#last year haunts me every day in some form or another

[mediocre-writing]

Fic recs Yoongi

Some fics I read this week, and I need to make people read them too lol I'll probably do it with the other members too.

Interlude | MYG | Series Masterlist @yoongiofmine (Idol!Yoongi X Deaf!Reader)

Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.

– This is simply the most beautiful Yoongi series I've ever read.

——

The Consequences of Fucking Up @borathae

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

– You won't regret reading it, trust me.

——

his entire world | min yoongi x f!reader | a serendipitous life series @serendipitous-seven

summary: you and yoongi are trying to enjoy your friends' wedding with a very fussy baby

– THIS WAS ONE OF THE SOFTEST THINGS I'VE EVER READ 😭💞

——

F*ck Tradition | Yoongi @dancinglikebutterflywings ( Min Yoongi x Fiancee!Reader)

- Synopsis: Y/N takes Yoongi with her to go wedding dress shopping because her fiancées opinion is the only one that matters.

– I feel like this story and this writer deserves much more recognition, MY GOD IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL.

—

you're okay | myg (m) @taegularities

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

– This here comforted my heart in a way 😭😭💞💞

—

ex-things - m.yg. @namfinessed

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

– That was adorable and made me smile like a fool.

—

impression | yg @namjoonchronicles

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

– This is so cute, I love the husband!Yoongi

—

The Final - Day 02 | MYG | ONESHOT @yoongiofmine

Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

– it made me wild and crazy

—

dissertation | yg @namjoonchronicles

↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying. 

– Yoon being the person we all need, This writer is wonderful, please give him a chance. (I'm telling you this writer is amazing)

—

Shy - Yoongi X Reader @7ndipity

Summary: You’re desperately craving your boyfriend's attention, but are too shy to ask for it outright. Luckily, Yoongi knows what you want anyway.

– This is something cute and warm.

—

YES, I WILL DO MORE BECAUSE WE HAVE MANY TALENTED WRITERS.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

[nightingale-prompts]

Time Off-DCxDP prompt

Getting Phantom to comply with anything is hard enough. He does his own thing more of the time. He is constantly shifted from team to team as a sort of contracted hero. He goes where he is needed.

So far they have learned a lot about his kind. Ghost were hard to pin down due to how different they behaved. One important thing they have learn is Ghosts have their own rules and one big rule is never skipping out on the holidays. They celebrate every holiday they can from Halloween, Christmas, to New years. They like these days. Other holidays like Independence Day depend on the ghost. But Phantom made it clear that they have their own holidays that were very important. If those days came up he had to adhere to them.

"A meeting. I can't go. Not next Saturday. It's the Veil's Thinning." Phantom said "It's the biggest part of the year."

The Thinning was the day the barrier between realms weakens and allows natural portals to form. It is the one day that they are given free rein to roam. They can visit family or finish their business. They even leave gifts or messages for the living.

"You can't come because of a party? Phantom this is serious business." Natman sighed.

"I am being serious. Your parents visit you every year for the Thinning and you can't even appreciate it. The least you could do is respect our traditions and leave an offering for them this year." Phantom pouted as he jetted off

**********

"I need a date to the Haunter's Ball. Or else Clock's gonna choose someone for me." Danny sighed flopping on the couch.

The Titans all glanced at one another to see who was going to try to claim the title first.

Phantom took the silence as a no.

"The ball is sort of like a fea party. Friendly hauntings, playing tricks on mortals, and attend a grand feast where we eat enchanted food. You have to dress in costume though. It also happens to fall on my death day so its a big deal if I don't go."

He conveniently left out that part that mortals who dare attend may earn favor with the Ancients—or become the subject of ghostly pranks.

************

Not every holiday is a celebration.

One day in particular was The Silence. A day of absolute stillness, observed once per year. On that day, all spirits cease their movement. It is a sacred time of contemplation, where ghosts meditate on their past lives and what lies beyond their new form.

Phantom took it very seriously. He sent it meditating in the Watchtower. J'onn joined him in silent contemplation. It's an emotional holiday.

It doesn't compare to the holiday that has no set date. The Unfinished Mourning. when a great tragedy befalls a world a large number of souls enter the realm on their way to the other side. Some stay, but most don't. Their deaths are often sudden and unfair. Ghosts of the recently departed come together to grieve alongside the living. Those who participate earn a brief moment of clarity, where they may remember their lives and speak their final thoughts before they depart to their afterlife fully.

Phantom isn't seen during this time. He is busy laying souls to rest and performing last rights. He knows the names of the dead and marks them all down so that they are buried properly. He tells families, the survivors of their loved ones' fate. He gives them final goodbyes. He takes the blame of angry citizens who tell him it's his fault. He is demonized most in these moments as a harbinger of death. He can not control what he is and knows his role is important. For the living and the dead.

************

On a very special night Phantom invites everyone to his favorite holiday. It was created for him after all. Clockwork named it thousands of years ago when Phantom accidentally created it. Long story.

The Night of Unanswered Whispers. A rare celestial event when the stars align in a specific pattern. Ghosts gain the ability to be heard clearly by the living but only in riddles and cryptic phrases. Many spirits use this opportunity to pass on secrets, hidden knowledge, or warnings. Scholars and mystics would spend the night deciphering ghostly murmurs in hopes of uncovering forgotten lore.

Ot was like a giant puzzle to solve as everyone could write down their messages and try to solve them. The Bat family members liked it as much as Danny did. Diana and Hal just liked the atmosphere. It was a nice moonlit picnic under the stars with wisps providing light.

(That's the end for now. I have 10 more holidays in mind.)

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham's greatest detectives.

[chapter 3]

Mama I’m Chasing A Ghost.

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom looked out onto the manicured gardens of the estate, and in the distance, was a view of Gotham that never seemed to change.

The same scenery, the same routine.

The butlers, the maids, the drivers who ferried me from one lavish location to another.

Every day was like the last, but with one major exception;

Gotham Academy

For the first time in my life, I had been thrust into a world that wasn’t mine. My mother had insisted I’d go, telling me it was for my own good. I was homeschooled my entire life, my education confined to private tutors and digital classes.

That is.. until my mother moved me to a prestigious school a few months ago. I don’t know what changed her mind. She was always so hellbent on keeping my life private. Her sweet little girl that only she knew about.

But now here I am attending a school that is closely watched by weird, content-hungry journalists and creepy paparazzis hoping to catch a photograph of children with high titles.

Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider. A puzzle that didn’t quite fit. I was the new kid—the girl who came out of nowhere.

But being an outsider didn’t automatically mean loner.

My presence didn’t go unnoticed.

I was different. People knew it, felt it, and stared. Maybe it was the fact that I came from a family—a clan—that held such an influence over Gotham’s elites. I was basically one relative away from a famous celebrity or a corrupt politician.

But, of course, there was also the resemblance to Martha Wayne.

It was a ghost of a resemblance, really, but it haunted me all the same. From the first day I stepped onto campus, I heard the whispers;

She looks like Martha Wayne.

The wife of Thomas Wayne?

She could be her daughter...

Or granddaughter.

It had started out as idle speculation, but as the days passed, the gossip only grew.

People stared, talked behind my back, and pointed at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. They didn't know me, but they had already formed an opinion. The mystery girl. The girl who had somehow, inexplicably, appeared out of nowhere. The girl who had the same smile, the same eyes, the same air of dignity and grace as Gotham’s most beloved figure. The figure whose tragic death had left an indelible mark on the city.

I had never cared for the attention. In fact, I hated it. I’m not interested in being some object of fascination, and that’s just how I was raised. I’m not Martha Wayne nor am I related to her—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told. The more people asked, the more I pushed that idea away. But the whispers were constant.

It made me think. A lot. So much more than what I preferred.

And suddenly, the buried thoughts from childhood of who and where my biological father was came rushing back.

Ever since I was a child, I had learned to bury my feelings—bury the questions about my father, and why my mother wouldn’t speak of him. There had been one conversation about it, years ago when my mother still had the time to let me in her study.

"Your father is not someone you need to concern yourself with," mother had said, her voice cold and stern. "Do not ask about him. Do not seek him. He is not a part of your life. Understand?"

And now, in the halls of Gotham Academy, that memory itched at me, more often than ever before. The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but I didn’t hurry to leave. I stood at my locker, staring at my reflection in the shiny surface of the metal.

Do I look like her?

————————

taglist:

@leeleecats @mariadvorak @deans-spinster-witch @rainlovewrites @xoacesgf @whiteoakoak @uknowimdumb @otterluver05

[bullet-prooflove]

Nadine: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Every year on the anniversary of Maria’s death, Jack has dinner with her sister Nadine. It’s a tradition that’s been going on for well over a decade, ever since they lost her in the car accident.

This year though, this year he forgets.

He’s been seeing you for six months and it’s been a whirlwind of laughter, fun and romance. His life is sunnier, brighter and he knows that’s because he’s starting to let go, to forgive himself.

When he gets that text from Nadine summoning him to the restaurant, something in this chest sinks because Maria’s sister, she will never let him forget the role he played in his wife’s death.

“This’ll be the last time.” He promises you as you lie on your stomach on his couch, wearing nothing but his Bob Dylan t-shirt, flicking through a medical journal on his tablet.

“Jack, I’m not asking for that.” You remind him, setting the tablet down as you look up at him.

“I know but I need it to be. I can’t keep reliving the past not while I’m trying to step into the future.” He tells you as his lips brush your temple. “Wish me luck ok?”

“You won’t need it.” You say, capturing his mouth with yours and Jack seriously entertains the idea of stripping off his clothes and taking you right here on the couch. He groans as you pull away, tapping the tip of his nose with your fingertip. “You are procrastinating.”

He is because dinner with Nadine…

It’s not just complicated, its fucked up in a way he can’t begin to describe.

When he sees Nadine at the bar of the restaurant, it’s clear she’s come to play. She’s wearing a black form fitting dress he recognises from Maria’s wardrobe, the one she used to wear to all their anniversaries. Her hair is loose, falling across her features in sultry waves and her mouth is painted with a slash of red. His heart stops when her eyes flicker up to meet his, his breath catching because from this distance, she could be Maria.

And that’s exactly the point.

The way she walks towards him it’s Maria’s walk. The hair flip, the hand on the hip, even the way she purses her lips, they’re all Maria’s mannerisms. It’s sends a horrified shiver running down his spine because it feels like he’s being haunted, like the moment he decides to move on his dead wife’s ghost appears to drag him back into the grave he was buried in with her.

“This is seven shades of fucked up.” He tells Nadine, his voice raw and gravelly. “You cannot do this, you cannot turn up here looking like her-”

“You wanted Maria.” She says gesturing to the dress. “Isn’t that what you said last time? You would give anything for one last meal, one last kiss, one last time…”

“You are not her Nadine!” He snaps, running his hand through his unruly burnished silver curls. “You will never be her! You need to stop with all this bullshit.”

“This bullshit?” She questions. “This isn’t bullshit Jack, this is me trying to help you move on after a decade mourning for my sister. She is gone but you are still here, I am still here-”

“Nadine…” He says, his whiskey eyes glittering with vitriol. “Whatever competition you were in with Maria it was over the day she died, I am not some prize you can pick up now that she’s gone. I’m not the dress you’re wearing, or the necklace you inherited, or the literal dead woman’s shoes you’ve stepped into. I am a person, one who is still trying to put themselves back together again, who is trying to develop a healthy relationship-”

“You’re seeing someone?” Her head snaps up and those eyes, they burn like coals in the darkest depths of hell.

“Yea.” He says frankly. “I am and she’s good for me, she’s so fucking good for me…”

She slaps him then. Hard, across the face. Red hot heat blossoms in his cheek as he stares at her, his hand pressing against it.

“I hope she looks at you one day and I hope she sees how broken you truly are Jack. I hope she sees every fucked up little thing about you and she gets in that car-”

“Don’t say it.” He snarls. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“-I hope she ends up the same way as Maria, I hope you keep on losing that thing you love because that is what you deserve Jack, it’s what you reap. Death, destruction, heart break and the sooner you throw yourself off that roof, the better the whole world is going to be without you.”

It feels like he’s been stabbed, not once but multiple times, the knife breaking through his skin, carving out his insides as his blood drips onto the floor beneath his feet. He may have not killed Maria but the ferocity of the argument they’d had about him re-enlisting, it had put her in that car that night.

“I can’t stand to look at you right now.” She had said snatching up the keys. “You’re just so fucking frustrating. You don’t understand what it’s like when you leave everyone else behind.”

He does now. He understands what it’s like to be the one sitting at home, waiting for your wife only to discover she was so pissed off she drove right through a stop sign, totalling her car. He’s the one who had to make the choice to turn off her life support, who had to explain to Cici that even though her body was still there SHE was gone.

You’re half asleep when he gets in later on, curled up in his sheets, your face tucked into his pillow. He’d stuck around for a few drinks, trying to erase Nadine’s words after she stormed out of the restaurant. The bite of them, it’s still embedded in his skin, clinging to him like an wanted spirit.

He lies down beside you with a sigh and you snuggle in close, tucking yourself against him, your fingertips ghosting over the dusting of freckles dotted across his cheek.

“You deserve better than this.” He whispers into the darkness. “You deserve better than me.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask him, your nose trailing lightly along his. “Or is that what someone has told you?”

“I…” He begins, trying to make sense of the thoughts, the feelings that keep surging up inside him. “I don’t fucking know anymore.”

“Well, I will tell you what I know.” You say propping your head up on the pillow. “I think these last few months you’ve been happy and tonight you hung out with someone who doesn’t want that and it’s messed you a little.”

“Nadine...” He confesses, his voice breaking. “She said the world would be better off without me and sometimes, sometimes I think that’s true.”

“That’s not true.” You whisper, your fingers combing through his burnished silver curls. “Nadine’s just trapped in her own grief spiral and she’s trying to drag you in it with her. There is no way this world would be a better place without you, not with all the good you do.”

Your lips brush over his features, tiny little rays of sunshine kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose as you cradle his face between your hands.

“Think of all the people that need you. Where would Robby be without his best friend to keep him from losing his shit? And Cici, she needs her dad Jack, you’re the only stable person who has ever been there for her.”

“And you?” He questions quietly. “Do you need me as much as I need you?”

“I need you Jack.” You whisper, your mouth grazing his. “I need you like I need the air in my lungs to breathe.”

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[pieandflannel]

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ talking to the moon 🌔

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

summary: you never really got over deans death.

cw: heavy angst, death, grief, denial. brief reference to events in s15.

word count: 684

julia yaps: i literally cried while writing this… </3 (proof)

inspo: talking to the moon by bruno mars + s15 ep20

part two here

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

you knew the risks of this job. you and the boys always have. any day can be your last, every hunter knew it and accepted that fate, but now?— you are taking baby out for another ride onto an empty field where you regularly go, you park it and walk out, the door creaking like always, something dean never really cared to take care of when it came to baby. but that’s what gave her personality.

you sit on the hood of the impala looking up at the darkening sky, dean’s last words to you repeating themselves inside your head. “when you look up at the night sky and see the first star appear, that’ll be me saying i love you, so look out for it, okay sweetheart?”

you take off the jacket you’re wearing, dean’s favourite green jacket, and lay it beside you on the hood. you gently stroke the canvas material, a button finding it’s way under your fingertips. tears forming in your eyes as you remember how much dean loved to wear that jacket. You didn’t even have the courage to wash it.

the feeling of longing ripping you apart from the inside out. no matter how long ago it happened, it will never feel real. denial haunts you every single day ever since dean passed away.

as you wipe away your tears you notice the first star up in the sky, “hi dean” you spoke softly with a small sad smile, not being able to hold your tears in. soft sobs coming from your petite being.

rarely has there been a night where you didn’t talk to the moon and stars, desperately hoping that they pass on your messages to heavens mailroom.

“i miss you so much… we all do, especially sammy.. he misses his older brother” you say, your voice croaky from the tears. you wipe your eyes with your sleeve, it’s being stained with your tears after so many nights of crying.

“miracle literally has to have one of your flannels in his doggy bed in order to sleep properly..” you spoke up to the sky, but deep down you were praying that dean was listening.

“i even gave baby a bath today..” you share, your hand gently patting her, imagining dean proudly smiling at the news. “i couldn’t collect myself to clean the inside just yet… but at least she’s shiny on the outside now” tears welling up in your eyes as you talk with a pained smile.

“i hope you know how much i love you… and that there is not a single day where i don’t think about you” you take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from sobbing. the frosty air burning your nostrils. but the cold weather doesn’t stop you from talking to dean before sleep. it became a ritual, a habit of yours. you couldn’t go to sleep unless you did so.

you sit in silence for a good while, just appreciating the stars shining. star gazing used to be your and deans go to date. he would drive the impala onto this exact field, park it and the two of you would simply gaze up into the night sky, cuddle up into each other and exchange some stories or memories of yours. whether it was a funny one or traumatic, it didn’t matter because you had each other.

this was also the place where dean confessed his feelings for you years ago, so this spot holds a very special place in your heart.

the faint sounds of your sniffles echo through the grass, you take a deep breath before speaking up again, “i should get going.. but i’ll be back tomorrow” you reassure, grabbing the jacket and putting it on before sliding down the car.

you wave up into the sky, and at that exact moment a shooting star flies across the sky. you gasp softly deciding to take that as a sign, you were well aware that others thought of you as a bit delusional, but you didn’t care, you needed to believe. faith is what kept you somewhat sane.

“goodnight dean, sleep well”

disclaimer: grief can be a very very difficult thing to deal with, i myself go through it every day for the past couple of years, it never really goes away, so if you ever need someone to talk to or for someone to simply hear you out, feel free to message/contact me! you are never alone and you always have me! <333

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @figisonline @figthoughts @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @heartrendercastiel

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[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Part 2

"Name's Ghost"

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, those piercing blue ones burned into the back of my mind. The mask, the way he moved, the suffocating energy he exuded—it all haunted me in the most intoxicating way.

The next morning at work, I tried to shake it off, burying myself in emails and reports. But my concentration was nonexistent. My friend, ever perceptive, noticed as she dropped by my desk around mid-morning.

“You’re distracted,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against my cubicle.

“No, I’m not,” I lied, my cheeks flushing.

“Uh-huh,” she smirked. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain masked man in the ER last night, would it?”

“Shut it!” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else heard.

“What? It’s obvious. You were staring at him like he was a forbidden snack, and he looked at you like he wanted to devour you.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “He did not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He did. And it’s the most excitement I’ve seen you have in… well, years.”

Her words hit harder than I expected because they were true. My marriage had long since lost its spark, the daily routine of life eroding what little passion remained.

But this? One look from that man had ignited something inside me, something I thought I’d buried.

My friend's voice softened. “I’m just saying, maybe it’s time you let yourself feel something again. Even if it’s just a fantasy.”

I waved her off, trying to refocus on my work. But deep down, I couldn’t ignore the tiny seed of temptation her words had planted.

It wasn’t long before I saw him again.

A few days later, I was dropping off some paperwork in the ER when I spotted him. He was standing by the nurses’ station, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he spoke to one of the doctors.

My heart jumped into my throat.

I told myself to keep walking, to drop off the forms and leave, but my feet refused to listen. Before I knew it, I was lingering nearby, pretending to scan a bulletin board on the wall.

He must have sensed me, because he turned abruptly, his eyes locking onto mine.

It was just like before—electric, intense, like he was stripping me bare with nothing but a look.

This time, he moved.

I barely had time to react before he was standing in front of me, his sheer presence making me feel small despite my own curves. Up close, I could see the faint lines of a scar peeking out from under the edge of his mask, disappearing into his hairline.

“You work here?” he asked, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. “In administration. I was just… dropping off paperwork.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “You were in here the other night.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I… yeah,” I stammered. “I was meeting a friend.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes dragging over me in a way that made my skin heat. Finally, he spoke again. “Name’s Ghost.”

“Ghost?”

He shrugged, as if daring me to ask for more.

I didn’t.

Instead, I offered my name, my voice trembling slightly. His eyes narrowed, like he was committing it to memory.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, though the way he said it felt anything but casual.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there like a complete idiot.

For the rest of the day, I was useless. My thoughts kept returning to him—his voice, the way he looked at me, the way he filled the entire room with his presence.

That night, as I sat on the couch next to my husband, pretending to watch TV, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ghost.

And for the first time in years, I felt alive.

Part 3

[argisthebulwark]

I'm Glad I Get Forever

summary: Asking your partner if they'll fall for someone else after you've died. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Teldryn, Balimund, Mercer, Farkas, Vilkas, Miraak, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: non graphic mentions of death/grief obv masterlist

Yes

Teldryn ponders the question, feet propped comfortably on your lap. He enjoys evenings like this; sharing a bottle of wine miles from the nearest town, nothing but the stars to keep you company. For weeks you'd swapped stories until there was nothing left to tell - you knew each other too well. Asking each other questions became an easy way to stave off boredom. "I suppose." He sighs, watching your brows raise. "We both know you'd give me some deathbed speech about how you want me to keep living, cursing me to seek a new patron willing to drag me across Tamriel. Can't have my talents going to waste." He's right, of course. Teldryn's always right.

Balimund knows he will never seek out romance - he hadn't even sought you out, merely a series of happy accidents that led you into his heart. A blacksmith made a fair partner for a warrior, romance blossoming over years spent haggling over his forge. "If it happened organically, don't think I'd sabotage it." He muses, stretching out the sore muscles in his shoulder. The thought of you passing makes him feel a bit ill but he brushes past it, trusting in armor crafted by his own hands to keep you safe. "You'll always be my heart, but I've got a feelin' you wouldn't want me to end up alone."

Mercer says yes, the lie slipping easily between gritted teeth. He's already let you get too close and he can't pass up the perfect opportunity to force a bit of distance. He refuses to let you know the horrible truth he harbors deep in his chest - he cares for you. Rolling his eyes he pointedly ignores the cute divot between your brows. "Of course." He lies, panic clawing at his throat at the mere thought of losing you. "Maybe I'll find someone who bothers me less."

Farkas has to sit with your question, rolling it around in his mind. His gut reaction is to refuse - no one else could capture his heart as you have, right? Though, he hadn't expected to fall for you either. It could happen again. "Maybe a few decades later, after I've mourned and all that." He offers, though he simply cannot see a future for himself without you; your home built together, your family growing with age, your hands healing every little wound. It is only you. "Seems unlikely for you to go first, though."

No

Vilkas declines without a second thought. He doesn't even look up from his book, apparently unfazed by your question. There's a cute flush creeping up his cheeks, though you bite back the urge to comment on it. "I know you'd haunt me." He mutters, kissing your knuckles. "I'll keep an eye out for your ghost, though. Don't think that would count as seeing someone else."

Miraak is disgusted by the thought. He cannot fathom living life alone once more, the idea of another partner taking your place making him feel sick. You'd carved out space in his old heart, no other could fill the void left by your absence. "Each of my days would be too heavy without you, my love." Intense as always, he clutches your face. "You are the sole resident of my heart. I fear that I would not last long in this life without you - I would soon follow you into whatever afterlife will accept my tainted soul."

Arnbjorn rolls his eyes at your question. It's quite fun getting under his skin, though you keep that thought to yourself. Even if you know he will never harm you, he is sharpening a freshly formed dagger. "I didn't even want to fall for you, I'm not doing this again." He grunts, pointedly ignoring your excited gasp. "You're it for me." "I had no idea you could be sweet." "Shut it." He snarks, the blunt edge of his blade swinging toward where you're perched on his workbench. "Or your death will become more than a hypothetical."

Brynjolf's heart cannot withstand another, losing you would be too much. Your words remind him of those awful days he thought Mercer had stolen you from him - the pit he'd fallen into, the despair sitting so heavily on his chest. He cannot imagine living with the gnawing, ceaseless pain your loss would create once more. "Never." He doesn't find the humor in your question, holding you a bit tighter to his chest when you fall into bed. There is no one else for him. Brynjolf's known this for ages, you are the love of his life.

Cicero giggles at your question - how silly! His funny Listener, no one else can ever measure up to you. Only you understand him. Mother's chosen, his most beloved Listener, you are love to him. "Funny Listener, don't make Cicero laugh." He sighs, pinching at your cheeks. "Your jokes have gotten better - it seems you're taking after your favorite jester!" "I was serious." "Never, ever, ever, ever!" He sings, planting a kiss on your nose. "Only my silly Listener, forever and ever."

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 3 Vampire

A corpse supposed, in European folklore, to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth.

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @cherrysuzaku

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

Never go out at night. Especially near the old cemetery. 

You never understood why. Aa a child growing up you just assumed because the place was scary and full of ghosts so you were happily in agreement of staying far, far away from the old cemetery down the road. You'd  never go there, and stayed very far away which pleased your family. It wasn't until your sixteenth birthday that your grandfather pulled you aside one day under the guise of coming to help him carry vegetables to sell at the nearby town square however as soon as you two were alone, he pulled you both behind the barn and had  a very scary serious face.

"Y/n, listen to me. You're sixteen years old now. In two more years you're going to be all grown up and be able to make your own decisions and that's why I have to warn you before it's too late."

You blinked at him in shock. "Grandpa, what are you talking about about?" 

"I'm talking about vampires!" His tone was so blunt it made you blink.

"Vampires?" 

"Do you know why the old cemetery was abandoned and the new one was built right behind the village? Or why no one goes near the old one? Or why no one stays out at night?" You shook your head. You just assumed because it was creepy and haunted. He scoffed. "Of course not! No one's ever bothered to tell you the truth! Folks around here like to pretend nothing bad happens around here!"

"But...Vampires?" 

He nodded. That sounds.. unbelievable. There hasn't been any cases of people going missing or being found dead with their bodies drained of blood or with bite marks on their necks. And there hasn't even been any livestock killings other than the time your uncle caught a fox in his henhouse last year..But that was just a fox. 

"Let me tell you the entire truth. Back even before even my own parents were born, there was a clan that lived in the abandoned estate right next to that cemetery, it's so long no one even remembers their name, but long ago tragedy struck them. The entire clan turned on one another over a family dispute which left only two standing. A pair of brothers one of which left his clan after the incident while the other took over the entirety of the estate."

"That's very sad, but what does that have to do with anything with Vampires?"

"The brother who left died." His tone suddenly became very grim. "His body was found one day alongside the road as dead as roadkill. Instead of burning the cursed corpse, he was brought home to his brother so he may be buried in the family cemetery. However that mistake would prove to be fatal. The very next day after the funeral, the remaining brother was found dead in his bedroom! His entire body was drained of blood and a look of pure horror was etched onto his face."

Your eyes widened in shock at the words that left his mouth.

"It didn't stop there. A distant member of the clan's family went missing the next week, and then a week after that two other girls from the surrounding area also went missing. Not even their bodies were ever found."

"That's all very sad..but how do you know that it was vampires. Couldn't the girls have just ran away from home? Or the brother have a heart attack and died?" 

"Because when the local priest investigated the cemetery alongside the towns men, he ordered all the clan members graves to be dug up and the bodies examined." His gaze turned grave as a shudder physically shook his body as you gulped. "One by one each and EVERY member was dug up from the ground for the priest to examine and each one was the same with some form of destruction until they got to the final one. The brother who left the estate. "

Your skin got goosebumps and a shiver ran down your own spine at the way he was looking at you in fear. This story..Even if it was fake, sure was scary.

"When they pulled his cursed coffin from the ground and tore it open, his body was in perfect cold condition. As if he has just died within the last hour." His fearful expression became more scared. "But he wasn't the only one in that grave. Within the soft earth they found the three girls who had gone missing. Their bodies in as perfect condition as their devilish husband now. He had claimed them as his brides of the undead!" 

"W-Why didn't they just burn the bodies then?"

"Because they had already angered the spirits and committed a sacred crime by digging up all the bodies! No one wanted to risk angering the spirits on top of having a vampire! All the bodies were reburied with the exception of those cursed with vampirism. They were taken to be locked away in a mausoleum, and a steak was driven into the man's heart to return him to the dead! That place was abandoned since."

"If the vampire was killed, then why is there still worry?"

"Because someone removed his stake! A vampire is only dead as long as the stake remains in his heart! However it was discovered someone had broken into the crypt and removed it. The bodies were gone and since then it's always been the same. Don't go out at night. Stay away from the old cemetery. You're a young woman so you're going to be the most vulnerable. Heed my words, Child. Do not be fooled by them."

Since then you've been scared of going outside at night by yourself which your grandpa approved of until his eventually death a year later..but with you becoming older and older, you noticed that everything really wasn't as scary as your grandfather made it out to be. Your parents never before seemed to mind you going outside at night so long as you stayed away from the old cemetery they seemed perfectly happy. 

Plus LITERALLY NOTHING EVER HAPPENED!!

Nothing but the usual animals in the night. You never saw anything dangerous other than maybe a wild animal. Even IF there was a vampire running around, he must've been long gone by now or wasn't interested in the humans here. In fact he might not even exist at all! You came to the conclusion that he DEFINITELY didn't exist when you were out stargazing fell asleep and woke up perfectly okay on your balcony. If there was a vampire then he would've taken advantage of a woman fast asleep in the night. 

So you began to wonder what else might've been made up? Fairies? Ghosts? Imps? You've never seen anything like that even when you visited the cemetery and your grandparents' graves. No ghost, spirits, or spooks. So was the old cemetery they told you about really that bad either? Your curiosity only continued to grow and grow as you turned twenty and it was one day that you decided to go and check it out for yourself. 

Walking down the old path long since overgrown and completely covered in grass and flowers. You barely were able to find it from how much it blended into nature. You didn't know how far exactly you walked or how much time had passed by but eventually you came across something you were sort of expecting. The starts of a rock wall..the sight of it in the sunlight made you slow down to a stop. Staring wide eyed at the monument like it was something forbidden.

You should probably turn back now...but there's a reason why you came here during the day instead of night. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly approached. 

Old rocks crumbling away slowly from the elements and overgrown by vines. The wall was old and looked one step from crumbling away entirely as you approached it before slowly grabbing on some semi looking non rumbling parts and started pulling yourself up enough to look over the wall. The state of the inside was like a something out of a ghost story alright. Giant grass and wild flowers growing up and taking over the stone walkways that cracked badly with neglect, a few trees had grown in random places and a few stones looked like they were entangled in their roots.

Your footfalls were the only things that sounded around the place as you slowly walked around looking at everything. There was so many stones laid about everywhere. Misshapen by the elements over time and overgrown like everything else around the place. There was symbols that might've been named long ago but they were too worn away to really make out what they were when you curiously peered at a few. Continuing to walk around until you stumbled upon something. Something big.

A giant structure like building that was as big as a shed made of stone. 

It stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of everything. A giant tree growing out of a giant crumbling crack in the top and side coating the entire structure in shade. Where a door might've been was now covered in vines like a nature prison cell. Was that the famous mausoleum from the story? Your form walked up and pushed the nearly roots apart enough to poke your head in. Only to cough and sneeze at the amount of dust accumulated inside. But there was nothing inside. Not even a body.

So that proved there was nothing here. Whelp. That debunks everything everyone else said. Wrestling with the roots until you were able to pull your head out  and relax back. Now that your curious itch was satisfied, you could leave and never look back. This place was creepy even in the daytime. You turned to leave, grass crunching under your feet as you took a few steps- 

"Who are you?" You immediately jumped with a gasp looking around wildly for whoever talked. "Up here."

You looked up and paused. Up on top of the mausoleum was a man. A very BEAUTIFUL man. Soft looking white flowed down his shoulders and broad muscles tensed up from where he kneeled on top of the ancient structure looking at you. His clothes fit him in such a way that reminded you of old ninja uniforms seen in some history books from school, but what struck you the most was the magenta eyes that seemed to be staring right through you. 

"Who are you?," he repeated making you jump.

"Oh! I uh-..I just wanted to look around and..stuff!"

"Uh huh." His eyes narrowed more looking you up and down before stopping on your side eyed face again. Seeming to calculate something in his mind.. before smiling. "Well you know what they say." He quickly switched from a kneeling position to a sitting one with his legs hanging over the side of the structure and scooted further into the shade, head in one hand. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Your brow rose at him. "And who are you?"

"Uzui. Tengen Uzui. You happen to be trespassing on my territory lady, so I can ask you the same thing."

"Territory?" You looked around again at the creepy damaged old graves. Who'd want this as their property "No offense but have you seen where you are?"

"Every day and night but Im curious now. Why are YOU?"

"Huh? Oh. I'm Y/n. Look. I didn't mean to bother you-" You held up your hands and took a step back. "-and I'm sorry but I should really get back before someone worries about me."

"Why would they worry about you? It's not like these dead people can hurt you."

"Well you're not going to believe me if I told you."

"Try me. You'd be surprised by what I've seen in my lifetime."

"Well they say this place is crawling with vampires."

Instead of laughing at you or looking at you like you were crazy, he hummed again and smiled wider. "Vampires. You don't say."

"Yep. That's why I was here. I came to see if anything was here but there's nothing. Just a fairytale like everything else I've been told."

"Not true. There's me and I happen to be rather flamboyant if I do say so myself!~" he purred gesturing to his muscles and making you snicker.

"Yeah. Right. Well I'd better be going. It was nice to meet you. Sorry for trespassing."

"Hey. Wait a minute." A loud thud sound went off as he pushed himself off and landed on his feet, and you gawked at how much taller he was than you were. Smiling still. "It's been a long time since anyone else visited me and it's pretty lonely up here." His hand gestured to the far left. "My wives and I have an estate just a little away from here. Why don't you come back to visit tomorrow?"

You blinked again. "An estate? I thought everything up here was abandoned.years ago."

"Right. I bet they say that it's haunted too."

"Is it?"

"No. But sometimes my best buddy comes by." He smiled at you in an almost joking way. "He's a Kitsune spirit. Even has a flashy shrine in the town over."

You couldn't help but giggle. "Ok. Sure. It'd be nice to visit someone knew. I'll come by next week since I'm not busy that day."

"GREAT! I'll have my wives fix you a feast! It's been years but my Suma can make a delicious shishkabob outta venison and veggies! I used to eat it all the time."

You didn't know what you've done that day. Waving goodbye as you climbed back over the wall. You didn't see him yawn before climbing back up the tree to rest again making sure to avoid the sunlight peeking in through the leaves. 

You did end up coming back next week without telling anyone. Past the cemetery and even further past it. You were surprised to find a small mansion in the middle of the woods right smack dab in a clearing. You guessed that someone must've moved in and fixed up the place. You ended up knocking on the door which slid open and you were met with pink eyes blinking in surprise. 

"Oh my...He wasn't kidding when he said you were coming" she sounded surprised but opened the door widely beckoning you inside. "Please come in! We've been expecting you."

"Thanks! Are you Suma?"

"No. I'm Hinatsuru but it's so good to see someone new! We don't have much visitors."

Hinatsuru. And the other two wives Makio and Suma. They were all so different from each other and Mr. Uzui was there too happily smiling and talking to you. With the food they promised you. It was so good! But they didn't eat anything. 

"We ate before you came to visit us, so don't worry about it."

That didn't bother you. Nor did it bother you when Tengen offered to walk you home  once it got too dark. Your parents weren't worried since they didn't worry about you going out (they had no idea that you went near the graveyard) and were surprised seeing the stunningly beautiful man standing in the doorway.

"Charmed I'm sure!" He posed making your mother even blush. "Tengen Uzui.~ I know we just met but I think I want to start courting your daughter. With your permission of course ~"

That's how the entire thing began. Almost as if your parents were hypnotized by him. They agreed much to your shock and you were suddenly counted by not only the beautiful man but his three beautiful wives. It certainly does seem like something out of a fairytale having so many beautiful people fond over you. 

Especially when he kissed you for the first time. A blush coating his face as you held his cheeks. Surprisingly cold lips kissed yours. And then your cheeks. And then chin. And then stopping at your neck. Eyes going slit feeling the rush of pulsing blood under sharpened teeth. 

"So beautiful. You're so beautiful. So flamboyant. So M I N E.~"

"T-Tengen? W-What are you doing?" His hug suddenly got tighter.

"It's alright, Princess. It'll only hurt for a second." You were suddenly aware of the adoring smiles on the wives faces as fangs poked out from between lips. "After all, a vampire's kiss is eternal.~"

[cipher-grailwar]

Cipher Holy Grail War - Wave 2, Day 2 - (Saber, Assassin, Berserker)

There were intruders in the castle. The Assassin sighed, putting down her tablet pen and kicking away an empty cardboard box.

OSAKABEHIME: "Ugh. Won't even let me finish the screentones. Guess I'll have to get to work… whatever gets them out of here the fastest."

The young knight bravely marched through the, frankly, incredibly intimidating palace grounds. It seemed like there were eyes watching her from every inch of the building.

GARETH: "Brr. Spooky… and the air in this place is stifling, it's like I'm being weighed down… but there are enemies ahead, so I'll have to push through!"

She stopped, as phantasmal soldiers began to approach her.

Her name was a blank to the phantasmal soldiers- but her essence was clear enough to invoke their ire. A knight that was no stranger to battles- that had marched in the glorious name of a king, and had killed for said king as well. A warrior had added members to their bloody ranks, as the knights began to close in with an enraged rumble.

BERSERKER SOLDIERS: "▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅▂▃..."

However, the bright Saber was unaware of the internal logistics of the warriors approaching her, and only responded in the face of hostiles.

The air shifted, as a massive, ghostly form manifested.

OSAKABEHIME: "Humans, you dare to step within the domain of the Assassin? This is a sin you shall pay gravely for, as I rend you--"

OSAKABEHIME: "(Oh, chotto a minute, pause the monologue-- where's my phone? I should take some pics of the blondie before she gets cursed to death… 'cute lady knights' never go out of style~~ snap-snap! Okay, so where was I…)"

OSAKABEHIME: "--rend you into pieces, cursing you for a thousand, thousand years. Your souls shall never know rest, I declare it so!"

The young knight readied her sword, preparing herself for battle.

GARETH: "So, that's Assassin! Use all the magic you want, summon all the familiars you need- I'll definitely prevail! I won't let my Masters down!"

…Familiars.

There was an entire ghostly army marching about the entirety of the palace grounds that the Assassin had nothing to do with- because it was the works of a whole other Servant.

OSAKABEHIME: "…Familiars? I mean, yes, my familiars. OBVIOUSLY. These wild spirits roaming the halls belong to me, and should also strike fear within your heart! Only by striking at them, may you even earn the right to truly harm me! Ohohohoho~!"

OSAKABEHIME: "(…Who the heck are these guys and why are they trying to haunt my haunted house?!)"

All three Servants are unharmed! Osakabehime has a boost to Playing Defensively due to her choices last round!

The skill boosts are...

Saber: -4%

Assassin: +3%

Berserker: +2%

SKILLS:

GARETH

TRAIT: When engaging another Servant 1-on-1, they get +3% to their combat poll results. When engaged in a Free-for-All, they gain a +2% boost.

Gareth Beaumains (B Rank) - Her Saber-Class trait for 1-on-1 battles increases from 3% to 5%, and from 2% to 3% for Free-for-All's. When she takes damage, she gains a +2% offensive boost the following round that is not impacted by demerits.

Battle Continuation (C Rank) - When taking a mortal blow, Gareth can survive with one wound remaining, and she gains a +8% boost for the following round. This can only be activated once.

OSAKABEHIME

TRAIT: If they pick a Servant that isn’t targeted by anyone else, they get +5% to their combat poll results, and cannot be ambushed when Playing Defensively.

Castle Apparition (A++ Rank) - When within the confines of her domain, Osakabehime is the ruling force. If attacked while 'Playing Defensively', her enemies take a -5% demerit, and she gains a +2% boost. However, her Assassin-trait offensive passive is reduced from +5% to +3%... going out to find enemies is not her ideal strategy.

Chiyogami Manipulation Techniques (EX Rank) - The ability to make origami familiars to fight for her. She gains a +2% in Free-for-Alls, and boosts from studying enemies is increased by +1% than the usual bonuses.

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER

TRAIT: If engaged in a 1-on-1 fight with another Servant, they get +5% to their final combat poll results, and when engaged in a Free-for-All, they inflict a -2% demerit on their enemies as well.

True Name Discernment (Warlord) (D) - An aggression and awareness targeted towards those who commanded others to their deaths. When fighting against specific enemies, their boost changes.

Tier 1 (Against Archer, ???) - +4% Tier 2 (Against Lancer, Saber) - +2% Tier 3 (Against Assassin, ???) - +1%

The 'tier' a Servant falls into is revealed upon engaging with them the first time. In a Free-for-All, this does not stack- only the highest boost is applied.

Despite the clear malice of the Assassin, they have a lower sense of aggression towards her as compared to the knightly Saber. Saber falls within 'Tier 2', while Assassin falls within 'Tier 3'.

Madness Enhancement (Distributed) (A) - Each time a body is lost (as in, when damage is taken), they gain a +3% boost to their damage. They also get 1 more 'health' than other Servants... however, they cannot use Command Spells to restore health. (Current Boost: 0%)

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I feel kinda greedy asking for two requests in one go, but what the hell! I mentioned this in another ask before, but… Reader Domming OG Freddy? 👀 As much as I want him to ruin me, I want to ruin him too 👀

Okay! Hi! Sorry you sent this a long fucking time ago, but here it is now! I was in the mood to write domming Freddy and so here we are! I am so happy with how it came out and I hope you adore it! Let's get going!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 6.3K. Freddy Krueger X GN! Pussy Having Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Warnings: Canon Typical Reader Torture. Sleep Deprivation. Physical Fight. Blood. Gore. Bones Breaking. Face Sitting. Dirty Talking. Threat Of Violence (To Him). Threat Of Death (To Him.). Dom/Sub Dynamics. Domming Freddy. Topping Freddy. Struggle For Control. Hand Job. Riding. Orgasm Denial. Degradation (To Him.). Multiple Orgasms. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Begging.

---

Control.

---

You are not the first person to best him, and if he comes back, which to be honest judging from other accounts you’ve found, he always does, you will not be the last either, but you do think you have a shot at being the first person to take advantage of him in this way once you’ve beat him down. 

If anyone else has, they at least haven’t bragged about it online, if this works you haven’t decided if you will.

From meeting him, to the time we are about to focus on now, it has been about a week total, and you think it might have been the longest week of your life, no contest. Sleep deprivation fucking blows, being haunted and hunted in your dreams and faced with your worst nightmares seemingly endlessly is worse still, dodging death while tangled in your sheets naturally takes the cake. It is lucky you are such a fighter, refusing to give in. The turning point comes from an unexpected moment of clarity, the realization that you are ultimately in control, that is the secret, the key, to use what you have at your disposal to get him in line and get with the program, that YOU are in control, not him. 

Dreams happen in your head, right? So that means he has to be inside your head to do all he does, at least some part of him anyway, meaning Freddy is merely a guest, he should be bending to your will and decisions when between the walls of your skull, thus, the upper hand is passed onto you. 

Going to bed that night, you are determined, confident, you give him the run around and break him down, show him that his power no longer holds purchase here. You aren’t in the boiler room, instead you’ve changed the venue to your house, a show of just how much control you have, the physical fight was rough and exhilarating, your knuckles ache, stained with his blood, you are heaving, standing above his form. He doesn’t look scared, but he does look weak, tired, It's strange to see a being like him tired. He is bleeding onto kitchen tile, thick red mess down his chin and staining into that filthy sweater. 

“Not getting back up?” You ask with a small cock of your head and, he coughs, more strings of blood being hacked up before he jokes wetly, “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” 

Once you had gotten him on the ground you had kicked him in the stomach every time he tried to make a serious move, he knew at this point it is hopeless unless he comes up with something big to regain his power, fat fucking chance of that happening now that you figured him out.

A grin spreads onto your face, you adopt that tone he used many times against you in the previous days, mocking and condescending, “Awe, no? I thought we were having fun.” 

He rolls his eyes, sighing out, voice sounding extremely rough, “Yeah, tons.” 

Letting out a laugh as you drop your fists from your initial fighting position as you tell him, “You know, you really are funny.” Rolling your neck as you continue to observe him, “I didn’t appreciate it before but retroactively? You are hilarious, honestly.”

Now is the part where you kill him, send him off to Hell for a few months or maybe years if you are lucky, until he claws his way out and finds his way back to you or someone else to terrorize, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, yet. Looking at him now like this, you think that you could put him to better use before that happens. 

A brief thought of, “Let’s test the limits.” 

You extend your leg, he flinches briefly, and you laugh, loud, a shake of your head, “Calm, down, I’m not going to kick you…Again.”

Your bare foot hooks in the hem of his sweater, and you push it up, exposing the scarred flesh of his stomach to you, a curious hum as you take it in, you wonder if he is burned everywhere. You want to find out for yourself. The bottom of your foot slips up his torso, the texture of his skin is fascinating in addition to being blazing hot, you wonder how it would feel against the palm of your hand, or other parts of you. He is looking dazed and hurt as he watches you, confused, he speaks up, “What the fuck are you-”

A quick move, like you are about to slam your heel down into his stomach, and he stiffens automatically, you stop just short with another laugh. “To answer your question, I am doing whatever I want, and you are gonna let me, hm? Because you can’t stop me, much as you might want to.” 

He says nothing. You continue meandering and exploring, toes skim down to the top of his pants, then lower, and lower still, resting your arch against the half hard bulge, you apply pressure and ask, “What’s this?”

The question is rhetorical, he must know this because he doesn’t respond, you know exactly what it is, but fucking with him is fun. You have already put him in quite a predicament, and you want to make it worse, so you do. Flexing your foot, curling your toes, you play with him over the rough brown material that makes up his pants in earnest. Everything here is now being dictated by you, the same way when he was in control he could fuck with the environment to influence your fear, make it worse, feel so thick it was practically choking you, now you can do the same, with a different kind of feeling, namely, lust. 

It is practically no time at all until he is fully hard and straining in his pants. He is much more tense, looking up at you with half lidded eyes, still very confused but into this, breathing harder, bloody lips parted, you can practically feel him throbbing through his pants.

“Freddy, you freak-” You grind your foot down into him and his breath catches, his hips grind up once, “-you are fucking into this.”

“So what?” He barks out with what sounds like renewed fight, you rock your foot against him as you say gleefully, “Just never would have thought you had a foot fetish, is all!” 

“I’m not-” He starts to complain, but you don’t let him, you bend your knee, resting your arm on it, putting significantly more weight on him, a groan of more pain than pleasure spills forth, and you hum out, “Sorry, couldn’t quite get that.” 

You move your foot off of him, feeling the thrum of power through you budding into excitement as you watch him exhale in relief. This asshole has tormented you for a week straight, and you are going to get your payback, your way. 

Snapping your fingers and utilizing those invisible restraints he favours so much, it isn’t hard to summon them, you lock his wrists to the tiles they are resting on near his hips, you say easily, “So you don’t try anything funny.” 

He tries to lift his arms, struggles helplessly, seemingly annoyed and angry at this development, he is such a brat. Breaking him is going to be so fun. 

You start to remove the pajama pants you wore to bed, telling him, “You are going to use your mouth for something useful for once.” Your pants and underwear forgotten on the tile, you step over him, position yourself just so and then get down so both of your knees are on either side of his head. You lower your hips, sitting on his face, his hot skin brushing your inner thighs and the twisted gnarled flesh of his lips making contact makes you inhale harder than necessary. He doesn’t start eating you out yet, apparently he needs more encouragement.

“If you do a good job, you’ll get off too, I promise.” You coax with a roll of your hips, and he seems to get with the program. 

“You fuckin’ better.” He threatens, but it doesn’t land as it should when he has been beaten bloody by your own hands and is chained to the floor.

His lips part wider, his tongue slips out and runs up through your folds for the first time, causing you to start to curl inward from the warmth of pleasure sparking through your core. It doesn’t take that long for him to get into it, as if tasting warm fresh cunt on his tongue increases the arousal in him, turning from an easy simmer to a boil.

He licks at your drooling hole, the tip of his tongue teasing the idea of slipping inside, but he doesn’t, instead in favour of drawing indiscernible patterns on the way up to your throbbing clit, once reaching it he circles it once, twice, three times before dragging down again. He starts to set a pattern like this, each time he is low enough he licks minutely deeper into your grasping hole, and every time he is back to focusing on your clit he provides a few more circles.

Freddy is surprisingly good at this, better than you expected him to be, you are breathing heavier and moaning steadily, “There you go-” You rock against his eager mouth and continue speaking, “-this is happening, so you might as well enjoy it.”

He moans against your pussy, and you feel his body shifting, you hope he isn’t still struggling in an attempt to get away, you look over your shoulder and instead see him rocking his hips up. Awe, the poor guy is hard as Hell and clearly dying for any sort of stimulation. A fleeting idea of showing some mercy takes root.

You reach down and smack him on his head, his hat had fallen away in the earlier scuffle, and say, “Stop for a second.” He grumbles but complies, his head resting on the tile as he looks up the length of your body, trying to discern what you are doing.

Lifting your hips up for a moment, you shiver from the cold air hitting your spit soaked cunt, you turn your torso enough and reach back and open his pants, he hisses out a breath in the relief from the pressure, and you ask, “Better?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out, and you are too curious, so you decide to keep going, you force his pants down his hips and then his thighs exposing him just as much as you are, his dick bobbing free, and you suppress a gasp. 

“Holy shit.” You utter, forget about the size and thickness, which is more than ample, you are distracted by the fact that yes the burns do extend everywhere. You think about taking the extremely textured and ribbed dick as deep as possible, clenching on it and yeah, you are definitely going to ride the absolute fuck out of him. 

“Impressed?” He asks, that cocky and confident air to him is back, and you scoff, flicking the tip of his dick with your nail making him release a restrained a yelp, “Hardly, now shut the fuck up.”

You turn your body back the right way and lower yourself back onto his mouth, “Hurry up and get back to it, I’m not even thinking about putting that inside me till you make me cum.” 

Hearing a voice echo in your head, he responds with no small amount of venom in his tone, “Whatever you say, your majesty.” 

Of course, only he could still be able to talk even when he is being smothered by pussy. No complaints are able to find purchase though when he eats this well, instead you swirl your hips, mashing his lips and tongue against you, effectively fucking his face as you grind, “I happen to like what that title implies,-” You murmur breathlessly as sensation sweeps through you once more, finishing your thought with a single word, “-worship.”

Stilling once more and allowing him to get back to what he was doing previously, but he changes it up again, it is like he is taking what you said to heart. You think he is doing it to show you he can, not because he genuinely wants to actually worship you, but it doesn’t matter to you because it feels incredible, why would you give a shit if he is doing it “ironically” or not?

He moans unapologetically as he eats you this round, deep licks and filthy kisses, you didn’t realize a person could pour so much passion into presses of lips and slippery moves of a tongue, yet he is doing it. If it’s fake, he is a good actor. 

His mouth closes around the highly sensitive tissue of your clit, surrounding it in warm wet heat that feels so incredible and exactly what you need that you want to rock your hips forward to somehow get deeper. You muse momentarily, half mourning the fact you don’t have a fully functional dick to shove down his throat. 

He provides perfect suction, the pulses of the action make you twitch in response, legs jerking involuntarily, until it starts to feel a tad too much, and without even having to communicate that, it stops. Now he is choosing to continue to cradle it between his lips, focusing up with his tongue, the soft wet tip circles over it again and again, you lose yourself in it, feel the beginning building of your climax low in your stomach. 

Just when you think it can’t get better it changes again, he stops circling, instead tracing up the left side, and somehow the right? At the exact same time, a furrowing of your brow as you look down at him, a question on your lips, a soft, “What the fuck?” 

And the response echos off the walls of your mind, an easy response of, “Two is better than one, right?” 

He opens his mouth wider and only stops licking your clit to show off his unnaturally long and shapeshifted tongue that he had split in half, able to work both sides independently and box your clit in, work both sides of it at once. You’ve seen pictures and videos of people who get a split tongue body mod, and of course you’ve always been curious what it would feel like to get eaten out by someone who has it, and here he is, providing it. 

“Oh my fucking God.” You can’t help how awed you sound. You are unreasonably turned on by him doing this, altering his physical form to simply pleasure you better, all you can think is that this was totally the right move, the smartest thing you’ve ever done. He has seen your reaction and how it’s effected you, and he looks unbearably smug for a moment. Your hand comes to his forehead, nails digging into scarred grooves, using it for something to hold onto, and you slam yourself back down onto his mouth, demanding, “Keep fucking going.” 

You need him to acknowledge that you are the one topping him, you are in control, he is simply meant to be used for your enjoyment, and you aren’t going to let him forget it for a second.

Working your hips in tandem with his mouth as he picks up where he left off, your clit is trapped between his now forked tongue, and you can feel your end approaching quickly, like his tongue is squeezing and strangling your orgasm out the bundle of nerves. You are going to cum quick if he keeps it up, a spectacular explosion of feeling that you are practically aching for, fucks sake you are dripping on his chin right now. Moaning loudly, panting out a string of, “Yes, fuck, oh my-” is what telegraphs that you are on the edge of cumming and that is when he stops. 

His mouth goes slack, tongue pulls back, no contact, and is this guy in his current state seriously trying to edge you? 

“You like that?” He is laughing around the question and under your slick pussy, and you are not having it. With the hand that is planted on his head, you lift it up and then slam it back down onto the tile, he lets out this pained groan, but that isn’t enough. Fuelled by sheer frustration and anger that he would attempt this, challenge your control, the next choice was an easy one to make. Lifting your hips up, moving back so you are more straddling his neck, he is still laughing, albeit much weaker, eyes closed when you wind up and then punch him. This hit lands right on his nose, and you swear you feel it break under the force, crumpling inward from the blunt force trauma delivered by your knuckles.

The amount of blood that was on his face before was laughable in comparison to now, as the rivers of red run down over his lips and the lower half of his face. He is dazed again, breathing shallow and groaning in pain, no longer laughing, as he asks nearly choking, “What the fuck?!”

You spit down at him, “Don’t you dare try to pull that fucking shit again, or I won’t stop till your face caves in.” 

Scooting up, you speak again, threatening him harshly, “And don’t try to bite me, or I will yank every tooth you have out.”

You settle down onto his mouth, the blood coating it slippery and hot, nudging his lips open more with a rock of your hips, and he continues to lay there and you sigh. Guess he needs some extra incentive. Hand still locked onto the top of his head, your other one comes down, and you pinch his nose, holding it closed, and he is squirming again, in no doubt a lot of pain. You adjust, force more weight onto the lower half of his face, sealing his mouth flush against you, “I’m not moving until you make me cum, I don’t care if you fucking suffocate under me.” 

His eyes have what appears to be a genuine wash of fear, you feel even more powerful than you did earlier, “Choice is yours Freddy, don’t think I won’t follow through.” 

You don’t think he actually needs to breathe, but he does, you’ve seen it, felt the steamy exhales against your skin, you think whoever is in charge can dictate what things like that mean. Threatening to smother him with your cunt? He is effected enough in this state to make the possibility a potential reality. No wonder he is so fucked up and does what he does, it’s a total power trip being able to do this to someone. 

He must believe your threat because he is back to giving it his all, frantic movements trying to rush you there, and it does feel good, but you are far enough from the edge that it isn’t what you want. You crave to draw this out.  

“Slow down, it’s not a race!” You dig your nails into his scalp and his eyes crinkle at the sides, a show of the pain he is feeling between your two points of contact.

“Take a deep fucking breath.” You utter condescendingly as you release your strong grip, and he does, sucks down a deep breath that seems painful though his broken nose before you plug it once more. Prompting again in the same tone a hard ass manager might use to debase a low level employee, “Try again.” 

You can practically feel the strange mixture of anger and fear, radiating off of him, but he complies, and as he starts to get back into it, you feel arousal joining the concoction emanating from him. He works you up beautifully again, the two halves of his tongue stroking you perfectly, the extremely sloppy mess of his spit and blood and your slick providing what might be the best lube you have ever felt as he eats. 

“There you go-” You pant out, shifting your hips, thoroughly back into the mood, letting your guard down enough to trust he isn’t going to edge you again, giving yourself over to it. The ride to the top is much faster this time, it is threatening to make your head spin as you get closer to breaking apart. 

He has this fantastic rhythm going, the right and left sides of your clit traced, then stroked fully right on top, followed by a suck of his bloodstained lips, over and over and each move gets you nearer to the edge. All in all it takes three minutes, you let him get down one breath through his ruined nose roughly once every minute.

He is clearly starved for oxygen, needs more than these single breaths you’ve been permitting, but you are nearly done, you tell him as such, “Almost there, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, yes!” 

It happens, tension finally releases, and you cum, shuddering on top of him and crying out a series of curses, and he doesn’t stop, sees you through your end until you are lifting away with shaking thighs, escaping the overstimulation and letting go of his nose. You are sitting back on his chest as he is sucking down deep breaths, same as you are. Once you feel more calmed down, you compliment him, “Good job, took way too much convincing for you to see it through to the end, but at least coaching you was fun.”

The smile on your face bares your teeth as you flex your hand that had punched him, splattered with now dried blood. 

“Yeah, s’ been a blast.” He grumbles, he is still into this and trying to hide it, he is failing.

You feel much better, still turned on but not totally on fire any longer, you are ready and primed to ride him into oblivion. With a turn of your head, you see that he is rock hard, even more so than earlier, it looks like it hurts, the head of his dick is shiny with pre-cum, and you cannot stop the laugh that rings out, delighted at the view. 

“Fuck me, you loved all of that.” You get up to reposition, and with a snap of your fingers his pants are gone, now he is just in that stupid fucking sweater that is pulled up high, you get onto your knees between his legs, eyeing his dick resting against his stomach. You reach out, hand wraps around his shaft, and he stiffens immediately with an inhale, and it is shocking, you didn’t think dicks could get this hard. 

An experimental stroke and he responds immediately with a moan, your thumb swipes over his tip, earning another, leading you to ask, “That good?”

He opens his mouth to retort and, you tighten your grip, a good downward stroke of his dick instead, making the most shattered sound yet break out. 

He shoots you a chilly glare in response, you can tell just what he is thinking without him projecting it, “Fucking bitch.”, but you pay it no mind at all. Why would you continue to jerk him off when it only benefits him? Especially when you can slide him home and get your own enjoyment at the same time. 

You haven’t removed the shirt you wore to bed yet, feeling it stick to your back from sweat, you take it off, leaving you naked at last. A quick glance down and between your thighs was a wreck from all the fluids from him eating you out. You aren’t done, though, you want to make the mess bigger.

“I’ll be nice, I think you’ve waited long enough.” You swing your leg over and with one hand gripping his shaft you align him with your more than ready entrance. 

The moment itself happens quickly and with little outward fanfare, you don’t drag it out as you take him in, but it does feel monumental internally. On the outside, you let out what might be the softest gasp possible, eyes widen slightly, inside? You feel like you might melt from how hot he feels, the girth of him splits you wide and the length bottoms out, the tip kissing your cervix, he fills you completely when you’ve taken him to the base. You don’t take time to adjust, you immediately start to move, sliding him out halfway and feel how he drags against your walls, and it is maddeningly good.

He has a different reaction, his hands clench into fists, eyes roll back with a moan and his hips arch to meet you in the middle on the second thrust, it draws an unexpected moan from you, but you can’t have that. Your hands come down and hold his waist firmly, “Stay still unless you want me to fucking pop you in the mouth again.”

He listens but grouses, “Fuck, fine.”

You ride him for your own enjoyment, not his, meaning you lean further forward, adjust, so every thrust in hits that perfect spot inside and every drag out has you grinding your clit on his pubic bone. The really delicious thing about this, other than how incredible it feels for you, is it is just a tease for him. You are not fucking him traditionally, not bouncing up and down sliding him almost totally out just to drag him back in, stimulating all of his dick from tip to the base of his shaft, instead the way you are going about it, moving back and forth about two inches gives you all that you need while denying him. Meaning poor Freddy is wrapped in your hot plush wet walls, hugged and enveloped without getting any real stimulation that could lead to him cumming. 

Using his dick as your own personal living dildo, you abuse both spots completely, ignoring the increasing frustration mounting in him, too busy having a fantastic time, you make sure he knows, loudly, “Oh my Goddd-”

He takes the treatment for only around two minutes until he attempts to thrust upwards, get some proper stimulation, and you tighten your grip, forcing him back down, breathing out, “No way, this isn’t about you.” 

There is a low growl in the back of his throat, you don’t let it throw you even for a second because what can he do about all this? Not a damn thing other than this, he talks back, “Let me help-”

You slow your pace only slightly as you let out a sound that is a mix of a laugh and a moan, “Ha! I don’t think so.” 

The slick walls of you are baring down on him, starting to clench tighter as you approach your second orgasm of the evening at a very quick rate, he groans annoyed, rushing out, “It’ll be worth your while.” 

“Doubtful.” You pant, feeling so superior as you are getting the sense that he doesn’t want to be left behind, wants to cum too. You aren’t going to let him, torturing him like this is too good. 

Continuing riding him in your preferred manner becomes harder, your movements lose grace and finesse, sloppier as you are approaching your end. He gets as close to begging as you think he is able to, “Come on, fuck!” 

No heed paid, just a shake of your head and a strangled cry as the last pieces connect, and you cum, shuddering on top of him. He groans, feeling your walls spasm rhythmically on his aching shaft over and over, awash in sensation for what must feel like an eternity for poor Freddy.

You were right, cumming on his dick feels incredible, having something to clench on while in the height of ecstasy, you think you have the energy for one more. Panting while seated on top of him, throbbing and sweat slick, the back of your hand swipes over your forehead, and you finally look down at him. He looks less than impressed. 

“Feel good?” He asked and you laugh, “Very.” 

“Sure seemed like it.” He bites, and you decide to give him an offer, adjusting you get off your knees, instead flat on your feet to do this better, hands on off of him and onto your knees, “How about this-” moving your hips once more, sliding him almost totally out before taking him to the base, he sucks an inhale through his teeth. Pleasure washing over his features, you continue your train of thought, another couple of bounces accompanying it, “-I wanna cum again, so, you try to convince me to let you get off too.”

“Are you serious?” He asked, tone flat, and you press as you stop moving, “As the dead. Come on, Freddy, you love to talk! And I’ve heard how fucking filthy that mouth is, this should be easy for you.” 

The staring contest between you and him stretches onward for nearly half a minute before he breaks, “Fine, fucks sake.” 

“Good! Glad I didn’t have to knock some more sense into you till you agreed.” You start to move again, and he immediately breathes out a curse before the stream of dirty talk starts up. The torrent of all he has been feeling begins to pour from between his lips, and fucking Hell does it fuel you. It begins with, “It doesn’t make sense-” 

His head is resting against the tile, fists clenched as the sound of the backs of your thighs hitting his hips rings out, panting, “-how the fuck do you feel this good?”

He sounds like he really believes that, is baffled by it. You taunt him, asking it with an extra hard move downwards, “What? Never had pussy like this before, Freddy?” 

He tries to scoff, but it reads as more of a moan, “Fuck, didn’t say that, but it’s been a while.” 

A pleasured sigh as you tease, “Damn, you mean you don’t have people banging down your door, begging to get destroyed by you?”

“It’s not usually what I’m after from the people I hunt.” He snaps, and you fire back, “Yeah, I’m sure you could get all the ass you want if you tried.”

“I could.” He asserts, the back and forth, the fight shared stokes the fire in you, but it could be better, pivoting the conversation you say, “Fun as this is, aren’t you supposed to be convincing me why I should let you cum?”

Biting his tongue he listens, thinking for only a moment until you slow down, then he rushes out, “Remember how fucking good it felt when you let me get my tongue between those thighs?”

You hum fondly, of course you do, nodding, and he adds, “Imagine what I could do if you let me have some more control.” 

A compelling start to the argument, it’ll take a lot more to get you to buy in, “Don’t you want someone else to make you feel good? Be able to take it a bit easier, not worry about doing all this, just take it.” 

It has appeal, you must admit, he is still talking, trying to appeal to you, “Come on, give me a fucking chance.”

The pitch of his moans and breathing is matching yours, actually riding him like this is getting to him, clearly he is loving it and honestly, you are too, the angle you have is hitting that spot internally that makes sweat bead behind your knees and shudder from the intensity. You think that is all what convinces you, makes you say, “Fine, prove it.” 

Hands resting on your knees, you stop moving and level him with a pointed look, “Go for it, show me you aren’t all talk Krueger.” 

He doesn’t waste time, a rock of his hips, fucking up from below with a shocking amount of strength, and the moan that it tears from your throat is loud, surprised. He makes a promise that sounds sincere, “I’ll show you, alright.” 

You kept the angle just right for yourself, and so every upward thrust is mind breakingly good. Thank God, he can back it up, all the build up and frustration, the teasing, everything is culminating in this, it feels like the best hate fuck possible. 

You give yourself over to it, hungry, you love that you had led him to this point, broken him down enough to be your anger powered fuck toy just in the vague hopes of cumming himself, everything happening here tonight is at your prompting. It could be better still, you move with him, help him, meet him in the middle, slamming down as he fucks up, your hand slips off your knee and falls between your legs, tight circles rubbed over your clit and Christ you would not be long.

He is talking more than enough for both of you, curses, hatred, blended with resentful praise, “I fucking hate you so much, I hate how good this cunt feels, hugs me so tight, ugh, I wanna cum in it till you overflow.” 

That does get a response out of you, a moan and an ask of, “You want to cum in me?” 

He is just as far gone, the impassioned meeting of your bodies still ringing out as he is agreeing with a furious nod, “Yeah, fuck yeah I do.” 

You tease him for what must be the millionth time tonight, fingers stimulating you outside picking up speed, “I dunnooo-” 

A small shake of his head as he bargains, “C’mon, don’t be a bitch, you know it would feel fuck-ing amazing for you too.” 

You are sure it would, but just because he worded it that way, you want to be a bitch at least one last time. He is starting to get close just like you are, can feel the tension coiling in him, you mutter, “It would.” 

A quick lick over his lips, he is getting desperate as he gets closer, “Yeah, it would, fuck, yes-” 

You time it just right, giving it another minute, until you are about to cum and sure that he is on the edge too. Your other hand comes off your knee and slams into his lower stomach, holding him tight to the ground and stopping him from thrusting up, you hold mid-bounce, he is buried halfway inside as your other hand continues rubbing your straining clit. He is panting and confused for only a few seconds until he catches on and speaks, “Fuck, wait! Stop, don’t cum without m-”

You were so close that you are cumming in the less than half a minute that has passed, fingers slip and slide over yourself, drawing out your peak, other hand firm and preventing him from moving even a quarter of an inch inside of you. As you cum, moaning all the while in the midst of your high, he groans in dismay, the clenching of your cunt is not enough to make him cum, leaving him stranded on the edge, his own orgasm slipping further and further from between his fingers. 

You haven’t even come down from your orgasm, fingers lift off yourself, and you get off your feet, sink back onto your knees and take him to the base, he gasps being totally enveloped in you once more. Blowing a stray strand of hair off your face you say, “Well fuck, this was so fun, but I guess-” 

He immediately picks up what you are doing, about to leave him stuck to the floor, hard as Hell and not finishing him off and he in a surprising turn of events he begs, “Fuck, please, I’m still so close, just finish me before you go.” 

Please. The great dream demon himself, Freddy fucking Krueger, said please. 

Another pulse of heat runs through you, breath catching before you ask, “Did you just say please?” 

He looks like he doesn’t want to admit it, but he does, he must want to cum very badly, “Yeah, I did.” 

You reward him with a single rise and fall of your hips, he moans anew, and you encourage him, demanding, “Say it again.” 

A brief look of confusion, but he murmurs it, “Please?” 

You repeat the previous motion, harder, and ask it softer, sweeter, kinder, “Again?” 

He catches on quickly and that is what it becomes, with every single time he pants out the word you give him another rock of your body, taking him almost completely out before taking him back in, from tip to base, over and over. It is just the sound of heaving breaths, skin on skin, and Freddy gasping out the word, “Please.” 

You think you love the word please more than any other when he is saying it like this, desperate to cum and pussy drunk. Once he gets with the program, he is on the edge again in two minutes, “Fuck, please, gonna cum, don’t stop, please, please, please-”

And this time you don’t. You’ve fully dominated the big bad demon, beat him, made him debase himself for your enjoyment, used him over and over for your own pleasure, rode him into the floor and made him beg for his own release, he has earned it. A final drop of your hips and that last please breaks off into your name as he cums, true to his earlier word his cum does overflow, slips out even with him held deep, it is blissfully hot as he paints your insides. You stay until he stops throbbing and shuddering. 

When you do get up, your legs are shaking and his cum spills down your inner thighs from the sheer amount. 

You observe the broken man under you, bloody, sweaty and messy with slick and cum too, his sweater is even more disgusting than usual. “Well, tonight turned out way better than I hoped.” 

He hums low, and you nudge him with your foot, “You had a good time, admit it.” 

“Yeah, fuck it, sure.” His tone is flat, post orgasm and some semblance of shame washing over him now that the haze of arousal has cleared. You give him one last offer, “What do you think? Leave you alive so we can do it again?”

What choice does he have?

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien Masterlist

Multichapter Fics

Shackled (E) - Elain x Lucien

WIP, 5/10 chapters, ~21,000 words *ON HIATUS* Summary: "One thing was clear to her about this predicament: Lucien was furious." An enchanted pair of handcuffs. A prank gone wrong. A bottle of whiskey. This was turning out to be the most awkward Winter Solstice for Elain and Lucien yet. A gift for ALDBooks for the ACOTAR Gift Exchange 2024.

Carrion Flowers (M) - Elain x Lucien

Complete, 6/6 chapters, ~37,000 words Summary: AU - Detective Lucien Vanserra has been sent to Sunset Hollow to solve a grisly murder. Cunning and skeptical, he is determined not to allow superstition and hearsay amuse him from the truth. However, the town is whispering of witches, and one suspected witch by the name of Elain Archeron haunts his dreams and his heart .

Summer Heat (E)- Elain x Lucien, Eris x Alexius (Male OC)

Complete, 18/18 chapters, 114,890 words Summary: Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years. Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (M) - Elain x Lucien, collab with @crazy-ache

Complete, 13/13 chapters, ~28,000 words Summary: Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Burn Forever With Me (E) - Elain x Lucien

Complete, 13/13 chapters, ~69,000 words Summary: End of ACOSF. After Feyre's traumatic birth, Elain writes to Lucien seeking comfort and company. She soon realizes that opening up to him in letters is much easier without her family's constant presence. But how long can she keep falling for Lucien a secret?

Sarcasm and Sunshine (E) - Elain x Lucien

WIP, 7/? chapters, 5,000 words Summary: This is a collection of drabbles and short fics for Elain x Lucien (Elucien) mostly from prompts submitted via Tumblr. Each chapter is a stand alone story but some may have continuations in the future.

Short Fics

Kneel Before Me (E) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~11,000 words Summary: Lucien arrives at the House of Wind, only to be drawn into a sparring match with none other than the Inner Circle's own Shadowsinger. Things get out of hand and Azriel discovers whether he really can defeat Lucien easily.

I Think I Saw You in My Sleep (E) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~10,000 words Summary: The dreams of him come from the mating bond, but Elain wants them to stay.

Our Hearts Still Beat the Same (E) - Elain x Lucien

Two-shot, ~17,000 words Summary: "She stood on the bridge for a few minutes, hoping that the rain might wash away the seething anger and bottomless anguish that crackled under her skin. More, more, more, repeated again and again to a steady beat. His heart beat." Part One is Cozy Tension. Part Two is all smut.

Embrace (M) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~2,800 words Summary: Elain is on a journey of embracing her Faeness. When studying Lucien's pierced ears, an idea forms in her head that she can't shake.

Perennial (T) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, 6,700 words Summary: For Elucien Week 2024 Day 1: Fated. Fate has always been intertwined with Elain and Lucien's bond. An exploration of how soulmates find each other through every iteration of their existences.

... And Again Into the Light (M) - Elain x Lucien, collab with @crazy-ache

One-shot, 10,000 words Summary: For Elucien Week 2024 Day 6: Fearless. Elain has a vision that takes her and Lucien to the continent. In desperate need of rest, they rent a room for a night in an eerie inn that has an unnatural presence. Horror/Romance.

Dancing Barefoot (E) - Elain x Lucien, minor Jassa

One-shot, 10,000 words Summary: For Elucien Week 2024 Day 7: AU. “She is re-creation. She, intoxicated by thee”– Patti Smith. Historical AU 1970s – Elain is frustrated and aimless in her senior year of college. She doesn’t know what path to take with the way the world is changing. Then she meets Lucien, a punk rocker who also is becoming more disenfranchised with the scene. She’s drawn to his beauty and the danger in his eyes, and maybe just one night might be all she needs. Elucien, minor Jassa.

Fanarts, Commissions, & Other

Elucien 1980s clinch cover commissioned fanart by @dangerouslovesong *banner art

Dancing Barefoot Moodboard

NSFW fanart for Burn Forever With Me Ch 13 by @works-of-heart

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain fanart by @jadedbugart

Sarcasm & Sunshine drabble fanart by @jadedbugart

Elucien Week 2024 Masterlist

Grander - a poem for Elain Day

Carrion Flowers fanart by @jadedbugart

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

[letsgobarbs]

WIP Wednesday

Ooh thanks for the tag @probablyreadinsmut you wanna see my little hoard of words? you want a lil peek into my brain lab?

Here's a live of me cooking up my fanfictions this week:

But feeling very overachieving today because I finally posted another Chapter of His Young Wife (Marcus Acacius x Reader) last night.

And here's a little snippet from the new Homecoming (Dave York x Queer, Muslim!OC) chapter:

David Anthony York was wicked. He had to be. There was no other reason he had haunted her thoughts by day and her dreams by night. Maryam was taken by him since the first time she had seen him. He had looked up at her with the softest eyes the colour of molasses. Except, they hadn't been warm or sweet. His eyes reminded her of the dark pebbles down the riverbed smoothed over the years by a steady stream. Even with one eye covered under an eyepatch, they were so pretty that she was tempted to call them a gift that spoke of a gracious Creator. Tempted, but not convinced. She just couldn't trust eyes that told no stories, they didn't have the texture of tree bark, or specks of amber or black. His eyes had been a blank, even slate covered in a shiny, wet sheen that reflected the light but offered no noor, no real warmth or glow from within. 

He had looked so lost and pained with the scrunch between his brows and the deep creases that ran along his forehead. But something about the weakness and vulnerability in his eyes had struck her all wrong. His puppy-dog, baby-cow eyes didn't distract her from the falsity in the way David York had held himself. His pursed lips and tight jaw heralded a brewing storm. It had been an anger and rage so all-consuming it took root in his bones simmering under a facade of trained stillness that belied a man who had ceased grappling with his morality, a man who had beat his own conscience back with a stick until it no longer whispered at the back of his mind. The man with the prettiest eyes set on the face of a killer. 

Maryam knew the folly of giving any man an unearned chance to be close. But would it be unearned? Every action of his had gone against her first impression of him. He had been kind to Carol. Most other men in his place would have either trapped their wives in the marriage with guilt or threats, or raged against them for ‘ruining their lives’. But David had granted Carol her freedom through a smooth divorce, along with the house and an alimony. He had even stood up to Carol’s parents; he wouldn't allow them to meet their granddaughters if they couldn't accept their own daughter. He was a good father. She had held both Molly and Alice when they missed their daddy and had watched Carol struggle to fill his place in their lives. However, surely, it is best to err on the side of caution. She knew first-hand how monumentally stupid it would be to establish any sort of connection with a dangerous man.

You're being delusional, Maryam. There was no way that man was even thinking about her, let alone contemplating a connection. There was no connection. No spark. No heartbeat skips. No nothing. Men like him didn't want women like her— they lived in very different worlds. So, despite the futility, she was still thinking about the freckles on his right cheekbone, there had been four prominent ones forming a diamond shape and several lighter ones that trailed up towards his temple. It reminded her of the Little Dipper. Maryam was tempted to turn to her mother and request she pray and cleanse the house of bad vibes. Her daughter was likening a man’s freckles to constellations and that had to be a sign of Jinn or some spirits whispering these thoughts into her ear like the stories from home. She was bewitched.

Now, that suburban middle-aged man wouldn't know the first thing about black magic and influence. Maryam recited her verses anyway as she put on her shoes— partially out of habit, but to also ward off evil, protect against accidents and fate’s whimsy, and for mental fortitude and strength. She was going to see David York. Something about the way he had looked at her when she left his apartment made her worry. Molly and Alice are with him half of the weekdays and every other weekend, the custody arrangements were still being tinkered with to suit everyone involved. But Carol was taking the girls to stay with Theresa’s family for spring break.

Maryam had inquired about him with Carol, hoping to assuage some of that worry, only to learn he had recently lost friends. She hadn't wanted to pry further, it was weird to keep asking Carol about her ex-husband even if it was from a place of concern. She didn't want that concern to be misconstrued because that's all it will ever be. Nonetheless, she felt nauseous— not because she felt guilty for seeking out her friend’s ex-husband but because she was hiding it from her. This was the sort of thing you discussed with friends— perhaps not the freckles and doe eyes part, but certainly the worrying bit. 

Maryam had been at a club to support a friend at their big DJ gig where she had met Carol. They had both felt out of place, and Maryam had bought her a drink. The night had been life-altering because Carol experienced her first kiss with a woman. Maryam had pressed Carol against the wall in a secluded corner of the club, their kiss had tasted of espresso martini and strawberry cheesecake. The experience had been wholly overwhelming because Carol had cried her sorrows into Maryam’s arms who had ensured she reached home safely to her kids and by the time they met for breakfast the next day, they were best friends. 

For context: Carol thinks Dave is dead and this is her 'trying to move on' process that makes her sorta realise that she is a lesbian and she had been trying to conform to that husband and two kids lifestyle her conservative, god-believing parents expected of her. Carol dates Theresa now. And Dave isn't going to turn away a willing prey walking into his home out of concern for him— so stupid of Maryam really.

I'm also cooking up my Pero Tovar in the winter prompt for the writing through the seasons challenge organised by @guiltyasdave (Hope you're having lots of fun and relaxing on your bday trip <3) and @sizzlingcloudmentality

Do I have actual paragraphs for it? No :) But I have plot points and I have ideas, and I love my ideas, I think they're neat. It's going to be a reverse mail-order bride trope lmfao. Because I like a mail-order bride story. Pero thinks he was just interviewing for a servant post, he could figure his way around cooking and cleaning when he couldn't find another fighting gig. But he somehow ends up in one of those medieval rattling wooden prison transport carts with wooden bars and also somehow hired as a mail-order husband. Best believe the other girlies in that cart are giving him side-eyes.

share your stuff you guys lemme see what's cooking: @pedrospookie @slimybeth69 @galaxyedging @iknowisoundcrazy @joelslegalwhre @jessthebaker @pedroswife69 @joelswritingmistress @missyorkswhore @peepawispunk @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @everybodylovedcontractors and anybody else who wants to share <33

[fanonical]

Jamie's Mildly Pretentious Uquiz Adventures - A Masterpost

what is haunting you? you have been asked to rid a place of the thing that has been haunting it. tell me how you prepare, and i will tell you what you find.

which faerie will guide you? You have been invited to a gathering of the Fae, to meet the being who will become your mentor. It is an invitation you have both dreaded and anticipated. Make choices along the path, and I will tell you who waits at the end.

what thing is hunting you? there is something following you. it is time to run. gather what you can, take what roads call to you. there is something following you, and it will not stop until it catches you.

prepare a spell and i will tell you what sort of witch you are lightning strikes outside your door - the witching hour is close at hand. power swirls inside your form, magic strong at your command. enchantments thicken in the air, spells of word and clay and steel. but what is the charm that you shall cast; to help or harm, to hex or heal?

survive a journey through the post-apocalypse and i will tell you who you are long ago, the world came to an end. but you are still here, surviving amid the ruins. and you have a job to do. the road is long and harsh. there is little comfort here. but you will see it through to the bitter end, and discover your role in this strange new world.

try and save the world from the end and i will tell you what kind of hero you are the signs of the end time are nigh. the people flee, frantic, from the destruction that is to come. but there is a hero, one who will emerge in the last gasps of a dying world, to journey beneath the earth and bring forth an artifact that might, the sages say, avert the end times. and that hero is you.

Prepare to meet a vampire, and I will tell you what you find October has dawned crisp and cold. 'Tis the season of the macabre, of the blood-tinged, and you have been waiting for it a long time. This year, you are going to surpass every past Halloween. This year, you are going to find a vampire…and ensure they turn you into one of their kindred.

Travel out to sea and I will tell you your role on a pirate ship The bright sun beats down on the glistening azure waves. All around you, the docks are alive with sound - seamen and stevedores shouting, timber and rope creaking and groaning, the distant screech of a fiddle. You are a pirate, heading to your ship for a day's work. But what kind of pirate are you?

Which god chooses you? The Hall of the Gods has many idols. As an acolyte, you have become familiar with each of their faces. Now, you prepare for your initiation. One of them will accept you as their successor. Perform the rites, survive the trials, call the Divine, and see who answers.

death is coming for you. how will you escape? the end comes for all of us. some accept it, lay down and fade away. some are eager to find out what lies beyond. and some will kick and scream with every last breath. you just have days remaining, but you have a plan. you're going to cheat death. one way or another. you're going to win.

Create a monster, and I will show you your reflection Night has fallen. Lightning crackles in the sky above. It is time for you to create an abomination. But what manner of horror will spring from your hands?

[siderealscribblings]

Have some NeuviFuri Meet-Cute GoD style

0 Years, 0 Months, 1 Day

Neuvillette woke and knew only two things; his name, and that there was something wrong with him. 

His eyes opened to see long tendrils of silver hair floating in the water around him and faint white light streaming down from the surface high above him. This wasn't unusual; he had no memory of the cold inky cradle he woke up in but it felt…right. Even as the hand that reached towards the surface was too pale. Blue and white scales covered the back of his hand and stretched down his arm, but there should have been more. He knew that much, even if the rest of his memories were blurry at best. 

You are incomplete… 

A thought flickered through his mind in a voice not his own. The voice rippled through the water as he sat up, deliriously looking around for the source. 

Something has been taken from you, Hydro Sovereign…

Hydro Sovereign…that's who he was. He knew that as much as he knew that he was weaker than he should be. The long, slender limbs that reached into the water were too smooth, the scales on the skin too patchy. He was wrong, somehow, in a way he couldn't put into words. It was a fact that beat with every twitch of his heart and reminded him of something he had lost. 

Your authority can be returned to you…if you listen to me.

The light above him took the form of a slender woman dressed in a flowing gown of white and blue that billowed in the water as she descended. He recognized her, but not because of how she looked; something about her felt like himself. Like she somehow had the part he lacked. 

Aid the woman who looks like me. She has a task she needs your help with. 

Neuvillette opened his mouth, hoping to say something before the ethereal woman disappeared, but as soon as he found his voice she vanished in a cloud of bubbles, leaving Neuvillette deliriously looking around the bottom of the pool, unsure of what to do next. 

His stomach offered a suggestion in the form of a growl; he could puzzle about the nature of the bizarre young woman after he had eaten. Something told him it had been a very long time since he had done that. 

0 Years, 0 Months, 10 Days

Go; I will be with you. 

So spoke her reflection, and despite the tremor that haunted every step, Furina pushed into the wilderness on the slopes of Mount Automnequi with only a skinny cane-sword for protection. An unusually dense mist hung around the mountain; passing hooded through a small fishing village, she heard the locals say that they had never seen such a dense mist. It was so thick that Furina could barely see the trees ten paces in front of her. And yet, she pressed on, taking one turn that felt right to her after another. 

The quiet suited her. Since her shaky attempt at coronation, she had been surrounded by so many people, all eager to make the acquaintance of the new Archon, that Furina barely had a moment's peace to collect herself. Any doubts she had about accepting the help her reflection offered melted away as persistent dread made sleeping almost impossible. She was terribly, painfully alone in a teeming mob, some of whom already didn't like her. 

If this harebrained scheme had a hailstone's chance in hell of succeeding, she was going to need all the help she could get. 

By noon the fog showed no sign of relenting, but Furina was getting close to calling it quits as her stylish boots proved warm but ill suited to walking up mountains. Thankfully a cool pool of water emerged from the mist and Furina hobbled over to the edge of the water. Sitting on a mossy rock on the edge of the water, she kicked her boots off with a sigh that was swallowed by heavy fog. The dried fruit she packed would last for another small meal, after which point she would need to go home again and try some other day. The trouble was, she didn't know how many more times she could sneak out of the Palais without drawing unwanted attention. 

And she didn't want to have the "My Reflection Told Me to Go to the Wilderness to Find a Stranger to Help Me" conversation at this point. That was a fast route to being hailed as Furina the Mad by her subjects. 

"Hello?" Furina called into the mountain wilderness, met with only silence in return. Were she a mountaineer, she would have been unnerved by the total absence of animal sounds, insect noises, or bird calls as a sure sign of a nearby predator. 

"Is anyone there?" Furina asked, leaning down to refill her water skin in the cool mountain pond. Her reflection stared back at her, but offered no answers; whoever had spoken to her was now gone despite her promise to be with Furina. 

"Okay…I'm here," Furina said to her murky reflection in the water. "Here and out of clues, so any help would be very much appreciated." 

Her own wavering reflection stared back at her, silent as it had been for days since her coronation. A flicker of movement deep in the pool caught her attention as somewhere down in the darkness of the water, a large shape moved about. Vishaps weren't uncommon in the wilds of Fontaine and just as she was about to move, two bright blue eyes flickered in the darkness, turning up to look at her from the bottom of the pool. 

Okay, well I tried, time to go now! Furina thought, scrambling back from the edge of the pool as the shape lunged up out of the depths. She managed to get her sword cane out of its sheathe as a large, pale figure emerged from the depths of the pond, looking for all the world like a shirtless man clad in only a waistcloth that clung to his thighs as he pushed himself up on the rock Furina had been sitting on only moments earlier. Long, stringy wet hair was plastered to his neck and shoulders and in his mouth a fat wriggling trout was breathing its last as his jaws snapped its head off with one crunch of bones and skin. 

Despite the relatively human appearance, Furina couldn't be sure she wasn't looking at a monster, but he made no motion to attack, simply chewing his fish-head thoughtfully for a moment. 

"You," the creature's voice spoke, a low thrumming sound that seemed to ripple the fog that hung over the water. "...what took you so long?" 

[sachingja]

"It'll all feel better in the morning." ( junho and inho )

the words are a familiar thing, a worn-out melody, having grown flimsy and thin from repetition. inho used to speak those words to his younger brother what must have been a millennium ago — but is really just two odd decades or some, muddled with memories of a stint in the military, as every other, well-bodied man of their home country — whenever junho got sick, or their parents would fight. sounds heard through thin walls, or the despair of a child clinging to someone, anyone, for some sort of relief. the memories are hazy in quality, mingling and overlapping with the pictures of the present. junho is not seven anymore; the child inho used to take care of, that adolescent who used to follow him around, that would clamor for his appreciation and appeal has grown into a man. hands bloodied and dirt beneath his nails, rough knuckles and unkempt eyes, like some haunting must have taken place in the very recent past, something junho cannot seem to shake.

inho figures it might be him. his disappearing act once a year, vanishing into thin air. quitting the force, the kind of institution junho used to strive for, following in his footsteps, only for inho to leave it all behind. but things are easier here, on the other side. inho worries less these days, busy with finessing the games and making sure everything will go off without a hitch and according to plan. he has customers, investors to satisfy, people who use their valuable money to fund the very same thing inho has grown so adept at handling. it must be in his nature, maybe. an inherent, innate understanding of violence.

the human disposition is easier to understand if stripped bare. like sick children, people will seek for any sort of relief when they are scared and mindless. bloodshed, inho thinks. an ancient medical practice of relieving pressure, scraping sickness out of a body. emptying it entirely.

" junho, " he says, the vowels distorted and strange in his mouth. stripped off the pink guard uniform, junho looks more like inho's brother than he can stand, than he could ever remember. he has matured in the last few years, delicate lines forming around his eyes. the passage of time has never been more apparent to inho than now. maybe, he should kill his brother. another abhorrently human instinct, biblical. but if he would kill junho now, what difference would it make in the long run? the thoughts are all bitter on his tongue. " i will not leave. "

( and neither will you. )

why? maybe because junho is asking him not to. did inho ever leave him to fend for himself all those years ago? no. he would not do that to his brother. after all, blood tells tales, too. it is all it ever does, it seems.

there is sweat beading junho's brow, the rust-red staining his shirt deepening in color, drying in patches. inho watches the hurt marring junho's face, finding it to be a reflection of himself. their mother used to say they looked alike, despite the fact that inho had sixteen years on him. perhaps their eyes, or the shape of their nose. something in the carefully calculated angles of their jaws, or whatever else she would find that would convince her. but inho can see it now, too, how alike they are after all — junho a shadow of himself, an after-image of his youth.

" it will hurt less once the bullet is out, " he explains, earning a glare. junho is so pale, he appears ashen. inho is ignoring the pain pulsing inside his shoulder, his chest, a twin-ache. " let me help you. "

⋆ . · * ·✵ · ✹ · ✹ *  gentle care / accepting.