. 

“Sorry to see you go bud.” He smiles, a tense and angry smile before throwing an arm around your shoulder. “But we’ll be fine here.”

And you watch the bullrider leave, the door shutting before you whirl on him. 

-

“Jesus, what's a girl to do?

This boy doesn't even know

The difference between "there," "their" and "they are".”

-

“I can murder you.” You seethe, shoving his arm off of you and taking a couple steps away from him. “Matter of fact, what’s stopping me from doing so?”

“I just figured you might want help with the door-”

“Enough with the bullshit Tyler Owens!” You yell, whirling on him with your hands on your hips and a heavy glare. “What on earth were you thinking? After your fit today and that scene I’m starting to think you have lost your damn mind!”

“Hang on now-”

“And what on earth-” You take a moment to snatch up the pillow from the motel bed to swing it at him. “WOULD MAKE YOU INTERUPT-”

“HE WAS TERRIBLE!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” You yell. “Look around for a second Owens! There aren’t many options. The ones that are worth it are already taken, the one that I want would never go for me. I don’t have many options!”

“AND WHEN AM I GONNA BE AN OPTION?!” He yells out, grabbing your wrists before you can hit him with the pillow again. “When do I get the chance to prove myself?”

“Oh stop.” You snap, moving to walk away. “Don’t mess with me about this.”

“Why would I be messing with you? Is it so hard to believe that I want you?” He follows, making sure to keep a hand on you. “Time and time again you rant to me about these men, how they suck and you hate them. And I keep waiting for you to notice me, to give me a chance. Cate tells me that you might just be nervous, or that our time will come but Sugar I don’t think I can survive this much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Your tone is gentle and you’ve given up walking away, choosing to turn to him and allow him a chance to talk. Your heart was thumping through your chest and you were struggling to catch your breath. 

“Sweetheart, from the moment I met you I’ve been stuck. Comin’ in with all that attitude like you owned the world, which if you ask me you do, and you didn’t hesitate to put me in my place.” He continues, moving closer to set his hands on your hips. “And I just kept begging the winds to give me a chance. To give me a single shot with you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Why would you give me a chance?” He laughs, pulling you in. “But I need one now. I’m begging you for a chance here.”

And though no words are spoken you both know the answer, especially when you pull him in with your hands on the back of his neck to attach your lips to his. And unlike the kiss in the bar this one felt perfect. 

There was awkwardness. He tilted his head perfectly, pulling you chest to chest as his hat covers both your heads while his lips melt against yours. He takes his time learning the kiss, his hands rubbing up and down your back as you deepen the kiss some more. This is what was meant to be and you both knew it at that moment. 

There is no objection when you begin unbuttoning his flannel, one at a time, never breaking the kiss as you push it off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor before he reaches a hand up to throw the hat closer to the nightstand. He doesn’t waste time after he hears the thump of it landing to reach and lift his undershirt off, throwing it somewhere else as he makes eye contact. 

“Please tell me I ain’t dreamin’ right now.” He whispers out as you begin to undo your own shirt to slip off before leaning up. 

“I can’t tell.” You whisper back, leaning on your tiptoes to attach your lips once more, his arms wrapping around you to undo the back of your bra. 

Normally when a man removes the bra it is thrown away and he doesn’t focus too much on any of it, but Tyler? He kisses around your jaw as he undoes the buckle of it before his kisses move down your neck while he drags the bra down until he can drop it, allowing his hands to roam. The feel of his hands sends shivers throughout you and yet they keep you warm as you try to back him to the bed. 

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure.” You whisper back, undoing his belt as he kicks off his boots. “I want you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.” He grunts out, pulling you closer before falling back onto the bed and dragging you with him. 

-

“Yet he's naked in my room

Missin' all the things he's missin'

God knows that he isn't livin' large”

-

It doesn’t take long for you both to strip, slowly and gently, until you are both bare. He doesn’t waste time kissing you gently before guiding you up the bed until you’re leaning on the pillow you hadn’t dragged away, kissing along jaw as you sigh out in relief. 

He takes his time kissing down your neck, nipping a bit to pull out a breathy moan from your lips before moving further down to kiss and suck at your breasts. He grunts out at the way you wiggle, a breathy giggle passing your lips until a moan passes them the moment his tongue circles one of your nipples. The sound draws his eyes to yours and that sweet lovestruck look falls into one of ferocity, the heated light within them as your lower stomach tightening and your hands rushing to get some contact. 

Once your hands find purchase he abandons your breasts, leaving them cold to the air, as he makes his way further down. Every kiss is followed by a lick, every nip is given a bushel of kisses to make up for it. He works your body until he makes it to your thighs, spreading them open for him to view, sending a shiver across your body. 

“Tyler, please.” You gasp out, that tight feeling in your stomach begging for relief as your thighs beg to shut, but he is having none of it. Keeping them forced open so that he may give your inner thighs the same treatment he had given the rest of your body. 

He gives up his torture with a growl before diving straight in to lick right between your folds. He keeps his hands around your hips to keep you pinned to him when your back arches as you moan out loud. He devours you, licking and sucking over and over with grunts and growls to match your moans. 

He doesn’t relent until your moan hits near scream and your hands grip at the pillow, dragging it to your face to bite into as you reach your peak, entire body shuddering as you moan out. 

He continues until you come down, pulling away to give you the smuggest smile you had ever seen from him, your entire body ablaze as you sit up to reach for him. 

The other kisses were sweet and gentle, this one was two animals claiming each other. And he let you take charge, your speed and your lead. Tasting your own juices as you dragged him back down to lay over you. 

-

“A boy who's nice that breathes

I swear he's nowhere to be seen”

-

He’s quick to flip you both over so that he’s beneath you and you are on top, a wave of panic filling you. 

“Tyler….I’ve never-” You begin, hands landing on his chest as he gazes up at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen from him. 

“If you don’t want to then that’s fine, Sweetheart.” He mutters, reaching over to grab where his hat landed and bringing it to set on your head. “But you might just need a little confidence.” 

And he was right, with the way he was looking at you and the way the hat felt, suddenly you believed you could rule the world. So you lifted yourself a bit, keeping the gaze as you reached down to line yourself up to him, and with a loud moan you sunk yourself down. 

-

“It's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

His grunts were easily replaced by moans as you sunk down, his hands digging into your hips, letting you take a moment to adjust before guiding your hips slowly. You tilt your hips with each guide, struggling to catch the proper rhythm and getting pleasure nonetheless. 

A moan escapes you as he guides you down at the same time he thrusts up and it’s like something clicks as you begin to find your own rhythm. Using your hands on his chest to keep yourself stable as you begin to speed up your movements. 

Tyler gives in, enjoying your new pace, thrusting up into every bounce. Grunting and growling as his nails dig into your hips and he closes his eyes to enjoy the pleasure while you lean down to nip at his chest which makes him groan. “Darlin’...”

And that makes something inside of you burn, a feral moan passing your lips as you speed up, nails digging into his chest before he sits up to kiss you, helping you bounce on his cock with ease. 

“Y-you’re…” He groans. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

His arms wrap around you, and he readjusts so that he was on his knees to thrust into you, pulling you down to meet him. The sound of skin slapping is alluring and your thighs clench to cage him in as you lose your breath and shut your eyes. 

“Tyler.” You whine, nails digging into his back as something in you begins coiling, tighter and tighter until he bites down between your neck and shoulder and it all falls in an instant. All you can see is white as you bite down on your own lip, holding him tight to you as the waves of pleasure subside. 

He continues to thrust before falling under the same spell that had you, keeping his forehead pressed into your collarbone as he spills his cum into you. 

You both fall into the cushion of the bed, shuddering as he pulls out before closing your eyes to catch your breath from that experience. And when he wraps his arms around you it’s far too easy to fall asleep from his warmth surrounding you like a blanket of it’s own.

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

It’s the feeling of him moving that wakes you a couple hours later, when the bed dips as he stands, making you blink in the dark to see what he is doing. Apart of you panics that he might be leaving, and this was just going to be a one night stand until he pulls on his boxers and turns back to come lift you. 

“Why are we awake?” You croak, already feeling cranky at the fact that you had been woken up. 

“I figured you’d want to shower, and this is when I normally do.”

“You shower at 4am?” You scoff, clinging to him as he sets you down so your feet touch the cold bathroom floor. 

“Yeah. I figured out that no one else showers at this time-”

“Because it’s crazy.”

“Well since no one else showers at this time the water is always at its best pressure and warmth.” He explains, reaching in to turn it on. “Then I can get another hour or so of sleep.”

“Oddly genius.” You giggle, laughing when he shucks the boxers off as a pretend strip tease before hauling you into the shower with him. 

-

“Moanin' and bitchin'”

-

He takes his time washing your body, lathering the soap over your body with gentle hands as his eyes traced over you over and over again like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. 

He let you do the same, the only words spoken never went above a whisper so you didn’t break the bubble and shampooed eachother before shutting the water off and using the towel. 

When he swings the door open he makes sure to raise his eyebrows, a look of pride covering his face that makes you scoff. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“I wonder what hot scoundrel fixed that for you…”

“Hmmm. I wish I knew.” You tease, “I might have rewarded him.”

A small growl leaves his lips as he scoops you up and hauls you to the bed once more. 

-

“Since the good ones call their exes wasted

And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin'

Then I'll just be here in the kitchen

Servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'”

-

You sit on the motel floor as Tyler works around you to get ready for the day, listening to you bitch and moan as he struggles to put his boots on. 

“I’m so sore.” You whine, falling flat on the floor to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah? At least you never have to worry about dying alone.”

“No,” You huff out a laugh. “Now I just have to worry about you killing me.” 

“Never.” He smiles, coming to haul you off the floor just to throw you over his shoulder and head for the door.

-

[m1rotics]

Thinking about intoxication play with wooyoung... He spends the whole night refilling your cup, simple mixed drinks that weren't too strong turn into drinks strong every sip making your skin warm and your thoughts less coherent than before.

"here."

you don't even get out a reply as wooyoung shoves the drink in your hand. He's been doing it all night, pouring your drinks for you and stuffing them into your hands before you can think about it. If you could collect your thoughts, and truly think about his actions, you might've questioned them (you wouldn't have, everything wooyoung does is funner when you know nothing) There's a gentle buzzing in your ears, a steady thrum in your chest from the bass of the music, the blue led light makes it impossible to focus. You take a swig anyways, wooyoung watches you with a delighted grin.

It goes down smooth, burns like a bitch, but you're too caught up in wooyoung's gaze to care. His eyes are dark, mean— predatory, almost. Like he wants to chew you up and spit you out. A slight chill trickles down your spine. When you put the cup down, he leans in and licks off the excess that spilled on your chin. Slow, deliberate.

He pulls back with a grin.

his hand wraps around your wrist, "lets go sit."

Your eyes immediately fall to the cherry red of his lips, and his smile gets wider, canines now on display. Words die on your tongue, and you settle for a dumb nod. That you're pretty sure makes you look like a bobblehead. Luckily, he doesn't comment on it, opting to turn around and drag you to the living room couch. He weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, barely stopping for anything. You can only be thankful because you can barely keep yourself up.

He settles nicely on the couch, an arm strung over the back of it. His eyes are heavily lidded, tongue poking his cheek, an invitation. You crawl into his lap, leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"finish your drink, baby,"

his voice is husky, deeper than before, but still holding that edge of playfulness. Though you think you hear a tinge of impatience. With a slow blink, you lift the cup back to your mouth, downing the rest of it. You sink back into him, dazed, suddenly too heavy to keep your head up. His hand rests on your thigh, his thumb languidly stroking your skin, just below the edge of your skirt. It's grounding, in a way, gives you something to latch onto, his touch holding you down in case you float away.

Then, something soft is pressing against the skin of your neck. It takes you a bit to recognize it as Wooyoung lips kissing your neck. Wooyoung nips at the soft skin, his tongue darting out to swipe over it. He kisses his way up the curve of your neck, and he playfully nips your earlobe.

"you okay, pretty girl?" He murmurs, still massaging the fat of your thighs. Your body feels so warm, gooey, like you've been sitting under the sun, your skin is tingling everywhere he touches it.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, but you think you manage out a yes because he doesn't pull away. His hands move up to grip your waist, snaking their way up your shirt. You're panting, heart pacing, and he hasn't even done anything.

"you'll put on a show for everyone, won't you, pretty?" He says, and you let out a whine, shifting in his lap and pushing back into his hard-on. His hands make it to your chest, and he kneads them through your bralette. He traces lazy circles over your nipples through the thin fabric. You arch your back, pressing your chest into his hands. It's so much, but not enough. He keeps a slow, steady pace, rolling your now hard nipples under the rough pad of his finger. Occasionally pinching them to feel you jolt and make you whine.

it's not enough, so you try to grind into the hardness that's pressed against your ass. His hands pull away to still your hips, you let out a displeased groan, fussy and impatient.

"Gonna turn you around," he murmurs, and you try to help but your limbs are listening to you anymore, so you end up letting him maneuver you until you're straddling his lap.

"there you go, pretty."

He purrs, honey-slow and sweet, melts over you like butter in a pan. Slippery and warm in your chest, dripping down to pool in your panties. You gasp when he trails a finger over your covered pussy, stopping to lightly stroke your clit.

"you're so wet, are you enjoying this, pretty?" He practically groans, "you like showing everyone how much of a slut you are, that you'd let me do whatever I want to you."

You whimper, pressing harder against his finger desperate for friction, for anything he's willing to give. And just like that he takes it away, your head falls forward, tears building up on your lash line, hot and big. They roll down your cheeks. You sniffle, hiccup, attempting to grind yourself against his hardness again.

"look at me," he says, but his hand is already under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. He whines, needy, hips bucking into yours at the sight of you. More tears stream down your cheeks, and he moans, breathy. He crashes your mouths together, enveloping you in a hungry kiss. It's urgent and messy, spit beginning to spill down your chin. His mouth tastes like fruit punch and alcohol. Cloying. Addictive. His tongue sweeps over yours, presses into the soft inside of your cheek, drags over your molars. His hands fall to your hips, and you can't help but roll your hips into his.

Fortunately, he doesn't stop you this time. rather, his hips don't stop moving against yours, and the two of you grind together like a well oiled machine. You cant your hips forward to put more pressure on your aching clit, sobbing into his mouth when pleasure rushes through your body like lightning. It brings you an iota of satisfaction, and for a moment, you think that it's enough. You fervently work your hips, humping his clothed boner like a bitch in heat. Wooyoung's moaning in your ear, hushed and filled with need, tells you how beautiful you look. That it feels so good, that you're making him feel so good.

He looks fucked out, and he hasn't even taken his dick out. You'd laugh if you weren't just as desperate. His pupils blown with glassy, heavily lidded eyes. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, and sweat is glistening on his forehead and his chest exposed from his button up. (He doesn't button the first two like a slut.) A little black cross sits in the dip of his chest. You cry out, head falling forward to bury itself in the crook of his neck. He smells like sage and a hint of sweat. it's all encompassing, and it makes your brain woolly. You breathe it in by the lungful, like you can't get enough. Your hips don't stop moving, you can't stop.

You want more, you need more. You need him to give you more.

"wooyoung," you mumble into his skin, but he doesn't respond. You repeat it again, louder, and this time he hums in acknowledgement.

"More," is all you say. your words are slurred, tongue still not cooperating, but you're so pent up. You push through. But he doesn't budge, just squeezes your hips. Fucking tease. "Please, I need more. Can you give me more?"

Wooyoung shudders, another low whine, "say that again."

"wooyoung," you hiccup, "please, do something."

"there you go, ha — fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, gonna give you want, baby."

He pulls his hips back to fumble with the button of his jeans. His hands are shaky, and it takes a few seconds of fiddling with it until he's finally tugging his fly down, and slipping down the waist band of his boxers. His cock is dripping, the tip shines with pre-cum, and beading at the slit. He's so hard, it's turning a light plum color. Tan and pretty, you would taste him if you weren't focused on getting off. Make him cum in your mouth, or your hand.

You pocket that thought for later.

He takes his cock in hand, and presses it against your pussy. He draws his hips back slowly, letting the tip dip into your cunt but not enough to sink in. The head nudges your clit, and you reach down to push him in, guide him to where you need him. He smacks your hand away with a swiftness. He does it a few more times, coating the underside of his dick in your slick. Your hips tremble and your cunt quivers around nothing, tears cling to your lashes.

It stings when he pushes in. A dull ache over shined by the pure relief. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim, and you let out a content sigh. People might be ogling you, probably have been the entire time. Silently watching, judging. Or maybe they're getting off to the free show. You don't really care, besides you can't tear your eyes away from wooyoung to check. His hands are planted on your hips, keeping you from moving. At first, you think he's waiting for you to get used to the stretch, but once you try to lift yourself up, his hands stay locked in place.

"woo, please," you murmur, pressing wet kisses to the side of his mouth. "Stop teasing."

He giggles, "but you're so cute when you beg."

"I've been so, so good, haven't i? Been the best girl, don't be mean." You mutter between peppering kisses to his cheek and jaw.

He gives a contemplative hum, "you have been very good to me today."

You want to nod, but you settle for sinking your teeth in the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, you can feel it, and you pray it enough to make him fuck you senseless.

And that's exactly what he does, his hands tighten their grip, lifting you up until barely the tip is in and then he's shoving you back down. It knocks the air out of you, leaves you shaking. You fall forward, chest to chest, hands balling up his shirt. He does it again, and again, and again until your eyes roll in the back of your head, breathless "ah ah ah" falling from your lips.

"is this what you wanted? to be fucked dumb?"

When did his voice get so low? You don't know, can barely think, but it rumbles through his chest, through your skin. Thick, sticky, molasses-smooth. Only moans slip past your lips, he takes that as an answer in itself.

His chuckles taper off into a moan.

"I know it is, silly girl. can't even speak, can you?" His words come out breathy, a whiny lilt to it. His own desperation seeping into his sentences. It oozes into his actions, too. Thrusting up into you as best as he can in this position, his fingers digging into your hips, bruising.

"woo, I'm gonna-" you warn.

He cuts you short, "it's okay, pretty girl, I got you. cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you squeeze my cock."

His fingers find your clit, and he rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud. Pleasure rips through you, arrow through the heart, sliced down the middle. White-hot and celestial. You choke out a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. You're dizzy, babbling, whimpering in his ear. Wooyoung is no better off, grunting and whining, hips stuttering as he gets closer to orgasm himself.

"c'mon baby, I want you cum on me. You can do that, right? Please, I wanna feel you fall apart on my dick."

His words drag you closer to the edge, and you can feel it. Mind-numbing heat simmering in the pit your stomach. You can't think, so you can only mumble out incomplete sentences. Nonsensical strings of words spewing from your lips as he pushes you closer to climax. You cum with a harsh shudder, burying your teeth in his neck to muffle your moans. You think that's what thrusts him into his own orgasm because he unloads in you after a few more weak humps.

The two you sit there for a while, sweaty and trembling, until you've regained your breath and you're not lightheaded anymore. You lift your head to look at him, and he flashes you a crooked smile, "wanna get out of here?"

You nod faster than you've ever nodded in your life.

[midnightarcheress]

Simon has a new assignment.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 1 | gold rush masterlist.

after years exhausting his body in the military and too many losses to count, Simon decided to retire. goodbye extensive deployments, food and sleep deprivation, constant adrenaline pump in his veins, hours spent washing the blood off of his fingernails. except he didn’t truly retire. life as a civilian again was too strange, too boring. he thrives in following orders and being the best at it. he missed having a purpose, even if it’s far from saving the world.

so, because of that, he agreed on joining a private military company as a contractor. never takes the dirty, mercenary-like jobs though – despite being rusted, his moral compass is still there, so he usually sticks with the security, training, bodyguarding type of work. easy enough to not take a toll on his body, and to not strain his conscience with the worry of ending innocent lives to cover up some bastard’s filth, but demanding enough to keep his mind out of his own life for a while.

the guy on the other side of the line doesn’t tell him much about the new task. bodyguard for an actress, indefinite time, details via e-mail. a few minutes later, the computer screen lights up with the case information and his eyes skim through the text; famous actress, has been receiving threatening letters and who ultimately has a stalker. a seemingly uncapturable one, as the police have not been able to trace them for months. incompetent wankers. in his prime he would locate terrorists with ease; nothing he couldn’t do right now, but his contract was strict – keep her safe and keep to yourself.

he doesn’t recognize the name, but the small picture attached to the message is slightly familiar, maybe from one of the times he spent hours flicking through the channels on the telly while battling a crippling insomnia. his brows knit together when he peers at the set of rules that accompanies the e-mail. no talking, no touching unless extremely necessary, must keep distance at all times.

in the months he’s been working in the company, he never had a job with an actual celebrity – mostly politicians and businesspeople, extremely straightforward and simple to execute, usually for a short period of time. he’s convinced that it will be the longest mission of his life, probably dealing with an entitled rich woman who’s used to having everybody begging at her feet.

dread fills his mind as he watches the trees quickly passing by his window on the car. the drive to the meeting is short enough to contain the rate of the antipathy brewing on his chest, but long enough to make him question accepting the assignment.

he pulls up on the driveway and walks towards a tall, modern building, filled with frantic people walking from side to side. glancing at his phone, he re-reads the details of the reunion; second door on the 23th floor, her manager will be expecting you. his fingers tap on the side of his thigh as the lift raises to the office level, eyes glaring at the mirror in the back of the platform. the image on the glass differs from the one on his past – military buzzcut and skull-printed balaclava replaced by messy blond locks and a neck gaiter, still covering a bit of his face even after all this time. old habits die hard.

the doors pry open right after the number appears on the screen and he walks down the hallway to the office, stopping on his tracks as he notices a feminine voice coming from inside the room. “i’m scared just as much as you, but is this really necessary?” she’s in there too? wasn’t the meeting only with the guy?

“yes, princess, it is necessary. do you want to make the front-page news as a corpse?” another voice can be heard responding, this time, male. must be the manager.  “in case you've forgotten, i’m also your friend, and i’m merely concerned about your safety. we cannot let that stunt from last week happen again.” stunt. he recalls part of the information on the file, depicting how she was almost assaulted by a weirdo that followed her on the street; however, the creepy prick was cleared from being the stalker and left the station on bail. great justice system. 

“we’ve already increased the security on your house, he was just hired to keep you safe on the outside.” he decides to stop eavesdropping and knocks sharply on the door. “must be him.” the man says, and he listens as footsteps approach the entryway.

“well, hello there. please, come in,” he steps aside, allowing Simon to enter the room. the office is fairly average, leather couch on one corner, portraits on the wall of what he assumes are the man’s clients, but all of the attention goes to the large windows showing a perfect view of the city. “so, i’m Daniel, the great manager as you may know," he smugly speaks, "and of course you already know her.” he gestures to the woman on the armchair.

the woman from the picture. the woman from the late night movie he was absentmindedly watching on a late night. you. you look the same as he'd seen before, but somehow entirely different. the warm sunlight coming through the glass shines on your skin when you stand on your feet, golden flecks twinkling in your irises as you offer him your name and extend a hand to greet him, sweetly mouthing “and you are?”

he shakes your hand with a firm grasp, stirring away the sudden void in his brain and swallowing the lump on his throat that hindered his words. “Ghost.” easy detachment. his gruff voice reverberates in the space as he repeats the orders in his head, the sense of doubt starting to cloud his judgement. keep to yourself. maybe the job won’t be as bad as he thought.

been a bit obsessed with this idea so i decided to write it and see how it goes.