#like a small area of safety and comfort in between it all

[voregeoise]

When the pred does a little blep in front of the prey, very normal about that

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hiii

so idk if your requests are open but could you please write some hcs about clayton Beresford as a husband and dad

Thank youuu ❤️

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

HUSBAND/DAD!CLAY HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains filthy, crazy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: of course my requests are open! I just LOVE seeing notification from my inbox, so thank you very much <3 hope you like it

MARRIAGE

Clayton Beresford who after two delightful years of your relationship proposed to you. He took you to the fancy restaurant, and since it was something you did often, you hadn't have any suspicious. But have you thought about marrying him? Of course, yet, you wanted to give him time. You knew how his earlier marriage ended so it'd be out of your character to even suggest him taking your relationship to another level. But the ring you got was out of your wildest dreams - 4 carat round cut diamond ring that seemed to shine more than every star in the sky

Clayton Beresford who got even more all-about-you after wedding. Even more love making with no care in the world, long honeymoon, even more spent time together just more everything

Clayton Beresford who, despite his demanding job, always makes time for you. He’s the type of husband who will surprise you with small gestures; like leaving sweet notes in your purse or sending you flowers (mostly to your workplace) randomly just to remind you that he’s thinking of you.

Clayton Beresford who loves planning spontaneous weekend trips to your favorite places. Whether it’s a cozy cabin in the mountains or a luxury hotel in the city, Clayton enjoys these escapes to focus solely on you without any distractions.

Clayton Beresford who's big on surprises. He might book a last-minute trip to Paris (or any place on earth), arrange for a private dinner on the rooftop of the restaurant's building or just in the place you'd not be able to pay by yourself. Or buy you that piece of jewelry you casually mentioned months ago.

Clayton Beresford who has a strong protective instinct. He always ensures you’re safe, and anyone who might pose a threat to you or your happiness would have to face his wrath.

Clayton Beresford who depended on you doing the grocery shopping since he had never done that before (however after a few times he gained knowledge);

Clay glanced away for just a second, but when he looked back, you were gone. His brow furrowed as he scanned the immediate area, stepping away from the cart to see if you had wandered behind another display. But there was no sign of you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in as he quickened his pace, determined not to lose you. Not in this place.

He began weaving through the aisles, his eyes darting around in search of you, listening intently for any sound that might be your voice. But the supermarket was huge, and the weekend crowd made it even more overwhelming.

With a groan of annoyance, Clay pressed on, moving faster now, his heart racing a little at the thought of losing you in this sea of people. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of you between rushing people. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest as he turned sharply toward the sound.

You were standing by the dairy section, casually chatting on the phone as you picked up items. Relief washed over him, and he silently thanked whatever forces led him to find you.

Like a lost puppy or a child who had been separated from their parent, he hurried over to you, his earlier frustration melting into a quiet sense of relief.

Reaching for a carton of milk, you sensed someone close behind you. Turning around, you found Clay standing there, his expression a mix of worry and boyish vulnerability that made you smile. It was as if he had been a little kid lost in a big mall again.

You handed him the shopping list, tapping the line where it said 'bananas' with a knowing look.

Clay accepted the list with a determined nod. He was a grown man—he could handle picking up some bananas.

But when he reached the produce section, his confidence wavered as he stared at the six different types of bananas on display, his frown deepening in confusion.

It was supposed to be a simple task: grab the bananas and return to you. Yet here he was, staring at the display like they were some exotic species he had never encountered.

He didn't recognize any of the types, and he had no clue which one you wanted. So, with a loosing sigh, he carefully picked a bunch of yellow bananas, added some mini ones, and then tossed in a few green ones for good measure. Feeling a bit more confident, he placed them all in the cart and made his way back to you. A small, proud smirk forming on his lips as he approached.

“I got them,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice as if he had just completed a great feat.

You glanced down at the cart, noticing the remarkable assortment. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at him. "Baby, but... they're all different kinds."

His smirk faded slightly as a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He glanced at the cart, then back at you “I know,” he admitted, his voice soft and a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted, so I just… grabbed a few to be safe.”

Your heart melted at his effort, and you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "C'mon, we'll figure out these bananas together."

His cheeks flushed a deeper red at your affectionate gesture, and he looked down at you with warm, loving eyes, a shy smile curving his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, feeling content as he started pushing the cart again, this time with you walking beside him.

PREGNANCY

Clayton Beresford who was shocked yet thrilled when he found out you're pregnant. He was always gentle with you but from that day he got on another level of doing everything in his power to make sure you're safe, happy and comfortable

Clayton Beresford who seemed to be hypnotized by your changing body (so obviously loved to have his hands on it, and you loved when he did)

Clayton Beresford who had to deal with your neediness for attention/affection;

"Baby, I'm already late. You know I can't stay longer," he sighs, slipping on his black cloak, the fabric rustling as he moves with familiar urgency.

"Are you sure you can't stay just a little longer?" you pout, leaning against the doorframe of your mudroom

He chuckles softly and walks over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest "Baby, I'd love nothing more than to stay," he murmurs "But…" he sighs again, the weight of responsibility heavy in his voice, "you know I can't be late twice in a row."

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his muscles firm against your softer frame. The warmth of his embrace makes you want to hold onto him just a little longer.

"But I thought you'd make love to me all morning," you tease, your voice soft and playful "and then spoil me with a big breakfast."

His eyes softened after his large hands roam over to cup your pregnant belly, his fingers gently tracing over the curve "That was the original plan," his lips formed into a knowing smirk. His hands linger on your body, as if memorizing every inch before he has to let go. "But you know I've got to go to work…"

"But what if the baby comes out while you're not here?" you pout, feeling the warmth of his knuckles as they gently trace over your swollen belly.

He chuckles softly at your worry, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. He steps back slightly, his hands slipping from your waist to admire the sight of your pregnant form. "Babe, we've talked about this. The baby's not coming today," he says with a confident grin, glancing down at your round belly before meeting your concerned gaze.

"Yeah... right," you mumble, still not entirely convinced.

He can't help but smirk at how endearingly moody you are, especially when you pout like that. With a gentle touch, he wraps his fingers around your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking directly into his smiling eyes. "Don't give me that look," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth as he leans in closer, his breath brushing against your lips.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as the reality of his departure sinks in.

His gaze locks onto your big, sparkling eyes as he gently cups your cheeks. "I'm going to miss you too, baby. But I have to go to work," he murmurs with a tender smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once more.

"I love you, you know," your voice lingering, trying to stretch out the moment just a little longer.

His smile deepens, touched by your efforts to keep him close, but he's all too aware of the ticking clock. "I love you too, more than anything. But if I don't leave now, I'll be late for a meeting with the board... and I can't afford to do that again," his tone a mix of regret and urgency as he gives you a sympathetic look, hoping you understand.

"But you're their boss," you protest softly, a pout forming on your lips.

He sighs, knowing that leaving without giving you something special will likely leave you moody for the rest of the day. Even though he’s pressed for time, he quickly pivots. "How about I give you a kiss for the road?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts the mood.

"Okay," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, his hand finding its way to your cheek once more, tenderly cradling your face. He pauses, taking a moment to get lost in your sparkling blue eyes, savoring the connection before slowly closing his own and leaning in. His lips meet yours in a slow, loving kiss

Clayton Beresford who makes sure to lift up your pregnancy mood;

His heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Instantly, worry fills his eyes and he kneels beside you, his voice soft and full of concern. "Baby, what’s wrong?" He gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, urging you to meet his gaze.

"I feel so huge..." you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

"Baby, you know I love every part of you. Nothing could ever change that," he says tenderly, his words full of sincerity.

But your insecurities linger, and you turn to him, searching his face. "So you think I’m huge?" you ask, misinterpreting his silence as agreement.

He sighs again, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable you are right now. Quickly, he tries to soothe your worries before they spiral. "No, no, love..." he insists, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of your tears. "You’re not huge, you’re beautiful."

You glance down at your growing belly, frustration evident in your voice. "I barely fit into my pants."

He smiles softly, his gaze never leaving yours, understanding the deep-seated concerns you have about your changing body. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "But that’s just because of the incredible little life you’re carrying."

"You look absolutely radiant when you’re pregnant," he adds, his words filled with admiration, careful not to say anything that might upset you further.

"Yeah?" you sniffle, your voice small and uncertain.

He nods slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, full of love and reassurance. "Yeah, baby," he repeats softly. "You’re glowing, and you’re absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you, pregnant or not."

"But what if after I push the baby out, I still look pregnant? And... and I have all these marks, and my body doesn’t go back to the way it was? And you'll leave me?"

His heart aches as he listens to your fears, unable to bear hearing you doubt the body he cherishes so deeply. "No, no, no, shhh, baby, no..." he murmurs urgently, his voice soothing as he tries to calm your spiraling thoughts. "I would never, ever leave you for that. My love for you knows no limits, nothing could change that."

His hands continue to tenderly stroke your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he speaks. "I love you so much, sweetheart. The marks on your body from carrying our beautiful child—they'll only make me love you and your body even more."

"Yeah?" you sniffle, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

his eyes filled with admiration and love as he nods "Yeah, baby. Because those marks are proof of your incredible strength, of the life you’ve nurtured for nine months.. and only an absolute goddess could manage that"

Clayton Beresford who every day remaided you how beautiful you are, what a treasure you are in his life that nothing could replace

Clayton Beresford who got more cuddly with you;

"Look at that… he’s a little boxer" his lips curved up as he felt the baby’s tiny movements beneath his fingertips. His voice was filled with awe, and there was a boyish excitement in his eyes that made you smile.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced up from your book. "How do you know it’s a boy?"

He shrugged, but the cheeky grin that spread across his features betrayed the certainty in his heart. He leaned closer, letting his chin rest on your bump. His touch was gentle, almost tingly at times while his long fingers made sure to memorize the path over your swollen skin

"Father’s instincts," he whispered

"Oh? Didn’t know you had those," you chuckled, your fingers threading through his tousled curls. There was something endearing about how intensely focused he was on your belly - his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for more signs of the baby’s movements.

Clay still kept his, this time less wider, smile over his lips. He seemed to calm down under not only your touch but the feeling of your belly with his child right in his reach and right before his eyes. He shifted slightly, pressing his lips gently against your tummy. His lips lingered for a little longer, his expression changing to more surprised;

"Hush," he murmured softly, his hand stilling when he found the spot where the baby seemed to be resting. "I can sense him…"

Yet, the baby had quieted, and clay's lips formed into a pout. The frustration knitting his brows before he nuzzled to your belly "Can’t you encourage him to kick or something? I want to know that he’s alive…" he mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of concern and childish impatience (that you rarely saw before)

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnestness. "Clay, how am I supposed to encourage him? Maybe he’s sleeping."

He groaned softly, looking up at you with those soulful eyes, making it impossible not to find him utterly endearing. He looked like a grumpy child who hadn’t received the attention he thought he deserved and it was both cute and hilarious

"Well, I don’t know," he muttered, his hand still drawing small circles on your belly. "Talk to him? Tell him how cool I am… maybe he’ll be excited then and want to say hi."

You rolled your eyes playfully, still stroking his curls. "Baby, don’t be ridiculous… he's probably sleeping."

He huffed in response, still pouting but clearly knowing you were right. The baby was just asleep, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Still, the idea of his child not acknowledging his presence seemed to tug at something deep within him.

"I just want him to know that I’m here too," he mumbled

You smiled down at him, your voice soothing as you reassured him. "I bet he does, clay."

"Just imagine how cute he’s gonna be," clay mused, his voice softening as he let himself drift into the fantasy of fatherhood. "A baby version of me, running around, being a menace to everyone…"

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What if it’s a girl?"

His hand paused for a moment, the weight of the thought catching him off guard. For a few seconds, his expression was blank as he processed the idea of having a daughter. Then, slowly, his usual cocky grin reappeared, but with a touch of tenderness that hadn’t been there before.

"A baby girl," he echoed, as if trying out the words. "She could get your looks, though. I wouldn’t mind that. The second most beautiful girl in the world… and daddy’s little princess."

Just then, he felt a light flutter beneath his palm. His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, the pout completely erased by a wide grin "There you are…"

The baby seemed to respond to his voice, shifting slightly as if acknowledging his father’s presence. He continued to rub gently over your belly, his touch loving and protective, showering the area with soft kisses.

"Already responding to me," he whispered, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as he felt the tiny movements beneath his hands. "Smart baby…"

clayton continued to soothe your belly, his hands and lips moving in a calming rhythm until the baby settled back into stillness. Even as the baby quieted, he wasn’t ready to let go. He lingered, enjoying the feeling of being close to both of you, his heart full and content.

"Guess he’s asleep again…" he said softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Or maybe he’s just tired of you," you teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

His eyes widened in mock offense, his pout returning as he looked up at you, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Very funny," he grumbled, his frown deepening. "I am the most interesting person this baby will ever meet—"

But despite his grumbling, you could see the love and excitement in his eyes, the way he couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside you. And you knew, without a doubt, that he would be the best father this baby could ever ask for.

Clayton Beresford who spoiled you way more during your pregnancy. More presents without occasion, more affection, more cuddles, just more everything there was to give

Clayton Beresford who was there on most of your doctor appointments. If he had a busy schedule, which happened often, he then couldn't appear (but you didn't mind, since it was just doctor appointment to check on your and the child's health, nothing more so much important for him to be there everytime)

Clayton Beresford who was obsessed with making love to you during your pregnancy;

"youre-youre so big--" you mewl underneath him

"I am, aren't I?" he panted, his hands gripping your plump hips tightly. "And you're so fucking tight, sweetheart." His words spurred him on, pushing deeper inside you to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

your eyes barely could keep themselves open from the sensation of having him again in your hole. Who would have known that your pregnancy hormones would make you so horny you would cry to Clayton about it. And him, being such a generous gentleman who loved his wife with all his being, how could just leave you like that? When you sobbed, begged for his touch

"Don't close your eyes," he commanded softly "Open them. Let me see the look on your face when I'm inside you."

your eyes reluctantly opened, at least they lingered between half opened and half closed. A moan rumbled through your throat as you took in the sight of his muscles that ripped whenever his hold grew too much

"That's it," he panted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear you." Clayton's breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him. The way you moaned and your completely swollen breasts jingled with each thrust was driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned you, picking up the pace even more.

PARENTHOOD

Clayton Beresford who was there for you for the whole childbirth. Encouraging you, giving you support, etc. He'd insist you'd hold the baby first, not him. And before he'd even hold the newborn, he'd make sure you're all safe and everything's okay;

After making sure you held the newborn first and you were all okay, he had time to take the baby close to his chest, his large, strong arms cradling the fragile newborn bundle with a tenderness that belied his powerful frame. The baby’s skin was a delicate shade of pink, still wrinkled from the birth, and Clay couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion as he gazed down at the tiny life nestled against him. The baby was so small, so impossibly vulnerable, and it made something deep within him tremble and break.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he gently stroked the baby’s cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips barely brushing the baby’s soft, downy skin and his hand looked enormous in comparison to the baby’s minuscule features.

“He’s so small…” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Are you crying?” you asked softly, a tired smile playing on your lips as you rested after the long and exhausting delivery

He glanced up at you and he felt a single tear escape and trail down his cheek “…No—yes… maybe…” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, but it was clear that his composure was unraveling. He returned his gaze to the baby in his arms, his expression softening as he ran a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how delicate and perfect it was.

When the newborn's hand wrapped around clay's finger, he felt like his new heart might explode from overwhelming feeling. It was so cute, the baby’s grip firm and warm

“He’s holding my finger…” he murmured, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered awe

The baby continued to cling to his finger, his tiny hand gripping the large digit with a determination that was both heartwarming and humbling. Clay smiled through tears and a mixture of pride and amazement shined in his eyes as he gently caressed the baby’s hand, utterly mesmerized by the strength in such a small being.

“Such a tight grip… I’ve already created a little warrior,” he mused with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with pride. He looked down at his son, his heart brimming with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. “You’re going to be strong, just like your momma” he added, his tone filled with admiration.

“…You have your momma’s eyes, you know?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but also something deeper, something reverent. The sight of those eyes, so familiar and yet so new, made him feel as though he was looking at a piece of you—a part of the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

As if sensing the weight of the moment, the baby cooed softly, his tiny body wriggling uncomfortably against the confines of the blanket. You watched the first interaction between your husband and your child and it was the most endearing thing you experience. Delivery was hard, damn it hurt like hell, as if devil himself teared your insides but as soon as the baby was out, all the pain was forgotten

“You don’t like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he gently traced soothing circles over the baby’s cheek “I don’t blame you… I’d hate being swaddled too.”

Clayton Beresford who is the kind of dad who’s always one step ahead when it comes to the safety and well-being of your children. He’s vigilant about who they spend time with and ensures they grow up in the safest environment possible.

Clayton Beresford who, despite his often serious demeanor, has a major soft spot when it comes to his children. He’s not afraid to get down on the floor and play with them, and he’ll often indulge them in things other might not—like staying up a bit past bedtime for just one more story.

Clayton Beresford who enjoys spoiling his kids, whether it’s with the latest toys, gadgets, or extravagant birthday parties. However, he’s careful to balance this with teaching them the importance of gratitude and not taking things for granted.

Clayton Beresford who, if you have a daughter, is wrapped around her little finger. He’s the type of dad who will attend tea parties, help with ballet practice, and learn how to braid hair just to make her happy;

"Hold on, baby, I'm almost finished," he murmured, his voice a soft yet deep rumble as he focused on working his fingers through the strands of your daughter's hair.

"Maybe we should just ask Mommy," she whispered, her small voice carrying a hint of doubt.

"No, no," he shook his head gently, a determined glint in his eye. "We don’t need Mommy for a braid. Daddy can do it just fine."

Clay's fingers moved clumsily but with care, tugging her hair a bit too tightly at times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully looped the strands together.

"But Mommy always likes to help," she insisted, her tone hopeful.

"Daddy likes to help too," he replied, his voice tender but resolute, wanting to prove himself to his little girl.

He paused for a moment, examining his work with a critical eye. The braid was far from perfect—slightly uneven and a little messy, held together by a hairband that seemed to be doing more of the work than the braid itself. But as he looked at it, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"See? Not so bad, huh?"

Clayton Beresford who is big on teaching his children responsibility from a young age.

Clayton Beresford who made sure to pay attention to your kids after he came back from work. Even if he was extremely tired, he'd rather fall asleep with your baby boy in his arms than leaving you alone to deal with the children

Clayton Beresford who found you as his inspiration. You, with kids most of the time, still having energy to take care of him and the house. So, as soon as he changed his clothes after work, he replaced you in duties so you'd have your alone time.

Clayton Beresford who, if you had a son, played all the games the boy wanted. Like toys where the boy came up with some plot, plastic cars, playgrounds outside;

Clay sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks into a tall tower while his son sat comfortably on his lap, his tiny hands occasionally reaching out to help—or hinder.

"What do you want to eat?" you asked softly from the kitchen doorway, watching the two with a fond smile.

Clay glanced up at you, a playful gleam in his eye. "You?" he teased, genuinely curious about your preference.

But before he could say more, the boy clumsily knocked over the tower with an excited shove, sending the blocks tumbling in all directions.

“Hey! You just destroyed Daddy’s masterpiece,” Clay said in mock offense, though his voice carried a warm, playful tone. He looked down at him, who was dissolving into giggles, his face scrunched up in pure joy.

"Well, I was thinking pasta... I'm really craving it," you said, your giggles mingling with theirs.

Clay's heart swelled as he watched you enjoy the moment just as much as he was. Turning back to the toddler, he gently poked his son’s side, earning more bubbly laughter from the little boy. “We don’t normally allow such behavior in the tower-building world,” he joked, his tone still light before turning his gaze to you "But pasta sounds good tho.."

With a grin, Clay stood up from the carpeted floor, scooping the boy up by his armpits and swinging him side to side, much to the toddler’s delight. "C'mon, you little silly guy, let's go help Mommy with dinner,"

Clayton Beresford who, no matter what interests or hobbies your kids have, is fully supportive. He’ll invest in lessons, equipment, or anything else they need to pursue their passions, always encouraging them to follow their dreams.

Clayton Beresford who, no matter how busy his life gets, always prioritizes family. He ensures that you and the kids know that you’re his number one priority, making time for family dinners, vacations, and just spending quality time together.

Clayton Beresford who propritazed your time together. His kids were important but you were more important. So, regularly he hired a babysitter (a trusted one), and took you out on dates (or on a vacation but then your parents took care of the children) so you could focus on each other and on the bond you share without screaming kids

Clayton Beresford ho didn't mind making you pregnant again (if you even wanted to be pregnant again);

"Fill this beautiful cunt with my seed once more?" He growled, plunging back into you with a single powerful thrust that made you both cry out in pleasure "you want that love? Be pregnant again?"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune (sad about her not being her anymore..) @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[devildomwriter]

Pact Mark — Bond Placement

What if pact marks appeared in specific areas based on the connection you had with the demon when you first made it? Like the heart is for love and faith, a shoulder means you can lean on them, a hand is someone you made a quick deal with or someone who very much wanted the deal, somewhere along the spine shows trust sense a broken spine can end it all, a hip or tailbone represents something more sexual, etc.

Lucifer

Lucifer’s pact was made out of trust, respect, and let’s be honest—serious sexual tension (you literally have the option to “spend the night” with him right after the pact is made). His pact mark appears on your tailbone, a sensitive place on your body.

Mammon

Mammon’s pact was made manipulatively without a close bond between you two so his appears on the hand like a deal being made in a handshake. This bothers him nowadays.

Leviathan

Leviathan’s pact was made as a deal and following through on it despite the competition weighing heavily in your favor. His appears on your chest as a symbol a faith and good-will (though originally he was going to eat you—this is canon)

Satan

Satan’s pact was made from respect rather than his original intention to just annoy Lucifer. His pact appears on the back of your neck, a place people reach for comfort because you can take comfort in the fact he is genuinely on your side, it’s also a sensitive part on the body, showing you can trust him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus’s pact was made in complete awe of your strength, plus he thought you were cute and unique. His appears on the back of your hand like a kiss of respect.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s was made with a promise to help someone he cared for and his trust you’d follow through. His appears over the heart for the care in which the promise and pact were made.

Belphegor

Belphegor’s was made as a gift and apology, a sign of loyalty. His appears on the back because he will always have yours for as long as he lives.

Possible Pacts

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles has a developed bond with you at this point. Though he mostly scolds you for behaving improperly, he also helps when you need it or when interests align. He mostly only aids if he’s given something in return but when it counts he will be there. His pact mark appears on the back of your hand as he is a deal-maker through and through.

Barbatos

Barbatos did not develop close bonds with you as quickly as the others. It took a long time for him to completely trust you. His would appear on your shoulder as he is someone you can lean on and trust.

Diavolo

Diavolo cannot make a pact but if he did it would be on the small of your back. He cares and trusts you deeply. He has a very strong influence in your life, someone to guide you forward like a hand on your back.

Guardian Angel Pact

Much like demons who make pacts, an Angel can only become someone’s guardian once in the human’s life span. What if they had guardian symbols?

Luke

Luke may be a child but he’s smart, he learns and grows quickly and he helps you as he does this. He keeps your heart warm and guides you to do what’s right like a moral conscious. His would appear on your temple, displaying the wisdom he’ll bring to your life, especially as he grows.

Simeon

Simeon cares for you very deeply, enough that he’d give up everything for you as we have seen in the game. Simeon’s guardian pact would be on the finger he placed the Ring of Light which saved your life and forever changed his.

Raphael

Raphael is hard to get close to but you can tell that he cares. His pact would be on your temple above the ear as he is a voice to guide you even when you don’t want him to be.

Michael

Michael is pretty concerned about your safety and who you become. He’s simultaneously intrigued by you and protective of you, he’s saved your life multiple times. His guardian pact mark would be near your heart since time and again he’s been the only one who kept it beating.

Reaper Pact

What if Grim Reaper’s had a pact symbol with the humans whose souls they would reap or keep with them?

Thirteen

Since Thirteen has been promised your soul once you pass (unless you end up like Solomon) her reaper pact would appear on the sole of your foot, representing the steps you walk as your life moves forward.

Sorcerer Pact

What if Sorcerer’s closely bonded, or otherwise made pacts like promises to each other? A coven-symbol of sorts.

Solomon

Solomon’s would appear on your forehead, much like a third eye of wisdom.

[shortestcake]

SAFE WITH HER

(oneshot)

Pairing: Abby x reader

Pronouns used: she/her

Gendered terms: girl

Genre: angstish+fluff

// Owen(gross), description of violence / very mild gore

It was no secret that Abby was fiercely protective of the people she cared about, naturally assuming a guardian-like role. And when it came to you, that instinct intensified tenfold.

It could range from subtle things, such as a careful but shielding hand on the small of your back or around your waist when the two of you weren't in the comfort of your room. Or less subtle things, like her straight up refusal to you going on patrol without her.

Even before you two were together, she insisted on accompanying you on every patrol, unable to trust anyone else with your safety.

Her constant presence during your outings made this all the more terrifying. This was your first patrol without her in nearly three years, and every step you took made you want to scamper back to base. You knew you were competent—Abby knew this too—but it didn't make any of the situation feel any less wrong.

"Listen, you and Owen know the area the best, I need my most capable people for this. These items are no joke."

On top of it all- he just had to partner you up with Owen for this.

He told you about how there's an emergency trip he wanted done by you. There was an extreme medical supply shortage, he thought he'd be able to hold it off for about another month or so but was proven wrong.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I had better options, I know Abby won't be too happy with me when she finds this out." She, Manny, and Nora had been on their own reconnoitering trip for a week before this; hence why she couldn't join you instead of—or at least alongside—Owen.

As much as you hated to admit, Isaac was right. So you begrudgingly obliged and started preparing soon after, since it was a spontaneous patrol rather than the typical planned ones.

A few days later, your beloved girlfriend returned from her stupidly long journey. You'd usually already be waiting for her the second she walked in. When she didn't spot you immediately, she didn't take it personally, making her way to your shared 'apartment', solely wanting to melt in your embrace after a difficult ten days. Along the way, everyone she met paths with lacked both the heart and the courage to tell her you wouldn't be waiting for her when she reached her destination.

"Baby? I'm back." She spoke softly upon entering your shared space, but said space now felt empty and lifeless. Abby's only companion was a small note you had left on her nightstand. It was short and sweet- explaining the situation to her, complaining about it, and then doing your best to reassure her in written words.

But your gentle words did little to ease her. Saying she was pissed was an understatement, she nearly stormed up to Isaac to tell him off for going against their agreement. But she caught herself, knowing it would accomplish nothing. Even so, she made no effort to hide her displeasure for the rest of the day, shooting him a glare that could cut through steel whenever he was in view. The helplessness of waiting, unable to do anything but sit and pray to any deity that might listen for your safety, was driving her crazy.

The weight of uncertainty hung heavy on her shoulders, amplifying her anxiety with each passing hour. Some might call her dramatic, you'd been able to hold your own before, you'd be able to hold your own now. But that didn't change the fact she didn't trust others with your life, especially Owen, of all people. He wasn't necessarily a bad partner, however, he was definitely when it came to you. It wasn't a secret that the two of you never really got along. And that could only add to the whiplash of how seamlessly teamwork flowed between you and Abby.

The next day, which you estimated would be your last one on patrol, you and Owen were on your way back, only a few hours away from base. The air was thick with anticipation, and every minute felt like an hour.

"If you just—no, give it to me," you snapped, snatching the map from his grip. You mumbled under your breath about his incompetence, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"So fuckin' prissy," he rolled his eyes, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.

"Yeah, 'cause you're such a delight to be around," you scoffed, barely holding it together after the past few days of dealing with him. The tension between you had been simmering, and it seemed on the verge of boiling over. He shot back another snarky comment, and you retorted with your own. The back-and-forth bickering served as a temporary distraction from your surroundings.

The landscape outside blurred as you focused on the argument, each exchange of words feeling like a small release of pent-up stress. But the sharp crack of gunfire abruptly shattered your argument, the sound slicing through the air with terrifying clarity. Your heart jumped into your throat. Perfect, a fucking ambush.

Surprisingly, the threat forced you both to act in sync. Owen's foot slammed on the gas pedal, and the car surged forward. You quickly leaned out the window, scanning the area for targets. Your senses sharpened, the adrenaline coursing through your veins heightening your awareness. Despite being outnumbered, the speed and protection of the car gave you a fleeting sense of advantage. For a moment, you almost believed you had the upper hand.

You should've known better than to get ahead of yourself.

Your body reacted before your mind could process what had happened. Your muscles tensed involuntarily, and your gun slipped from your grip, clattering onto your lap. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped your lips as the shock set in. "Shit—fuck," Owen muttered under his breath, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, accelerating even more. The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the ground as he pushed it to its limits, trying to outrun the danger.

Then the pain hit, a searing agony radiating from the right side of your neck and spreading through every nerve in your body. It felt like fire, intense and all-consuming, making you momentarily dizzy. You pressed a trembling hand to your neck, your fingers coming away slick with blood. You’d been shot. The bullet had grazed your neck.

You weren't sure if you were lucky or unlucky—the bullet had only scuffed your neck, just a few centimeters deep. It hurt like hell and limited your movement, but it hadn't damaged your vocal cords or vital blood vessels. The realization brought a mix of relief and dread, the pain clouding your thoughts. You did your best to stay up and alert, but the adrenaline started fading, and your exhaustion caught up. Slowly, your head lulled and the world went black.

"And you didn't fucking think to patch her up?" Muffled screaming was all you heard when you woke up.

"Up already?" Nora's unmistakable voice asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Well, I'm glad. She's been having a meltdown since you got back." The woman gestured towards the door, where you could still hear screaming from outside the room.

"So, you got shot." She started with the obvious. "It's nothing major—or shouldn't have been." Her voice was laced with slight annoyance. "Owen drove nearly two hours with you bleeding out beside him. Even with a small wound, it did some extra damage." She explained the do's and don'ts, giving you a little rundown of what you were in for.

"I'll bring Abby here, let her know you're awake and all," Nora said, patting your arm gently. You nodded, as much as you could manage. "Thanks a lot, Nora."

"'Course," she replied with a smile before opening the door. "Hey, your girl's up," was the last thing you heard before Nora was out of view and Abby rushed in.

When her all-too-recognizable form bustled to your side, you sat up properly, extending your arms for a long-overdue hug. At first, Abby wanted to examine you, to make sure you were alright, before allowing herself to indulge in the much-needed affection she craved from you. She hesitated, her eyes scanning for any signs of distress or pain. But the sweet look on your face when your eyes met, and your eagerness to just hold her, made her decide it was alright to give in to her wants. With a soft sigh, she melted into your embrace, wrapping her strong arms around you tightly, both of you savoring the comforting warmth of being together again.

After a few moments of satisfying each other's need for tenderness, you both let go, though she kept her hands on you, moving them to your shoulders. Her left hand slowly and ever so gently inched up your neck, studying the bandages wrapped around your wound.

"I'm fine, really. Nora did a good job patching me up," you reassured her with a smile, moving your own hand to rest on hers. You softly caressed up and down her arm, trying to comfort her. Her eyes were filled with concern, but your touch seemed to ease some of her worries.

"If I was there…" she started, but you didn't let her finish, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I know, I know. I didn't like being out without you either, but I'm all good, 'kay?" The look on her face told you she wanted to say more. To tell you that it's not okay because she should've been there, to protect you. Instead, she settled on, "Owen's a dumbass." Which caused you to start giggling.

"Yeah, he really is," you agreed, the tension breaking as you both shared a lighthearted moment.

Abby stared at you laughing, it felt like a weight had just been lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe again. She leaned down, her blonde strands tickling your face slightly while she pressed gentle kisses to your lips and cheeks.

You let yourself soak in the quiet aftermath, in the adoration and security she showered you in. Finally safe in Abby's arms.

Yes, I'm back, again. Hope you guys missed me cause I missed you, might open requests soon too!

[yan-critter]

As you slip into a passing crowd at the train station, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Trying to calm your nerves, a figure catches your eye – Standing tall and regal, Jing Yuan is as alluring as ever. His presence is comforting, a familiar face that brings you a sense of safety at the mere sight of him.

You’re quick to approach him, hoping that just seeing the large man will deter whoever was tailing you. Luckily, Jing Yuan has always been friendly, and before you know it  you’re both exchanging small talk and light jokes, a comfortable ambiance settling between you. But as you stand beside him, you can’t help the creeping feeling that something is… wrong. You didn’t notice it before, but your nerves are alight with paranoia, and Jing Yuan's demeanor seems slightly off today.

His gaze lingering a fraction too long, his smile a touch too strained.

You brush off the unease, attributing it to fatigue. He’s probably stressed from work and is trying not to let it show, that’s all. But as the conversation progresses, his questions become increasingly invasive as the area begins to empty out, leaving only you and him.

You try to excuse yourself, quickly growing uncomfortable as you make up some excuse about plans you didn’t have. But Jing Yuan isn’t backing down, and his hands shoot out to grab at you, the grip on your shoulders tightening like a vice. His tone grows more urgent, his eyes glinting with a fervent desire that sends shivers down your spine. Every attempt to free yourself from his hold only seems to make him more frantic. His words become erratic, and he begins spouting confessions of love to you that border on demented.

Panic sets in as you realize the depth of Jing Yuan's fixation, his infatuation with you so obvious that you're not quite sure how you had missed it. With each passing moment, the once-dependable General transforms into a haunting specter of obsession, his presence downright suffocating. From behind, you hear the train come to a stop as Dan Heng and March 7th call out to you. Jing Yuan falters at their presence and you take the chance, finally managing to break free from his grasp. You quickly make your way across the platform, ignoring your companion's confused looks as you board the Astral Express, heart racing and mind swirling with the memory of his unsettling behavior. As you reach your room, mind beginning to clear, one single thought lingers in the back of your mind.

Just who was watching you?

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 21

Prompt: Tentacles Pairing: roommate!Seonghwa x renter!reader   WC: 3k   Summary: So...that’s how he keeps everything so clean.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Seonghwa or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: unrealistic penetration, tentacle fucking, alien dick, “making it fit”, fem sex characteristics, overstimulation.

 The man was nice and the room was cheap. You know you’ve heard a horror story that began the same way but you can’t place which one or how it ended. He really didn’t seem all that strange except for one strange line in the sublease.  “Forewarn the roommate of any activity concentrated in shared living quarters between the hours of 1-5am.” You read aloud sitting across the coffee table from him.  “I’m extremely sensitive to light and sound, you see,” he leeds, apologetically hiding behind his bangs. “In exchange I take care of the cleaning of the shared areas. I think it’s fair, I like to keep things tidy anyway.” He laughs so non-chalantely it alarms you, staring into his big brown eyes.

 For the most part the arrangement was easy and the apartment was spotless. You didn’t see a need to be out in the shared areas any later than 10pm, slinking off to your room.  That night though, lying awake in bed scrolling, you broke the deal. You didn’t think much of it. It was a cough, you needed water. Surely you could get a glass of water at 2am. You really didn’t think much.  Door creaking open, the over-the-stove light in the kitchen shone like a beacon in the distance. It was a short throw from your door down the hall to the kitchen. You could see it. Nothing to disturb your roommate. Stepping lightly, you’re so focused on not making your own noise you don’t notice the soft rhythmic scratching of a melomane sponge against tile. Several sponges against tile.  Feet away from the arch you almost do a little dance out of glee as you think you’ve made it to safety. Instead as you round the corner you freeze. Seonghwa’s back is to you, pale and lean, with 4 thick purple tendrils stretching out to various surfaces. Two work in tandem on the stove, another scrubs the grout around the sink, and the last holds a small cup of tea out of the way.  You gasp.  Seonghwa wheels around to face you, both of you draining of color.  “Water.” You croak.  His eyes flash with anger. “It’s 2am.”  Your mouth moves but no words come out. Both of you stare at each other as the two tentacles working on the stove pause and reach for the glassware cabinet and fridge, pulling out the pitcher of water and filling a large glass. They flex and shimmer as they perform the task, but you’re unable to pull your eyes from his glare to look closer. Instinctively you reach for the glass as it passes in front of you, just out of your arms length. You want to let him know it’s okay. That really you saw nothing or would pretend if he wanted to pretend or if he wanted to talk you were equally as happy to do that. Instead he steps forward to claim the glass, appendages bobbing in place, almost as though they were watching the interaction with their own curiosity.

 Slowly he extends his arm to you, long dainty fingers wrapped around the offending glass which you snatch from him, nearly sloshing some of the precious water over the edge and onto the floor, or worse, his hand.  Shaking as you turn heel you hear him over your shoulder as you hurry back to your room.  “I hope it's as refreshing as you wished.”

 You can’t stop thinking about it, him, the tentacles. Strange and beautiful, like him. Millions of inappropriate questions invade your mind. Everything from the mundane to the horny. How did they work? Could he feel what they felt? Did he use them to jerk off? What do they feel like? Is it only the four? Can they change thickness? Screaming internally for the thoughts to stop you hold up in your room for the week, only dashing out quickly to grab cold leftovers and to use the bathroom. Anything to avoid him. To avoid his judgment. Avoid his wrath. The entire apartment is eerily quiet at all hours now. No jovial clink of utensils against the sink basin, no beeping of the electric kettle. Just silence.  Until there is a knock on your door. There the man himself stands, long strands of hair pulled up into a small ponytail at the crown of his head.  “You’re still here,” he states bluntly.  “I can leave,” you can’t look him in the face, instead opting to hang your head to the ground. “I don’t want to but if you- I-” your voice shakes. “I don’t mind them though. I would continue living here knowing. If you don’t mind me not minding.”  The slim man looks you up and down silently. Neither of you move from your spots.  “You can even leave them out when you want,” you hastily blurt under the burn of his gaze.  He shifts back on his heels, tilting his head in thought. Your eyes cast down, shoulders caving in on your chest, he can tell you’re not much of a threat to him.  “I just…need the room, I can’t afford to move right now-”  “If money is what’s keeping you here-” Seonghwa interrupts cooly, stiffening at the mention of finances.  “I like them,” you blurt hastily, embarrassment lighting your entire body on fire from your inside out. “They’re…interesting. I want to know more. I like you, you’ve never judged me. Fuck I like the neighborhood. And if it’s just the fucking uh…extra bits…that you’re afraid of me running around and blabbing to everyone about then you clearly don’t understand how few fucking friends I have.”  Heart skipping beats as you stand your ground, one hand on the door and one on the frame, bracing yourself in the arch, defending your small place of comfort. Slowly you see the forms of the tentacles weaving under his shirt, tips of two emerging alongside his arms and seemingly shaking themselves fuller.  Seonghwa nods, “okay, if that’s your choice.” He turns shrugging and walks back down the hall to the kitchen, “sad about the friends though. You should get a hobby.”  You nearly collapse at the door from relief. Barely able to contain your glee as you close the door quietly.

 Seonghwa does start to use his tentacles more freely around you for increasingly more mundane tasks. At first continuing to use them during his cleaning sessions only but cleaning now when you were around.  As he grew more confident, so did his physical comfort with you did too. Or, the tentacles comfort with you was maybe the right way to put it. Slowly you’d seen him start to spread out, leaving the semi-translucent appendages lolling about while he relaxed. You still hadn’t asked if they acted on their own or under his direction or a little of both. The more you observed the clearer it was that occasionally they’d simply take care of things for him, grabbing a glass of water while he cooked, fixing his hair away from his face, itching spots for him while he sat. Partially acting like a cats tail, tensing during action sequences in games and movies.  Oddly although he seemed to show no additional interest in you, they did. Slowly but surely creeping farther into your personal boundary. Not that you were innocently waiting for them. You too had started taking up more space, no longer hiding like a mouse in a hole. Instead lounging around the common areas more now, with less secrets to hide, letting your limbs slowly but surely make their way past the middle boundaries into sharing the space with his.  Until you finally touch.  Your foot twitches just so, big toe brushing against a lax tentacle laying to the side of your leg, tip almost reaching to your kneecap but careful not to touch.  Both of your heads jump from your phones to stare at the other as your limbs retract in a hurry, ironically answering one of your burning questions. He can totally feel through them.  “Sorry-” you both start to apologize to the other, Seonghwa reaching out his hands to you, eyes wide.  “I didn’t mean to invade-” Seonghwa tries to bully his way into apologizing first but you continue undaunted.

 “-my legs are just so tired-”  “-it’s just been so nice to spread out-”  “-I liked it, I just-”  Seonghwa pauses, brows raised. Finally ready to listen to you.  Taking a deep breath your fingers run nervously over your thighs. “I hope this isn’t overstepping and I swear it wasn’t on purpose. I worked out really hard and my legs are just still so sore and they just twitch sometimes. I just didn’t want to…offend you?”  He looks at you puzzled. “Offend?”  “Can I…touch…one?” You can barely look at him as heat creeps the side of your face.  Slowly a tendril bobs its way into your peripheral vision, it looks almost inquisitive as the tip points at you. Tilting your head towards it, you reach out the back of your hand like you would to an animal that was easily startled. Ever so cautiously you glance the back of your first finger over it. It’s softer than you’d imagined and not nearly as sticky. You try to hold back the slight gasp of shock.  “You okay?” Seonghwa tries to catch your eyes fruitlessly. “It takes a certain type of person to be both okay with and interested in this side of me.”  The admission that others had asked before, that others knew, you look up from your trance. “How many know?”

 “Enough,” he chuckles wryly, “probably too many.” Tentatively the appendage curls around your first finger as you pet it. “You’re doing well so far,” he clears his throat, “it’s nice to feel someone else for once, someone kind.”

 Once again a flood of questions burbles below the surface of your thoughts, tamped back by a dam of respectability. You purse your lips and unwind your finger from the tiny embrace to cup the thing in your hands. “It’s just so much softer than I thought. How can you grab things, it just seems like they’d slip-” your stream of thoughts bursts over the top, surfacing only the dumbest most inane questions in your roaster. “-how many are there? Can you make more or are there a set amount forever? Are they you or a part of you or like can they think for themselves-’

 The tendril turns and winds in your palm, flipping itself to the underside. Tiny suckers tucked neatly flush to the skin extend out, almost as an answer. Curling around the tip of your thumb one latches on for a half second, squeezing just enough to stop your babbling. Strong enough to make you gasp.

Seonghwa full belly laughs, his distant exterior cracking. “Do I need to make a powerpoint or would you like a demonstration?”

 “Demonstration,” you blurt. The tentacle in your palm twists itself around your thumb. It stretches to follow you as you level your hand in front of your eyes. It’s iridescent shimmer seemingly pulses through like blood being pushed through veins. The surface tenses and morphs, elongating to an elegant point, reaching towards your face. Cautiously it touches your lower lip, the smooth body has nearly imperceptible layer of film that clings behind. Seonghwa tries to hold back his expression, eyes rolling back with a small shudder.

 Pulling your lower lip into your mouth and between your teeth on instinct, a sweet flavor makes your taste buds drool. “Strawberry?” You search his face but he’s unreadable.

 “What else did you want to know?” His voice shakes.

 “How strong-”

 “How do you want me to show you?” The tentacle unwinds and waits. Bobbing quizzically along side him.

 “Strong enough to lift me?” You stand hesitantly and turn in front of him.

 Seonghwa chuckles softly. A second, heftier tentacle snakes from behind him, wrapping itself around your waist like a belt before fitting itself between your thighs. Your heart drops to your cunt as it throbs. “Brace yourself,” the man orders in a near whisper as he steps up closer to you. The appendage tightens and lifts you upwards, just enough so your toes leave the carpet. Your friend from before nuzzles its way into your hand to help stabilize your torso but your foot is already hooked around Seonghwa’s leg, pulling him closer.

 “You’re excited,” he barely breathes, tentacle wriggling against you. “I can-”

 “-do they help with that too?”

 His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard, nodding rapidly.

 Fingers slip below his shirt, bundles of shimmering tendrils seeming to materialize as you drag him free of it. Two of them slide along your sides to your chest, circling your breasts with their tiny suction cups kissing your skin creating sparkes of arousal with each motion. You barely notice as you’re lowered to the mattress, legs held aloft in two more of them.

 “We’ll go slow,” Seonghwa gulps, hands running over the winding trail of thigh and tentacle which glow light pink in response. His presence radiates quiet strength, you trust him. Head lolling back you close your eyes to simply feel him.

 You look so peaceful as your chest rises and falls, decorated by his soft pink pulsing swirls. Mouth watering, he crawls face first between your legs, his tongue is long and strong enough he thinks. At least to start. Thumbs spreading your slit he sighs, head spinning with the full force of your pheromones. Seonghwa dives hungrily into you, licking ferociously.

 The tentacles hold firmly against your sudden pleased writhing, allowing some movement but miraculously keeping your legs aloft and Seonghwa’s head uncrushed. The helpers on your chest nudge your pebbled nipples lightly, illciting a pleased moan of encouragement. Tiny suckers latch to the sensitive skin surrounding them. Swirling and sucking and moving independently yet somehow as one. It’s hard to tell if the strong muscle fucking into your hole is his tongue or yet another tentacle, if the pressure on your clit is his lips or a sucker. Not that it would really impact your enjoyment of the experience.

 “You’re just as delicious as you smell,” Seonghwa practically purrs as his hands wander your stomach. “Even more resilient than you look.”

 “Wanna-taste-you-” you pant. “Issnot fair.”

 A tentacle slides, warm, up your stomach, between your breasts, and stops hovering near your lips. “Didn’t get enough before?” Seonghwa chuckles darkly. He looks less like the shy, dodgy roommate you’d known, more animalistic. “Funny little greedy thing. You aren’t afraid? You know nothing of me. You think you can take me.”

 “I want to take you.”

 Your resolute whisper sends a shiver through every one of his appendages. Deadly serious. So he lets you, the tentacle moves closer, brushing over your soft lips, waiting for your next move. Your tongue flicks over the tip without any hesitation, pulling more of it into your warm mouth. The tentacle doesn’t so much as thrust but swell and taper, simulating the tension of the movement without the friction. It tastes like the most perfectly sun ripened strawberry, no overwhelming lingering tartness or disappointing watery afternote, pure sweet sun.

 Seonghwa doesn’t wait longer, his own senses fizzing and popping with each eager slurp. His eyes lock on your slick cunt as the blunt tip of his breeding tentacle presses against the entrance. Knobbly and stiffer than the others, a flicker of fear passes through your body. He watches as your lips part for him, stretching around to accommodate the thickness. Your stomach tenses and hollows as the dull ache hits you.

 “Just a bit more, I’ll make it fit,” Seonghwa barely manages to murmur, thumb passing over your clit and rubbing soft circles around it. “I don’t think this one can get your kind…” he trails off sounding almost a little disappointed.

 Your entire body is positively vibrating as more eases into you until you swear you can feel him in your stomach no matter how physically impossible it might be. Slowly you feel him move in and out, the knobs making themselves known to your tender walls. He’s so careful not to go too fast, to savor every drag. Seonghwa barely blinks as he watches you coat the tentacle in orgasm after orgasm, a ring of release forming. He doesn’t even mind the mess being made of his carpet. Your eyelids flutter open and shut, your full weight collapsing as your strength wains, lazily suckling the tendril between your lips.

 “One more, you can do one more, right? My good pet. You can.” His faith in the human form is unwavering, feeding off your relentless clenching around him. Palm pressing to your abdomend, to the spot where you swear he’s nearly bursting through, the simple caress melts whats left of your sanity. Carefully he slides his human cock in alongside the massive appendage, a soft whine vibrates your lips on him. The rhythm he sets is brutal, thrusting in and out opposite of the other. The soft silky warmth of your walls contracts around them weakly. Chasing his high, he lets the appendages have their way, a little harsher than he would’ve normally had them. The suckers leave small red spots in their wake, sure to bruise tomorrow. The tendril in your mouth thrusts deeper, popping past the ring of muscle in your throat and forcing you to gag. Spit bubbles around your lips as you gasp and wriggle, your body fighting exhaustion and overwhelming pleasure.

 Seonghwa’s hands hold your hips firmly as his hips stutter, releasing deep into your cunt with an almost pained high caught whine. His tendrils still and contract back, seizing and twitching. Sparkling with each jolt. His fingers trace over your worn hole, sensitive and puffy.

 “You humans are something.”

Idk if you can tell but I had a grander vision for this one and it burned me out severely because I couldn’t get the images in my head onto paper and it KEEELLLLS me. Anyway i’m sorry this one kinda sucks, it hurts because tentacles are my FAVORITE trope.

[sherlockhomies-42]

Holy shit so like yeah the bug bit me and I spat out two chapters in one day...anyway here's chapter 2 enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death has returned, Heaven is disturbed

Chapter 2

Almost all at once, a cold shiver ran through the denizen's of Hell and their Overlord's,

A kind of cold some of the haven't felt in ages; if ever in the millenia of afterlife they've lived.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine, the King of Hell sits up straight in his seat, putting the rubber duvk he was workingon down with shaking hands as he felt himself break out into a cold shivering sweat like he hadn't felt in eons.

Death has awoken

He shot up from his seat at his table, rubber ducks falling to the ground and squeaking as they land only further drives his senses into overdrive. His mind begins to race a million miles an hour thinking of many things until his mind crosses to his dear daughter.

If Death is awake here... What of his daughters immortal status? Her safety from the extermination?

What of his?

--------------------------------------------

Death flapped her wings for what felt like forever until she began to get closer and closer to the ring of light, As she draws closer and closer she braces her mind for the slip thru the veil. 'Here comes chaos'

--------------------------------------------

Meanwhile in Heaven

(Just for like a sec)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A violent tremors shook thru the lowest level of Heaven closest to the barriers between the paradise and the hellish rings below.

Panicked angels and heavenly souls scream on fear as Angels try to keep them calm whilst they investigate the disturbance;

Seraphim and Emily immediately emerge from their soul arrival area upon the first feeling of the tremors.

"SERA! What's going on?!? What's happening?" Emily yelped in horror as chuncks of concrete from the buildings of Heaven broke loose and smashed to dust around them.

Sera looked around at the same view that just minutes before was so peaceful, was now thrown into utter chaos as Angels and souls alike run and are struck by falling rocks and debris

Her voice shook as she look at her sister and weakly said "I do not know" and clutched her as close as possible whilst dodging out of the way of more falling rocks and shattering glass, whilst her sister yelled and screamed in her arms.

Sera noticed in horror that everyone who was crushed was not moving. Regular souls sure if enough damage was done but Angels? They should be able to get back up from such seemingly small injuries, but to her horror they just lay there; bleeding golden ichor and limp as a corpse.

The two seraphim take flight and dodge out of the way of any remaining falling debris as the tempura finally begins to cease, they gather wit the survivors and look on in terror as their once beautiful peaceful home is in chaos and tatters.

Emily looks to her older sister after seeing their fellow angels unmoving and bloody with no signs of stopping.

"What has happened to our home Sera? How could this happen to Heaven?" Tears well in the young girls eyes as her sister takes her in her arms in comfort as she glares out into the madness.

"I don't know why this has happened, Iusteet with the Heavenly council immediately to asses the damages done, you are to return to our home as fast as you are able and stay inside until I come back."

Emily looks to her sister with admiration at her ability to stay so calm, she pulls from her arms with a nod and her wings pull her up and away from the rubble as quickly as possible, not noticing the trepidation on her sisters face.

Sera turns to her fellow angels and takes a deep breath as to calm herself whilst the others are in hysterics over their friends and family's sudden second deaths. She opens her eyes and speaks out;

"Everyone please calm yourselves, I'm sure there's an explanation, I must immediately take to the heavenly council to discuss the damage and how we can begin to rebuild."

An angel screamed out

"WHAT ABOUT THE DEAD ANGELS?!?"

Another followed as the crowd of survivors begin to become rowdy again

"WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IMMORTAL"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?!"

Before anything can spiral further out of control Sera raises her hands and silences everyone.

"Calm yourselves please, I do not know why this has happened, I must meet with the council and weust get an answer from our Father. The only one who could know why is Him, trust I will be swift with the information and Come to you all as soon as I can."

With the raging angels complacent for now, Sera turns to the sky and flys as fast as her wings will take her to the council room with a grimace across her face.

'everything we have worked so hard to make happen here in Heaven could be compromised if this is real'

She stops up short as she thinks of who else could've been causing trouble in heaven

'I need to speak to Lili-'

She is stopped in her thoughts as she sees the other scattered council members shooting up to the council room in the cloud, she curses herself and shoots up to the sky.

"I can only hope that this isn't what I think it is'

I'm all her heavenly wisdom, She couldn't even begin to understand what has been set in motion.

[nshtn]

Wesker gives his lab partner and fellow researcher their testosterone shot. His clinical precision mingles with a quiet fondness that leaves them grappling the weight of his attention and the growing, unspoken pull between them.

1.4k, tags: medical - medplay, needle, suggestive (to me), transmasc reader / most behaviorally canon wesker i've ever written, long logorrheic wesker x reader... have fun <3

@weskie @herothefangirl @michace gently booping you guys 'cause i made tumblr equivalent of eye contact with you u-u i hope you don't mind

You were worried Wesker would reject you, somehow.

It was what you were used to, you figured, even when he'd not minded your top surgery scars at all when you had spilled an abrasive chemical and had to swiftly change, as per safety protocols.

He’d ran his fingers over the incision scars back then, traced the lines with an almost clinical curiosity, swept his touch across the skin as if appraising something rare. He’d commented on the surgeon’s technique, even adding that, had he met you earlier, he would have offered to perform the procedure himself. His eyes held a fascination that made your skin burn under the weight of his attention. You asked if he thought they were ugly, and he told you he thought they were beautiful, and then you'd said no more about it because nobody had ever told you that.

So why were you afraid now?

It was probably paranoia – trained over years of feeling like you had to make up for the invisible deficit in your personal truth. It was TRICELL, after all. They were not the paragon of acceptance, though Wesker had divulged to you the knowledge that he had to hide much of himself from Umbrella that was never even a consideration of an issue at TRICELL, and told you not to worry about it.

You supposed the stone-cold neutrality of the company should comfort you, then. But you found its’ vacuous space did not – because in the lack of warmth, you found the seed of resentment could take root and easily grow.

It was a fear that tugged at your labcoat some days, but ripped at it on others.

There was no use in hiding, though. You were already in his lab, sitting on the swivel stool he’d been in moments prior. It was still warm.

You distracted yourself with your surroundings – you noticed how he’d left the paper he was writing face up on the desk instead of removing or flipping it like he always did when others stepped in the room, and how neat and orderly everything was.

He was well known for his control; the mythos that was whispered about by others was that his sense of control was strong enough to ground him into reality and keep him from turning, though you personally attributed it to viral compatibility. It was a conversation you’d had with him earlier in your working relationship when you’d been assigned as a temporary lab partner that had initially had him quirk a brow and dispense you the first compliment of many.

That control had spiraled until it collided with your life as you two became acquainted with one another, trickling into small acts that built up and up until… now.

You weren’t blind to it: the ‘offers’ to review your work (though never forced upon you), the way he knew your schedule better than you did, how he’d comment on your techniques—always so precise, so observant. He eclipsed your skills in many areas, though there were others where you could stand as his equal or even surpass him. He made the effort to learn things outside his expertise, areas that touched on your research.

You told yourself you were grateful for it – his attention, his minding, the way he’d praise you when you beat him in a debate or when you immersed yourself fully in your work, where others flinched at the thought of engaging him like he was untouchable.

Now, though, as he re-entered the room with the vial and syringe in his hands, the weight of his attention and the trust you had to place in him felt heavy on your shoulders.

You chewed your bottom lip as he pushed the shaft of it into the vial, all the way to the beginning of its’ hub, and then pulled back on the plunger, barrel filling with white, odorless liquid.

It could have easily been ordered at the in-house pharmacy pre-filled. He valued the comfort in showing you his process, you realized. No contamination.

“You’ve been forgetting to rotate your injection sites,” he said, no pretense of preamble as he knelt, examining your exposed thigh as if doing your coworker’s testosterone injections was normal, merely part of a fixed routine. He read your posture and the unfiltered attention of his gaze made you uncomfortable, but, god, it made your pulse quicken, too. You silently prayed he wouldn’t read behind your eyes into the power he held.

He did, though. He must. Why else would he be doing this?

You blinked, though, thrown off by the comment. You employed the best tactics in your work, but you were negligent with yourself. “I have?” Old habits die hard, you guessed.

“I’ve noticed, yes,” he replied, voice gentle and firm, like it was splittingly obvious his attentions would be drawn to you. “It’s not optimal for tissue absorption or health.” He sounded like a textbook, but the way his voice softened made your chest tighten. He didn’t talk this way to anyone else, as far as you were aware; he always held a firm edge to it, commanding.

Before you could respond, he placed his hand on your thigh. His movement was precise and practiced, and though it was clinical, it betrayed itself with its’ slow, deliberate pacing.

He offered a space to reject each step of his advance on you. You looked so nervous.

“Would you rather I not do this?” he asked, his eyes shifting off you and to the syringe in his left hand. He held it steady in the air and his hand disappeared from you to flick its’ barrel twice with his right, a column of air bubbles rising to the top. Then, he pushed the plunger, letting the trapped air escape until a bead formed at its' obsidian tip.

You felt tense, but you shook your head, letting out a breath you weren’t aware you held. “No, I… appreciate this.” You did. You didn't want to hamper your transition or injure your leg. This is perfectly normal, you lie to yourself.

He moved closer, now, and his right hand returned, spreading the skin of your thigh and pressing down lightly on the soft flesh. The texture of his gloved fingers against your skin sent an odd thrill through you – a reminder of how much power he held in them, something he wielded so carefully around you for reasons just out of your mind’s reach.

The needle pierced your skin with practiced mastery. You winced, much to your embarrassment, but Wesker’s hand grounded you. It burned as it filled your thigh, the thick oil that made it bursting past muscle fibers pulled taut. If he heard you, he made no comment. He went very, very slowly. It made you swallow dryly.

“There,” he murmured after the last of it went in, withdrawing the needle carefully. But then, his hand lingered, thumb brushing your thigh as if committing the moment to memory.

Then, he rose. “You should order it suspended in proprionate next time.” He follows it up with a quiet clarification, "Hurts less." There it was.

You feel the lingering warmth of his touch even after he’s risen. There’s a silence between you, choked with something unspoken, an anticipation that stitched your mouth shut.

You pushed against it to find your words.

“Suspended in proprionate,” you repeat, voice unsure of its’ footing as you tugged your pants back over the freshly injected site with burning cheeks, trying to regain your normalcy. There is, however, no out to his gaze and proximity.

You teeter on the edge of something you do not know the depths of, and you don’t know if stepping forward is wrong or right. His affections…–

Wesker didn’t pay it heed – or maybe he did. His control was as impeccable as always, a slate you couldn’t read. Then, you saw it as his eyes shifted to you: his reptilian pupils dilated with a fondness undeniable as they savored your flush. The corners of his lips tilted faintly upwards in approval. “Next time,” he repeated, and then he turned away to dispose of the empty syringe.

A quiet invitation you found yourself taking.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Sorry for sending another ask so soon, but-

Don't be shy, spit the frog (italian way to say spill the tea)

I WANNA KNOWWWNWNFNGNG

okay i'm spilling some of the frogs, the tea, I WILL DESEMBUCHAR (word for spilling the truth in portuguese)

springtrap and bell (ballora) do know each other but from a certain distance (he's with the phantoms, and she belongs in the funtime crew). there's never this 'strange feeling' that they've met before because, literally... they never met!

the reason for them to be arguing a lot is due to remnant usage, whose importance is constantly brought up in the universe of BTC. springtrap uses them for his own selfish purposes, while bell is searching for more to help a friend stay active, amongst other reasons that involve the safety and entertainment of backstage residents.

bell is one of the very few bots that has directly confronted springtrap for his actions and usual mean behavior (sometimes on the same level of aggressiveness, other times a single glare is enough). she refuses to stay silent and reality downs on him that the stuff he's saying and doing is harming people.

they are basically the closest thing to human adults in this digitalized city of ghost children, with bell sacrificing a lot more of her time protecting those around her than springtrap (especially before they met)

bell is a chaotic, stubborn altruistic type paired up with self-destructive tendencies as a defense mechanism, considering she is painfully aware of her purpose as a child killing, remnant harvester robot. springtrap contrasts that part of her personality by being aloof, cautious and egocentric, and by pushing others away, acting as if the world revolves around his success in escaping UCN and becoming one with the entity. these contrasting traits often generate conflict, especially later on, when more secrets are revealed.

i like to think they help each other learn from their mistakes with this dumb, tom and jerry beef they have going on, but saying there's any hint of romantic love between them in the beginning feels objectively wrong (considering the amount of times springtrap has said hurtful and otherwise mean things to her).

both are competitive by nature. expect them to be counting how many remnants they caught in a single night.

the more they get to know each other the more they display their true selves, ofc. springtrap has a quieter, observant, genuinely concerned side where he listens instead of talking over people in that loud, cheeky and arrogant tone. bell seems to be a lot more of an anxious and impatient person, thoughts racing at all times and sometimes causing her to shut everyone out. black cat and orange cat behavior, respectively.

they often debate about human nature and the limits of artificial intelligence, and how they, two self-aware small pieces of a larger puzzle stuck in a digital dimension, fit inside these two labels. both are detached from either concepts, meanings losing importance the further they investigate. still, that doesn't stop them from displaying unwavering support whenever one is lost and afraid (works for both).

hand on shoulder, "are you alright?" glances, lending his cape, handmade gifts and favors. springtrap doesn't know how to be comforting, but he makes an effort.

he's more comfortable being secretive and working behind the curtains. events like claw machines suddenly functioning again, entire stages being repaired in a single night, random input of remnants in the electrical system, abandoned areas appearing tidy and organized... (they still wonder who's behind it all...)

when bell first showed up at the workshop for a simple repairs session, he took off her illusion disks and disabled the part of her programming that submitted to William Afton's orders. with that, the entity lost influence over her actions, and as a consequential effect, her eyes glow a bright yellow color, instead of the usual pink/purple hue.

compliments (lots of them), getting excited over the other's achievements, eagerly asking about their favorite topics. bell is that "saw this meme and thought of you" type of person.

scolding. both scold each other all the time. scolding as in "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING" and "oh wow that's the greatest idea you've ever had. i'm surprised we aren't dead because of your absolute GENIUS of a plan (/loudly sarcastic)"

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Shadow (Dark Link x Reader x Link)

Summary: The reader accidentally stumbles into Dink's boss room while scouting ahead for monsters.

MASTERLIST Warnings: 18+ themes such as gore, graphic descriptions of death and fatal injury, emotional/psychological manipulation, etc. coming up. Reader actually dies and is revived. This story is not suitable for small children and easily disturbed individuals.

The temple is completely silent aside from the moves of yourself and your best friend, Link. At first he'd warned you to stay in the safety of Kakariko, but lost that argument when you'd held your own in a sparring match.

Now, the two of you gaze upon the expanse of the room you'd emerged from. Lots of water, as expected, fills the area. You notice a plethora of hookshot points, platforms, and tectites. None of them see you or Link as you swim past them to a hallway entrance. You find that it leads to an underwater passage.

In fact, most hallways do, you realize as you trail Link throughout the temple. Most of that trailing is spent picking off monsters Link can't get to, helping point out puzzle solutions, and quickly stealing Navi's attention if her timing is inopportune. Conversation between Link and yourself is scarce, both a strategic decision and a comfortable one, especially for you. Too many other things might come up right now, things that will cause more problems than will be solved if you choose silence. So you do, especially underwater, where magic is your lifeline. Both you and Link have fully stocked up on bottles of magic for this reason.

That magic almost goes to waste when a sing-song voice calls Link's name. You resist a gasp as your attention is drawn to the literal princess who produced it. How in Hylia's name is she here? You suppose, as the sacred house to the water medallion, it's technically still part of the Zora domain, but you distinctly remember hearing how all of Hyrule's royalty is dead, hiding, or otherwise decommissioned. Perhaps Ruto is safe here? When you look to Link's face to read his expression, he looks shocked and semi-afraid.

"It's me! Your fiancée! Ruto! I never forgot our vows from seven years ago." The princess' words horrify the hero and leave you nearly choking again. Fiancée? Vows? Seven years? She's not serious, is she? "You were so mean to keep me waiting," definitely serious, "but this moment can't be for love. My domain, I know you saw it's completely frozen! A man named Sheik freed me from the ice. The others haven't woken, so I need your help to save them! As my future husband it's your duty!" Ruto, finally ready to drop the marriage topic, proceeds to explain the temple's three water control points, and even leads you to one of them. She's gone by the time you and Link reach the top, most likely continuing ahead without you.

Link reads over the symbols on the wall, muttering to himself the whole time you're inspecting this tiny room. A soothing song comes from that ocarina of his mere moments later. The water level lowers, much to your intrigue. Magic must be part of the architecture here, you think. Instead of vocalizing your curiosity about the subject, you wordlessly follow Link into the next room and help pick off the monsters you find, grabbing the map out of the chest that appears. After examining it, you decide to head back for the bottom floor. The string of rooms brimming with monsters and puzzles begins with that simple jump down. A puzzle, a new room, some monsters, a key. This process repeats twice to get you to the second water control point, which also has to be activated through song.

This one raises the water, although not as high as it was earlier, allowing you and Link to enter a newly revealed passage. It leads deeper into the temple, where the new area leads to a puzzle, more monsters, and another key.

"Is this what every temple is like?" You ask, fingers tapping against your weapon's grip point.

"Yep." Link grunts as he stores the key in his satchel. "There's usually more foes than this," he adds. Your chest swells and tightens at the same time, your eyes going wide with a harsh realization. He could die here. You could both die here. What if one of you gets fatally injured in the midst of a difficult battle? It would be a choice between saving the other person or trying to fight off the monsters quick enough to still have time to do so. What if you ran out of healing items?

"We should split up soon," you find yourself blurting, partially for good reason and partially for the selfishness of not wanting to potentially see Link die.

"Why?" He asks firmly. He was difficult to persuade when it came to your accompaniment, you hope this might be easier.

"We have no idea what to expect in here! Monsters, items, locked doors, sure we know that. Not what kind of monsters, or how many, or where any of those item chests might be. Plus, if you run out of supplies before we split up, I'd be able to smash a jar here and there to bring you back more."

At your words, the same reluctance from Kakariko this morning crosses his face. You know Navi can identify new monsters for him, but you also latch onto the glimmer of consideration adorning his eyes at your offer to pick some off and scavenge for extra items.

"Fine," he finally says, hesitance mostly gone. Warmth blooms in you at his trust that you can handle yourself on that level. This isn't something any random Hylian can handle. You keep that thought in the front of your mind as Link dives back in the direction you came from. You follow soon after.

The third and final water control point sits above a room containing a water geyser puzzle. You draw your bow to shoot the crystal once you and Link both stand on it, raising you to the door leading to the control point. With the water only partially filling the temple, the point you've entered appears to be a vantage point over the temple's main area. It becomes level with everything else when Link brings the water up, and on you go to the next locked door.

You instantly shoot down two waiting keese on the wall behind the door, returning it to your gear when no more show up. Link yanks you back as you attempt to step further into the room. You're preparing to be annoyed, but immediately take notice of how the room is built. You would have fallen clean off the area you now stand on and landed on a platform about 10 feet below you. That platform leads to more platforms, one of which sits on the same wall and four others slowly fall down a waterfall's current. You groan when you notice the hookshot platforms. Link laughs softly beside you.

"The hookshot is uncomfortable!" You whine in defense, while a much worse feeling creeps up your spine. How many rooms has it been since you last encountered a monster? "Tell you what, I have to get used to it anyway. Let me scout ahead now! I'll tell you all about the next puzzles when I come back," you hastily promise before snatching the hookshot from Link. You cross the room before you can back down and before he can protest. The next room, another hookshot puzzle which contains a crystal, almost makes you want to rip your hair out. You don't, instead keeping a cool head as you pass through the room, alternating between bow and hookshot to activate the crystal and cross gaps between the platforms.

You're about to celebrate when you see one last hookshot point, but your face goes pale when you notice spikes directly underneath it and a slime creature bigger than you waiting on the other side. With sword drawn, you hook onto the ceiling, immediately doing a downwards spin-slash to finish it off when you drop to the floor. The next door is not locked.

The room it leads to is not inhabited. Instead of monsters, puzzles, or chests, you're greeted by a peaceful scene. An endless expanse of calm, shallow water expanded on all sides. The only disruptions are the door you came from, the door leading forward, and a small sand mound with a leafless tree sitting between them. You take a step forward and find that the water reflects your face perfectly. You feel oddly safe to take another step despite no visual of solid ground. Your feet sink slightly, but nothing more. You walk, then pause when you notice the door ahead has bars on it. The room is empty, isn't it? You turn around in a panic, trying to spot anywhere a monster could hide. In the water maybe? You take a second look at the surface, only to see a lack of your reflection. The pit of your stomach sinks. This room, and whatever is going on, is fueled by magic. This thing didn't need to hide from you, it could hide itself.

"You're not the hero," a voice sneers, sounding as though the room itself is speaking. That tone, that slight rasp anyone else would miss, it sounds just like-

A hand suddenly covers your mouth, your body being pulled backwards against another. Your instincts call on your weapons, but your assailant grips your wrist with superior strength. A sob begins building in your throat. This is a foe, one who is clearly prepared for Link and not some Hylian girl. You're dead. You'll never get to run around the village again. You'll never get to train with a sword again. You'll never get to tell Link-

"That's right, you'll never get to tell Mr. Hero-boy that you loOove him~" the voice purrs against your ear, his its tone cruel and mocking in a level whisper. Your lungs freeze when you process the words' true meaning. this thing knows your deepest secret and deepest fear. Worst of all, its voice sounds almost like Link's with the exceptions of a heavier rasp, being slightly deeper, and a permanent sadistic venom lacing every word he it spoke.

"I'm so touched you know who I am," it continues. Your body is jerked in a 180-degree spin and shoved to the ground, leaving you sprawled out and disoriented. You're still reeling from being winded like that when you notice a blade at your throat and freeze. A familiar blade, only darkly colored rather than the hauntingly beautiful silver you're used to. You slowly bring your gaze upwards, eyes meeting Link's face when you fully meet the monster's. It's Link?

"I am not that foolish child of the light," it says with a snort, still sounding calm and deadly whilst amused. "No, I am the stronger and more courageous warrior he could not bring himself to be. That Link, that hero that you love so much, he will never be what you think he is. He will never be what I am. I will pry what is rightfully mine from his sinking corpse." The last sentence is a growl full of venom and jealousy that has you trembling. Something tells you this monster really does stand a chance against the mighty hero of time. You would be mad, you should be mad, but his blade still sat against your neck. You don't dare to move or speak as you try to form a plan.

"Tell you what, here's a plan:" Link's evil copy presses his blade against your throat more, "I kill you, possess your corpse, and force hero boy to choose between letting it kill him or mangling it in order to stop me!" The monster says it like it's trying to suggest a fun new game you haven't heard of before. His eyes are wide with a sadistic kind of glee, one that enjoys seeing you so terrified, meanwhile something in you stirs. At first it's slight, something you bite back, but you can't just let him talk about Link like that.

"Don't even-" Evil Link begins, slashing his blade, but you roll away in time to get slashed on the shoulder instead. It isn't too deep of a wound, but you need to make quick work of this foe or else you'll lose your edge. Springing up, you jump backwards before drawing your sword and shield. The monster charges at you with a cry not unlike your Link's. You try not to think about it as you raise your shield to parry the incoming slash. With the opening it creates you manage a minor slice on his its shoulder. It isn't the monster's sword shoulder, but if it causes any struggle it's worth it.

As you take the second to acknowledge your handiwork, you find your own wrist being slashed at. You get a mild cut, hand starting to shake as you force yourself to support your sword. You back away in even steps, Link's dark version matching your pace. He It suddenly sinks back into the floor below when you're about to reach the other door again. Your reflection not returning keeps you on guard. As you survey the room for the monster, its words pop back into your head. It talked about Link like he's nothing! You internally seethe. Clinking behind you gathers your alert and you turn around just in time to brace your shield against his blade. It bounces backwards harshly enough to dent your shield and send the monster stumbling into the wall behind him. You step forward and slash at him again, inflicting a gash on his arm that's severe but not deadly. He drops his sword and shield, one arm now too hurt and one arm holding the gash. He only grits his teeth at you and glares before disappearing again.

You smile victoriously and saunter back to the door leading forward. I never could've gotten a hit on the real Link, you think as you reach for the bars over the door-

Wait, what? Your heart speeds up immediately as you retreat from the door. That's impo-

You feel warmth travel down your abdomen, a very heavy warmth that makes you instantly sleepy. You yawn and reach down to try to pull it over you like a blanket, hands wrapping around something. Your hazed mind doesn't realize the object is sharp as you weakly tug on it, becoming frustrated when you have no success pulling it up. You tear up, but a soothing feeling settles in your throat when you try to cry rather than choking. Slowly, you find yourself falling asleep as your vision fades out.

You wake up what feels like hours later, to Navi's concerned voice and a fairy missing from your inventory. Exhaustion is still burrowed into your bones and unconsciousness keeps a desperate grip on the corners of your mind.

"Y/n! Y/n! Thank Hylia! What in her name happened here?!" The fairy's voice is fast, full of panic. You open your mouth to speak, but as the memories fade back you can't even begin to process it. Saying it proves impossible when you burst into tears, resisting the urge to scream when your body instinctively tries to choke.

"I- I'll get Link! Stay here!" You reach to try to stop Navi when she flies towards you, but you're too fatigued and a sharp pain in your abdomen stops you. You lose the ability to keep your cries silent. It hurts so badly, you don't even want to breathe because even that causes pain. You swear you can feel it in your organs, even. The little blue-winged fairy carefully, silently, sifts through your belongings and extracts the hookshot before she leaves the room. You curl up in the water, which no longer bears your reflection in the absence of the shadow being, and lift your armor slowly to peek at the wound.

Despite having a fairy's healing applied, the wound is horrendous, and looking at the surrounding skin has you in hysterics. Inflamed, red, with a bubbling rash and several tender bruises already visible. Not to mention the stab wound sitting in the center, looking somewhat scabbed over but still obviously new. You try not to think too hard about it, or about anything except Link, as you slip into the simplicity of the morning's memories for comfort.

"Link! Link!" You call excitedly as you jog towards the Death Mountain gate to greet the currently blue-clad hero. You notice he's brandishing a different sword than the famous Blade of Evil's Bane. "New tunic and a new blade in the same day? Awesome!" You cheer, skipping next to Link, who stays quiet beside you. "Where're you headed now?"

"Water temple," Link grunts. When he notices the spark in your eye, visible concern replaces his typically stoic expression.

"Do you need extra eyes?" You ask eagerly. "An extra blade to back you up?" Link turns to you and grabs your shoulders. You know what he's about to say when he opens his mouth.

"Y/n, it is my job to save Hyrule. Not yours. I'll be back before you know it. You're safest in Kakariko," he says in a firm yet comforting tone. A cheeky grin spreads across your face as you form a plan.

"Let me spar you! How about that? If I can't defend myself against you, I'll stay here!" You announce. Link sighs with a defeated look as you celebrate and prepare your gear.

The door opening and Link's alarmed exclamations bring you back to your unfortunate reality. You open your mouth to try to explain, but break all over again when he gently moves to shush you. You can't help but flinch away from his hand. He looks confused, hurt for a moment, before he notices a fairy missing from your healing items. Potion is immediately poured into your mouth, your eyes tracking the seams on the leather covering his hands. You physically relax as the calm warmth of healing comes over you, a much different and more blissful warmth than the one you remember from earlier. You drift back to sleep, barely registering a pair of arms lifting you as you fade away.

You wake in the middle of Kakariko. It's the middle of the night and it's foggy. Everyone is inside for the night. The village is dead silent. The moon and stars are absent, yet a gentle light is barely visible through the fog. It's beautiful, and red. You think it may be a torch at first, other villagers you can't see, but the light seems to shrink as you approach. Curiosity fills you, urging you forward. More characteristics about the light become distinct the closer you get. The source splits into two separate ones when you're what seems to be a few feet away. Their shape becomes perfectly circular.

Your blood goes cold. You freeze in place when you see Link. The evil one, the one made of darkness. The one who had... encountered you in the temple. A smirk crawls up his face as he yanks you towards him and pivots. You feel the edge of the abandoned well dig into your back. You don't have time to process how his eyes aren't red, how his hair turned white, how his skin turned grey. How he looks more human now. He completely fills your personal space, his body pressed wholly against yours as he tips you backwards over the edge of the well, lips poking your ear.

"Welcome home, y/n~" he whispers before shoving you over the well's rim. A scream rips from your throat as you fall into infinite darkness, Kakariko village, your home, getting smaller and smaller. You flail, you cry, you helplessly try to grab for anything that will get you out of this. The air feels like it's moving too fast for you to breathe.

"Help! Help!" You scream out desperately as your heart twists and your stomach flips inside out. Your hands finally grip something you can't see, and you squeeze as hard as you can, not caring when you feel tingling in your knuckles. You pray to Hylia for safety as you clench your eyes shut.

You wake in Kakariko, in your bed, in Link's arms. You tense, prepared to scramble away from him, and burst into tears when you process that this is your Link. Your hero, your best friend, your crush, not the monster that-

You choke at the thought. Link gently brings you into a full embrace, one you desperately want to find comfort in, but all you can think about is how many times that's happened to him.

"D- Does it a- always hurt?" You choke. Link lets out an audible breath and holds you closer.

When he departs for the temple again, you want to beg him to stay. You want to cry to him and tell him everything eating at your brain. Instead, you insist he at least takes your remaining healing items. Two fairies and five potions. You made him pledge to give the bottles back when they were empty, those things took years to gather. All you can do now is wait and hope he makes it back safe and sound.

Read the next chapter here

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part six

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: ~5k 

A/N: here we go! I’m curious, would y’all prefer short chapters and more frequent updates? or keeping them around the same lengths?

series masterlist 

Three weeks passed since the two of you left for Caraverre for the last time, and today they received the letter telling them you’d arrive a week from now. The month was spent eagerly awaiting your arrival. 

You’d written a post note; 

Ceri found a kitten, and she’s coming with us. I asked if she was certain about keeping her, and was hissed at twice.

“You’ll need to make a new friend,” she told Fleetfoot, currently dozing at her feet. He was about ten years old now, and not quite slowing down, but not as energetic as he was several years ago. Lazily lifting his head, he opened one eye, before laying back down, tucking his head between his paws. He didn’t have the best track record with cats, but hopefully the new kitten would be an exception. Or at least confident enough to stand up for herself. 

“Another friend?” Rowan asked, door closing behind him. She handed him the letter. 

“A cat,” he looked at Fleetfoot, then at her. 

Aelin shrugged, “she’ll keep the mice away.” 

“When she’s here,” he pointed out. 

“Wherever she is.” 

He couldn’t argue with that. Preemptively, they’d looked into a few different places the two of you could live - even if they hated every second of it. If they could at least sniff out the safest areas, they’d feel a bit better. Then, just make some subtle nudges. Would you let them participate in house hunting? 

-

“How long do we have to stay at the castle?” 

“Until we find a home.” 

“When will that be?” 

“After we find one.” 

A groan of frustration, “How long does that take?” 

“It could be days or weeks.” 

She didn’t look pleased with the answer, but that was the truth. As far as homes went, you’d be relatively picky. Maybe a tad more than relatively. There was a running list in your mind. 

High exposure to magic in the past. 

Enough space for Ceri to have her chickens, not enough space for a Wyvern.

Walking distance from the city. 

The criteria was high, but you hoped something would come around quickly. You were eager to create a home base in Orynth, to establish a safe place, a place that belonged to both of you. A castle could be a home, you supposed, but not for you. You’d never feel like you belonged there. 

You meant what you said to Fenrys. You were never born to live in a castle, and as of now, you had no desire to. That’s something you couldn’t picture changing over the years. 

Another thing you didn’t expect was Ceri being this adamant against living in the castle. 

Scanning the cramped interior of the carriage, you saw Ceri still wrapped up in another dragon book - but her eyes were starting to droop. You let a small smile curve on your face, gazing out the frost-covered window. A few more hours, and you’d be passing the gates of Orynth. 

Breathe, you reminded yourself, and watched as your breath condensed in front of you. Gods it was cold, both of you bundled up as much as you could. Still, better than being outside. 

A soft snore, and Ceri was sleeping, body laid out across the bench, mitten covered hands still wrapped around the book, now clutched to her chest. It was a miracle she could read with those on. Quietly standing, you lifted the bench beneath you, dragging out a warm quilt, and tucking it around her shoulders. It’s likely she’d sleep all the way to the gates, if not to the castle door.

Even with the relative safety, you never slept on your trips if you could help it, catching just a few hours as needed. A small shield covered the cabin the entire journey, and after the driver said they were comfortable with the magic, you let it cover them as well. At least it managed to keep out some of the cold. 

Soon enough, you passed through the city gates, then - the Castle loomed ahead of you. The carriage halted in front of the gates, a guard peered in through the window shooting a smile your way and waving you inside without another question. 

You’d met him the last time you were here, and wished you’d at least remembered his name. You made a note to ask later. You were reluctant to wake Ceri, with her looking so peaceful, but you did, gently squeezing her shoulder.

“We’re here.” 

She perked up, throwing the blanket off her, face pressed against the window. One hand swiped away the condensation, wiping again as her breath fogged the window. She wasn’t this excited earlier, pestering you about how long you’d have to be here. It was easy to figure out why, peeking over her to get your own look out the window. Three of her friends were waiting there, a good distance away from Rowan and Aelin, but you could spot them. 

Your heart warmed. 

“Make sure you at least say hello to your father,” you reminded her. She sent you an offended look, and you only raised your brows. 

-

Rowan watched as Ceri jumped out of the carriage, her gaze going to his right. He knew exactly who was waiting for her over there. But, you shot her another look, and instead she sprinted right to you and Aelin, barreling into him. 

He’d gotten used to that, to her throwing her entire body weight into him. The first time it caught him off guard. She was stronger than any ten year old had a right to be. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you used to do that when they met up, flinging yourself into his arms. 

At a slower pace, you followed behind her. 

Ceri hugged Aelin, and bounced on her feet, eyes darting behind them. Where he knew three other children were waiting, a respectful distance away. 

“Go say hello to your friends,” he told her and she shot off without another word. 

Aelin wrapped you into a warm hug, squeezing until you let out an oof, complaining you couldn’t breathe. 

You stiffened as Rowan wrapped his own arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side. Had he never done that? It felt .. natural, he almost released you - momentary panic setting in that he might’ve made you feel uncomfortable, but you wrapped your arm around his waist, giving a quick squeeze back before stepping away. Nothing seemed tense or on edge, in fact you still looked perfectly relaxed. Thank the Gods. 

Aelin linked her arm through yours, talking about the book you’d mentioned in your most recent letter. As soon as you scribbled in a line about it, that Aelin might like it, she set out to find it. Three bookstores in Orynth later, Aelin had located it and devoured it in two days. 

Gods, he’d even found her reading it in the bath. 

“I should send this to Dorian,” she announced. After closing the book, in a daze for ten minutes before she finally spoke. Rowan learned the hard way not to interrupt that phase. 

“A trashy romance novel?” 

“It is not,” Aelin hissed. 

“So I didn’t find you in the bath …” Wind suffocated the fiery dagger thrown his way. 

“Scandalizing the King of Adarlan is always amusing.”

“Does he even read them?” 

Aelin shrugged. 

-

Aelin and Rowan weren’t quite as subtle as they thought they were. They’d obviously done some research and snooping on houses before the two of you arrived, and you found it endearing and helpful. 

“What do you think about this area?” Aelin traced her finger over a spot on the map. 

“I haven’t exactly seen it,” you shot her a smile. “Tell me about it.” 

A moment of shock, but she did tell you everything she knew. Neighbors close enough you could vaguely see them, but not hear them. That’s a plus in your book. Most of the surrounding neighbors already planted a few gardens. A few houses were up for sale, the owners eager to get rid of them. Apparently there’d been a big push to move into the city, into the hustle of people. It’s still close enough to the city, within walking distance of a few schools. 

You noticed that although it’s on the outskirts of Orynth, it’s located closer to the castle. It makes sense, considering Ceri will still be spending plenty of time there. 

“We should go take a look around.” 

Aelin’s eyes lit up. You liked that. 

“Tomorrow?” She offered. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Are we inviting Rowan?” 

That, you didn’t know how to answer. “I’ll leave it up to your discretion.” 

Turquoise eyes fixed on you, and it took everything not to break her stare. “A girls trip sounds nice.” You tried not to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Besides, he’ll likely terrify everyone we come across.” 

You offered a half-smile, your sentiments were the same. That might be pushing a line. Lines you were very careful to balance. Gods, you’d practically made neutrality an art form over the years. 

-

You bundled up, pushing a pair of mittens into a protesting Ceri’s hands. 

“Do you want frostbite?” You kept the exasperation out of your voice. She snatched them from you, shoving them onto her hands, as you wound a scarf around her neck. It wasn’t actively snowing, but Terrasen winters were brutal. A grinning Aelin waited for you just past the castle doors. The two of you each linked one of Ceri’s arms. A good strategy to keep her from sprinting off. 

She led you through the city, you’d hit the sweet spot in the morning - less people on the streets, less to gawk and stare, and she knew every back road and alley. It might take you a while to get used to the city, considering none of the roads made any sense. Scratch that, it would. They all lead in nonsensical directions, sometimes looping back on each other. 

“I’ll need a map for a few weeks,” you commented. 

“I’ll get one for you.” Aelin grinned, leading you through the city gate, and to the right, tracing back along the wall. You figured it had been a twenty minute walk so far, and sure enough five minutes later the small houses began to grow, and Ceri began bouncing. 

A few for sale signs, and you opened your senses - looking for spots of residual magic. Where some magic wielders might have lived for a while. The area was brimming. Beautiful and ancient. 

This was as good of a time as any for a lesson. 

“Ceri,” you caught her attention. The two of you had let her go, making her promise to stay within ten paces. She stopped and turned, bright green eyes staring at you, before bounding back towards you. “See what you can feel.” 

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Eyes open.” 

She scowled, but listened. It was a crutch, and although you let it help at first, you knew she didn’t need it anymore. Her eyes scanned the perimeter, fingers wiggling beneath the mittens. 

“A lot of magic. Old.” 

“What else?” A long pause, but you waited. Aelin was silent beside you, watching curiously. You kept your focus on Ceri. 

“It’s mostly from humans.” She was looking back at the various fields, now overgrown with grasses. Farmers used to live here, in masses. 

“Good,” you grinned at her. She looked nearly identical to Rowan, but that was your mother’s grin on her face. Ceri led the way this time, spotting the houses with “for sale” signs. 

You could tell Aelin was brimming with questions, so you started. “It’s the first thing I learned as well.” 

“Sensing magic?” 

You hummed. 

“Is there a big difference between Human and Fae magic?”  

“It’s subtle,” you admitted. “But it’s a good thing to know.” To know who you’re facing. 

“How does your magic work?” She probed. 

“I have the basic shielding, myself and others,” that was the easy part to explain. “I use magic to put … intention into different materials,” you huffed a laugh. It always sounds ridiculous when you put it like that. In reality, it’s a bit more complex than that, but that’s the easiest way to describe it. 

“It lets you sense other magic.” 

“Most of us can,” you countered. 

“But more than others.” 

“I haven’t had a chance to compare,” it’s true, plus you had no desire to. Few knew the extent of your magic, and most of them were dead. You preferred it that way. 

“Intention,” she murmured - thinking aloud. “Like that dagger?” 

“I didn’t create it,” you said, slipping into neutrality, hand slowly drifting over your cheek. You avoided looking at her. 

“Is there something else different about it?” 

Yes, but nothing that has to be said. Still, this was an opportunity for you to show you trust her. Trust, of course, has to be earned, but giving a small show of it - even just providing a bit of extra information like this, could make a difference in the future. A small thread tugged at you, encouraging you to share. The Goddess who’d always guided you. Listening was the only option. 

“That particular one was created by an ancestor of mine. I don’t know who. Those daggers are more common than you’d think, most don’t know what they are. Usually intended for … ritual magic, tattooing, scarring,” you still couldn’t meet her gaze. “They used to be common practice. I don’t know how that male got that specific one, and it had worried you more than you cared to admit. But he was dead, they were destroyed. “It’s an object a collector probably would’ve loved.” 

“Are there a lot of those in circulation?” 

“Two less now,” you said without thinking, wincing before clearing your throat. “Made by my family? Very few.” Five were made actually, and you knew where one was, but the other two were still lost. The next part you hesitated, but one extra tidbit couldn’t hurt. “It’s not exactly illegal to create them on the Southern Continent, but highly frowned upon.” 

“Is that why you destroyed them?” 

“No,” you couldn’t lie to her. Silence radiated between the two of you, her surprise palpable. Aelin was waiting, waiting to see if you’d keep speaking. That wall started to surge, to form itself around your mind, to block, block, block, but this time you pushed back against it, a firm hand lowering it. Not to the ground, but so you could see past it. Finally, you looked at her. No judgment, just curiosity. 

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” 

Did you want to? Not particularly, but that stupid little thread tugged again. Mentally, you muttered a sorry at calling it stupid. 

“That one was special. It scars as intended, yes, but any blood it encounters … if the victim has magic, some of it will transfer inside of the blade. Just a trace, nothing someone would miss, but enough to have other uses.” 

You’d had too much time to think about it, to think on what it could mean. If someone had a dagger with your magic, even a hint of it … a weapon with the ability to throw magic into other objects? It doesn’t limit itself either, it would’ve kept on building the more victims it crossed. If the wielder knew how to use it correctly, they could potentially use it to throw someone elses magic into another person. One of your family’s daggers, objects missing for too long, thrown into circulation just as a large upheaval occurred. Just as everything changed again. It’s not something that could be completely ignored, even from Terrasen. But, some things were your burden to carry. Consequences passed through time and generations. 

“Good you destroyed them,” Aelin said quietly. A glance at her, and you knew her mind went the same way yours did. 

“They were originally used for healing,” you felt the need to defend your family’s legacy. You didn’t want to give the impression that they’d created an object with the intention for harm. 

“Sounds like it could’ve been a great tool.” 

“It was, for some time.” 

Gods, you were sharing too much now. Ceri saved the day, bounding back towards you and pointing to the house. 

“It’s perfect.” 

Not huge, but not small. From the outside, everything looked fine. Glancing at the price, you knew there had to be a catch. A bit of fixing up, you could handle. But if the roof was about to fall down? That would be a no. 

You looked underneath the price, squinting your eyes. To a good home.

An older male ambled out, spying the three of you eyeing it. 

As he led you through the house, you got the sense you were being interviewed, and answered all of his questions honestly, explaining what you were looking for in a home. 

“What do you want it to become?” 

Aelin looked at you from the corner of her eyes, but the male’s keen gaze, piercing brown eyes, were fixed on you. 

“A home for my daughter and I,” Ceri clutched your hand tighter, glancing between you and the other male. “Somewhere her friends can visit,” you squeezed her hands, “and relax.” 

“Have a lot of friends, do you?” 

Ceri nodded, and started rambling about the things they’d done yesterday. He listened patiently, commenting in all of the right places, and you could tell Ceri was taken with him. He did have a grandfatherly aspect to him. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “There’s some mice sometimes, you’ll need a cat.” 

“We have one,” Ceri piped. 

“That’s perfect then,” he patted her shoulder. “It’s yours if you want it,” he looked up to you. Now, three pairs of eyes were on you. 

“We’d be honored.” 

The words felt … right. You’d learned the home had been in his family for generations, but he was the last of them. He didn’t need to tell you what happened to his family, but he said he’d been the last occupant of the home, and would be moving into the city with a friend. 

“Are they a special friend?” 

“Ceri,” you hissed. 

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, looking at you with a hint of amusement. You replied with an apologetic grimace. “All friends are special.” 

You squeezed your daughter's hand, telling her now is not the time. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut. She’s at the age where a filter is a foreign concept to her, and any question seems appropriate. 

Turn around would take about ten days. He’d left you all of the furniture, all of the kitchen ware, nearly everything, even a collection of what looked to be ancient books. It almost seemed too good to be true … but, this time, an instinct told you to accept something good happened. That it happened without a greater cost. That you were worthy of good things. 

-

Aelin’s mind had wandered during the rest of your ‘girls trip.’ She half paid attention to the tour and conversations, enough so she knew what was going on if asked a question. But, her mind drifted to what you told her. She’d watched as you froze up, as you hesitated, but then told her anyway. As you showed trust in her. Trust with things you probably hadn’t told another person. There was still more to the story, but when she saw how uncomfortable you grew, common sense told her pushing wasn’t worth any potential knowledge she might acquire. 

She was correct that someone from your bloodline created it. First the admission of the type of dagger, then how the ones your family created were different. Something a collector would’ve loved. 

They were used for healing at some point, then stolen. At least that was what she picked up on. Her mind trailed to why you would’ve destroyed them, destroyed a family heirloom. Blood. Magic. Your magic - imbuing. 

Victim’s magic store itself. Enough to have other uses.

Very few. Two less. There’s still more. And you don’t know where they are, or she has a feeling you would’ve tracked them down by now. Aelin had a decent read on you at this point, and she’s well aware you wouldn’t let something like that exist in the world. 

Could those daggers have a history? Could she find mentions of them somewhere? You didn’t say relative, you said ancestor. 

She needed to talk to Rowan.

-

Rowan could tell Aelin was nearly bursting at the seams with something. She waited until it was the two of them, you and Ceri already off to bed, before sharing. 

He sat on the new wealth of information Aelin had learned. Moreover, he was shocked you’d shared all of that. It was more than you would’ve told him … would’ve told him in the past. There’s other reasons why you wouldn’t have shared that with him before. Still, if he’d asked the question would you have answered? A useless question, considering he wouldn’t ask you. He recognized you wouldn’t have told Aelin this if you didn’t expect he’d hear of it as well. 

It wasn’t meant to be hidden from him, just to be heard second hand. It felt like a consolation prize. 

“Is she worried about it?” He finally said, his pause giving the impression he was thinking the information over.

“Not excessively,” she shifted, stretching her legs out over his lap. Absentmindedly, thumb ran circles into her calf, loosening the tense muscles. A small purr left her chest. She was silent, contemplative, for a few moments. “There’s more to it. I know there is.” 

“Aelin,” he paused his movements, catching her eyes, hoping to tell her not to dig into it. Based on the look in her eyes, that wouldn’t be a deterrent. “At least don’t push her. Let her come to you. It’s sensitive family history you’re digging into.” 

At least that’s the impression he got. Aelin described how you seemed reluctant, emphasizing how she didn’t pry much. Speaking about your family had always been difficult for you, one of the topics you were most evasive about, and he doubted that changed too much over the years. 

“I know.” 

-

For the first few days, you struggled to figure out how to fill your time.

 Last time you’d been here, everyone was snowed in for the majority of the time, but now there weren’t any restrictions or requirements to stay in the castle. Last time, your stay in Orynth felt temporary, even with the knowledge you’d be returning. It was also the first storm of the year, and an early one. Now you’d just hit december. Meaning Yulemas was quickly approaching. Peak season for you, to sell any kind of little crafts, but you didn’t have a space to work yet and working out of the castle didn’t feel right to you.

In the mornings and early afternoons, Ceri had lessons with the rest of her friends and a few teachers from the castle, so you took it on yourself to walk through the city, trying to memorize each street and back alley. That was a new kind of torture for you. Going alone made your explorations much longer, but it was important you learned how to find your way through without help, to not rely on anyone - besides the little map now becoming worn down and creased with how frequent you referenced it.  

Making your way back to the main square, the jingling of bells and a few festive tunes reached you first. 

A market. 

Evergreen wreaths lined the streets, accented by bows, pinecones, and all sorts of little decorations. Stalls and stalls of vendors selling their wares, all of them braving the cold. A few had flasks on their hips, ones they took a few sips from time to time. You smiled to yourself, that’s certainly a way to help keep the chill out. 

As it happens, you came across a woman selling little carvings, a list of different types propped up on her table. ‘Enchanted,’ had a line crossed through it. She wasn’t particularly busy, so you decided to be nosy. 

“Enchanted ones already sold?” 

She smiled ruefully, “aye, the normal provider’s temporarily out of business, don’t know when they’ll be back.” You realized she might be referencing you. “A female from Antica, now based in Terrasen, not sure where.”

“Are there others?” 

Her mouth pressed into a tight line. “Not particularly good ones.” 

“Out of those too?” Gods, you really were being nosy, but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“If they don’t feel right or genuine, I try not to sell them. I like the ones that already have a bit of magic in ‘em.” She narrowed her eyes at another stall across the way. You nodded, and she seemed in the mood to share today. “The seller’s out of Antica, don’t know how she got here, but it’s lowered the price.” She was speaking of you. 

“The price?” 

“I used to import.” 

“Oh.” 

Maybe you should’ve kept track of where some of your work ended up. 

“I try to keep the prices fair,” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, balancing it on two legs. “For the ones who look like they need it.” That, you could appreciate. “Makes me sell out quicker.” 

You hummed, maybe you could make a few before the seasons up. “I heard a rumor,” you started hesitantly, and her head tilted, eyes curious. “That she’ll be back in business, have something ready about a week before Yulemas.” 

Oh, you had her attention now. “Do you know her?” 

A small nod. “You don’t?” 

A shake of her head, but you’d caught her attention. “Always dealt with someone in the middle. A bit annoying,” you tried not to wince, “but safer for her that way, I can understand.” 

“I can put you in touch.” It can’t be that hard to pretend you’re actually the one in the middle. 

“Really?” She looked skeptical, and for good reason. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small trinket. A small amulet, one of the last things made before you left Caraverre, and a design you hadn’t used before, but if she’s sold some of your things, she should recognize it as genuine. Carefully, you handed it to her, watching as she examined, eyes squinting to look at the tiny carvings. 

“She won’t have much stock, and not til week or so before the holiday, but I can put you in touch and see what she has.”

“Even a few would make a difference,” she reached out and handed it back to you, gingerly. Almost like she was holding a treasure. 

“Keep that one for yourself. I’ll come back and let you know.” 

“That would be much appreciated.” 

Based on your smile, and the way she undid the clasp, tucking the small necklace inside her coat, you knew she would. Keep it and not sell it. You’d need to wait a few more days before returning, maybe even up to a week. Just to give the impression you actually were someone in the middle. 

Feeling in high spirits, a good deed done for the day, you headed back to the castle, hoping there would only be a few wrong turns this time. 

-

Aelin reached an arm around pulling you into her side, a hug of sorts, but her arm lingered. Naturally, your head dropping to her shoulder. She squeezed further, and didn’t move. Aelin tugged you closer. Rowan didn’t look uncomfortable when you stole a look at him. In fact something like a smile ghosted across his face. You realized how much you’d missed touch and affection. Platonic touch and affection, just among friends. Reya had always been a big hugger, the two of you cuddling up next to each other on the couch. 

Something you’d never even thought might be necessary. But now that it was here … you found yourself clinging to it like a lifeline. Touch starved enough that even the smallest affection feels like a blessing, like a gift from the gods. 

Aelin sighed, and you relaxed your body further, letting the wine send you loosen you, giving yourself permission to feel this. To bask in this momentary peace. 

“You’re much better at this than Rowan.” An indignant huff from the offended male. “Take notes,” Aelin teased him, drawing a laugh from you and a half-hearted glare from the other male. 

“And you’ve had a lot of wine,” you countered Aelin, but didn’t move. She’d initiated it … and if she felt uncomfortable, you’d let her move away. Maybe you should, maybe this is crossing some invisible line the wine haze is keeping you from recognizing, but it felt so right. 

“Am I a better cuddler than Fenrys?” 

This time, you did laugh. Aelin is definitely competitive. “I wouldn’t know.” 

She seemed pleased, and matter of fact, so did Rowan. You’re imagining it, for certain. In the morning you’d swear he never looked like that. Swear it was a figment of your imagination. 

As much as Fenrys made jokes about it, this hadn’t happened with him. Right now, you didn’t want it to, maybe you wanted to claim her as your official cuddle-friend. It’s the wine. Aelin wasn’t yours to claim, not in any way. Besides, you don’t believe in belonging to others. You belong to yourself, and that’s it. That’s the way it’s always been, and how it will always be. 

A part of you still lingered, still wondered what it would be like to have a mate. To forge a bond so deep, such a permanent and everlasting connection, one that could cross worlds and eternity, to love and be loved so deeply that separation was unbearable - that separation would tear your soul into tiny bits. 

Not the love of a mother and daughter, the love of two people meant to bind their souls together. Meant to claim each other equally. 

Could a bond like that be forged, or was it some kind of gift? Given just to those deemed worthy of it? 

It’s the wine. 

The odds are you’ll never know, and there’s no use in wasting time imagining it. 

taglist: @holb32 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee @reidishh @fussel9913 @abbyrose13 @brandywineeeee @acourtofbatboydreams (sorry it didn't let me tag everyone! you can comment on this or any others if you want to be added!

[marveloustimestwo]

Can you do platonic yandere silco and platonic yandere vander fighting over reader?

Thanks for the request!

Warnings: Yandere themes, talk of fighting and implied kidnapping.

The way their hatred for each other would increase ten times more is insane.

I could definitely see you having grown up with the two of them and being like a little sibling to them. Of course, because of this, they both would be incredibly protective of you in their own ways.

It would especially be like a repeat of what could happen with Vi and Powder, had they also grown up with a little sibling.

Even though we have yet to see exactly why Vander and Silco had such a terrible falling out, one of the biggest factors could easily be how differently they deal with their views.

As a larger example, while both of them want the safety and unity of Zaun, they have different ways of getting it in the end. Vander chose to stop fighting after seeing all the death it caused, and instead separated Zaun from Piltover completely. Silco, however, took to more terrible things to get to his goal.

And this would end up translating into how they take care of you.

I briefly talked about Vander and his tendencies a while ago, and I still truly think he's one of the better ones to have. Really, he'll only try to control your life in a small way to make sure you don't get hurt.

Such as making sure you don't go out late at night. People are always more bold in the shadows. Some areas of Zuan would be off limits, especially places where Vander knows people hate him.

Yet he would still never resort to forcing you into anything you don't want. He'd just gently guide you in the right direction, and follow and protect you should you go down the wrong path.

However, one of the few things that would drastically increase how protective he is would be someone like Silco also having an obsession with you.

When it comes to his platonic obsession, I don't think Silco would ever intentionally harm his darling. He'd be a more severe form of protective, as well as paranoid.

So when things go sour between these two, it will worsen the already toxic versions of themselves when it comes to you.

Their initial fight would now not only be about their differing views about Zaun but also their differing views on how to take care of you.

It makes them all the more vicious. Both will fight until their very end to get you on their side.

I still think Vander would win that fight and spend the next few years devolving into being just as paranoid as Silco had become.

Those few years of being afraid of the next time Silco might try to get you, and Silco growing stronger without you would only make the both of them worse.

And when the next fight inevitably comes around, the process will repeat itself in a new generation.

Vi and Powder grew up seeing you as their perfect aunt/uncle. Someone who comforted them at their worst, who gave them a place to vent and protected them.

But when cracks start to appear and Silco comes to finally take you back, the aftermath is bloody.

No one goes down easily, not where you're on the line.

When the rubble settles, Powder finds herself feeling that all she has now is you, and seeing your form held by Silco, it is only reasonable that she follows.

And just like that, the coin was flipped. Now, it is Vi and a shimmer-infused Vander's turn to go after you and restart the fight.

[tytarax]

Okay! Feel free to answer this request when you feel comfortable! No pressure :3

Platonic yan Goomasu who has deluded himself into thinking reader is his baby sibling :) and is trying to hunt them down after killing off the remaining survivors in the area and is shouting out for them to come out of hiding while reader attempts to escape the ruined city in the hopes of hiding away somewhere else, but then Zamasu catches them anyways and drags them back to his cabin :333

The once-thriving city lay in ruins, its streets littered with debris and the remnants of what once was. Amidst the destruction, a single figure moved stealthily, trying to remain hidden. Y/N was desperately trying to escape the wrath of the weird dude who had decimated the remaining survivors. Zamasu, a twisted fusion of Goku Black and Zamasu (:P), had convinced himself that you were his lost younger sibling and was determined to find and protect you, no matter the cost.

"Come out, little one!" Zamasu's voice echoed through the shattered buildings. "It's not safe out here. Big brother is here to take care of you!"

You held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as you crouched behind a collapsed wall. The irrational fear of being found battled with the hope of finding a way to escape the city and hide somewhere safe. Every step you took had to be calculated, every noise avoided, as you tried to stay one step ahead of the deranged deity.

"Don't be scared," he continued, his voice carrying a disturbing blend of gentleness and authority. "I won't let anything happen to you. Those mortals were a threat, but I've taken care of them. You're safe with me."

You knew better. Safety was a distant memory, replaced by the constant terror of being caught by the god who saw you not as a person but as a possession. His delusions had grown stronger with every passing day, his obsession with you deepening as he eliminated anyone he deemed a threat to his "sibling."

As you carefully navigated through the rubble, your mind raced with possible escape routes. Maybe if you could reach the outskirts of the city, you could find shelter, somewhere Zamasu wouldn't think to look. But the sound of footsteps drew closer, each step a reminder of the relentless pursuit.

"There you are!" Zamasu's voice rang out, filled with twisted joy. He had spotted you. Panic surged through your veins as you bolted, running as fast as your legs could carry you. The uneven terrain made it difficult, but adrenaline pushed you forward.

"Don't run from me!" Zamasu's voice was laced with a mix of anger and desperation. "It's dangerous out here! You need me!"

Despite your efforts, his divine speed quickly closed the gap between you. Before you could react, his hand grasped your arm in a vice-like grip, yanking you back with a force that sent you stumbling to the ground.

"No!" you cried, struggling against his hold. "Let me go!"

"Shh, shh," Zamasu cooed, his eyes wide with a mix of frustration and twisted affection. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. You just need to understand that I'm doing this for your own good."

Tears welled in your eyes as you fought against him, but his strength was overwhelming. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as if you were a fragile child. The contrast between his gentle hold and the devastation around you was horrifying.

"Don't worry," Zamasu murmured, his voice soothing in a way that sent chills down your spine. "I have a place for us, away from all this chaos. We'll be together, just like we should be."

As he carried you through the ruins, your mind raced with thoughts of escape, but every movement only seemed to tighten his grip. Eventually, you arrived at a small, secluded cabin, hidden away from the destruction. Zamasu pushed the door open and brought you inside, setting you down gently.

"See? Isn't this nice?" he asked, his smile unnerving. "We'll be safe here, away from all the danger. I'll take care of you, just like a big brother should."

Despair washed over you as you realized the extent of his delusion. To Zamasu, this twisted version of care and protection was genuine, his mind warped by his own godly arrogance and insanity. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that escaping his clutches would be nearly impossible.

For now, you could only bide your time, hoping that some semblance of sanity would return to the god who had lost himself in his delusions. Until then, you were trapped in a nightmare, a prisoner of a divine protector who saw you as his precious, fragile sibling.

Masterpost

DBS Masterlist

[random-vore-blog]

Shelter

" That was not what I expected to see..."

A woman exhaled, wiping the sweat off of her forehead from the close call with an entity she had. Her breathing was jerky, lungs greedily trying to inhale as much oxygen as they could, deep breathes the only thing that was heard in the room.

" What door are we on now?"

A voice asked from behind them, quivering at full of fear. Their companion... The poor soul got tossed in this mess for a mere robbery and murder that she did not commit. They turned their head to look at their companion, even though their hair covered their face. They were still able to look at their companion with a softness and spoke gently, knowing their fears.

" Door 34..."

" What?"

Her question was almost below a whisper, beautiful eyes widened as her lips quivered from the fear that enveloped her body like plague. The poor kid...

" We- we are only at door 34?"

" ..."

" Oh god- we aren't getting out of here alive, are we?"

" No-! I said that we will get out of here alive, and I inted to keep that promise! We are NOT dying here in this hellhole!"

They grabbed the girl and pulled her close for a hug, an embrace she desperately needed after all the horrors that went down. And that was all that had to be done for her to breakbdown, hugging her back as tears started to soak their shirt.

" I won't fail you... I promise that."

" I don't want to die here... I don't want to die here..."

Her words were like knives, stabbing the poor girl with her own words and fears of what was to come. Reality hit her. Hard. It was so cruel, yet, so nice at the same time. A gruesome death that was quick? That- that she feared the most.

" I don't want to be here- I don't want to be here!"

She repeated, trembling. The adrenaline rush increased by twice the amount that was needed in her body to escape. It was not helping her situation at all.

" Please don't let us die here!"

" I won't. I promise. I promise you, Kiara."

They hugged each other, enjoying the warm embrace and comfort it gave off.

-×-

The vent was hot, sweat dripped off of her face, adrenaline rush threatened to stop right there and then. Agent seemed to somehow sense it.

" Hey? You okay?"

" Just- just tired."

" ... We are almost there... I promise-"

A loud thud, the clanking of metal was heard, echoing through the ventilation areas. Agent gasped, looking over their shoulder at the now passed out girl. Panic settled in, the possibilities of a Wall Dweller right behind them was big.

" Kiara?! KIARA!"

They turned around as best as they could in the vent, not because it was small, but because it was difficult because she passed out on their calves.

" KIARA! WAKE UP!"

They frantically shook her to the best of their ablities. They wanted to scream, but heard the sound of scales against the floor. Scales... was- was this another entity? Another experiment? They weren't risking it, staying inside the vent and held Kiara close as much as they coyld with the claustrophobic space.

It went quiet.. too quiet. No scales on floor, no nothing. Just the ambience of the place groaning with pain. The metal didn't help either, allowing the place to echo.

It all happened so fast. The vent opened and something grabbed them by the back of their hoodie, pulled out of the safety of the space and in front of- a fish man? Wait-

" Sebastian?"

" Ah- so you are the one that hid in that little vent? I almost thought for a moment that it was Wall Dweller."

The male spoke, grinning which teeth sharper than a knife. It made the kitchenware look ashamed for being blunt. It was impossibly sharp.

He suddenly tossed them aside, Agent hitting the wall with a loud hiss of pain escaping from between gritted teeth. They glared at him, before their expression softened at the unconscious and injured girl that was cradled in his arms. All three of them.

" Kiara-"

" Major injury on the thigh, minor injuries on the arms... Nothing a little ol' medkit can't handle."

The male interrupted himself by grabbing a medkit off of his tail with his extra arm, managing to bandage her up with ease, using his tail to support her while it left two of his three arms free to wrap her up.

" How did you-"

" No questions, human."

He titled his head to look at them, a small frown on his face, which disappeared within a millisecond. Before they could speak, he looked at Kiara again and opened his mouth, shoving her head inside the sharp teeth-filled space and swallowed.

They froze, but their body reacted quickly. Getting up, they said something, everything was a blur- but they could still feel themselves moving and getting pushed away by something.

---

After getting Kiara down, he looked at the human that struggled against his main arm, deadpanning at their futile attempts while he felt the poor girl slide down his esophagus. He fpund it amusing how they thought he would kill an innocent girl that had been nothing but nice to him, a favourite customer of his he gave small discounts to.

" You are getting irritating."

He said, although he was being sassy again. This was everything but irritating to him. This was amusing and gave him an opportunity to absorb the fear from their face, taking in every little detail that he could see.

He was only sheltering the girl, who now entered his second stomach, from further damage and infections. And possibly get some much needed rest that she had missed previously.

This was gonna be fun.

Agent belongs to @normie-agent. Kiara belongs to me while Sebastian Solace belongs to the Pressure creator(s).

[maesfics]

YOU WON'T LOOSE ME — d.w

pairing ; dina woodward x fem!reader

↬ warnings ; established relationship, angst, visions. lmk if I forgot anything.

↬ ㅤㅤword count ; 1.2k

↬ synopsis ; 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ a nightmare about losing Dina awakens you, leading to a night of comfort and reassurance with Dina and their son, JJ.

↬ requested ; “can I please request for Dina? I thought about reader waking up because of a nightmare and hugging Dina while crying bc she’s afraid of losing her. Hope that makes sense„

a/n ; i hope i didn't go to left with this for you. thank you for requesting nd your support ! <3

if you want to request it's open! | inbox |

Silence envelops the night, deep, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind against the fragile windowpanes of your makeshift home. As shadows dance across the room, cast by the moon's dim light, sleep, which once cradled you gently, now betrays you. A nightmare, vivid and terrifying, seize your mind—a relentless vision of losing Dina, your anchor in this chaotic, infected world.

Heart pounding, you jolt awake, a silent scream caught in your throat as remnants of dread cling stubbornly to your consciousness. Beside you, under the small pool of moonlight filtering through the thin curtains, lies JJ, your son. His tiny chest rises and falls with a rhythmic peace that starkly contrasts the turmoil inside you. For a moment, you watch his serene face, finding a fleeting solace before the urge to confirm Dina's safety overwhelms you.

Assuming JJ is safe and needs to see Dina, you slip quietly from the bed and tread softly across the creaking wooden floor. Each step feels like an eternity as you make your way to the living area, where the echoes of your nightmare linger, a stark reminder of the fragility of this life you've built.

As you enter the living room, the sight that greets you steadies your racing heart. Dina, wrapped in an old quilt, sits in an armchair that's seen better days. The moon casts her in a halo of soft light as she gently rocks back and forth, taking JJ into her arms to nurse him back to sleep after he must have stirred. Her presence, a beacon in the lingering shadows, draws you in.

She looks up, her eyes meeting yours, and in them, you find the warmth and understanding that first drew you to her. Without needing to speak, she extends an arm, inviting you into their small circle of light. You kneel beside her, resting your head against her knee, and as her hand finds your hair, stroking softly, the last vestiges of your nightmare begin to dissipate.

"You okay?" she whispers, her voice a soothing balm.

You nod, not trusting your voice, content to be near her, to see her and JJ together—safe.

Once JJ's eyelids flutter closed, securing him back in dreamland, Dina gently places him in his crib and turns her attention back to you. "Tea?" she offers, and you follow her to the kitchen, grateful for the normalcy of the gesture.

As the kettle whistles softly, you find the courage to voice the fears that your nightmare stoked. "I keep seeing these... these visions of losing you, Dina. Every time I close my eyes, it feels like I might never see you again."

She takes your hands in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "Hey, look at me," she urges gently. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, okay? All of us."

Her words, simple yet profound, ease the tightness in your chest. Inspired by a sudden urge to feel the early morning air, to watch the world awaken, you suggest, "Let's watch the sunrise. It's been a while since we did that."

Bundling JJ up, you step outside together, the pre-dawn chill brisk against your skin. You settle on the old bench by the side of your home, Dina sitting close, JJ nestled between you. The eastern sky slowly shifts its colors from night's deep blue to dawn's soft blush.

Here, with the day breaking before you, you talk about everything and nothing—whispered dreams for the future, the simple joys of the day-to-day. Each word weaves a more substantial thread in the fabric of your family.

As the sun ascends, casting its first golden rays through the trees, you feel a warmth that isn't just from the sunlight but from the love and certainty that you, Dina, and JJ share. This moment, this morning renews your hope and determination.

You head back inside, the light of the new day filling your home, casting long shadows across the floor that dance with the gentle rhythm of your movements. Watching Dina play with JJ, his laughter and music fill the room, and you feel a profound sense of peace.

Each day is a gift, a new beginning, a promise made under the whisper of the dawn sky—that no matter what, you will face it together.

As you sit together, sipping the warm tea that Dina has prepared, the silence between you stretches, comfortable yet filled with the weight of unspoken worries.

 Dina's gaze is thoughtful and reflective as she watches the steam curl from her cup. "Do you remember the day we found this place?" she asks, breaking the silence. Her question pulls you back to a timeless burdened by the immediacy of survival, a day filled with rare hope.

You nod, the memory surfacing amidst the fog of your anxieties. "I remember. You said it was perfect because the sunlight hit the porch just right." The recollection brings a faint smile to your face, one that Dina mirrors as she reaches across the table to squeeze your hand.

"Exactly. And because it felt like a place where we could make a real home," she adds, her voice dropping to a whisper. "A place for JJ to grow up, where we could be a family. I meant it then, and I still do. No nightmare, no fear will take that away from us."

Her words, filled with determination and love, help lift the heaviness from your heart. The two of you talk through the night, revisiting memories of how you've built your life together, the challenges you've overcome, and the dreams you still nurture. 

It's a reminder of the strength you draw from each other, fueling your resolve to face whatever comes.

As the first light of dawn begins to seep through the windows, painting the world in hues of gold and amber, you wrap a blanket around your shoulders and step outside. The air is fresh, the promise of a new day palpable. Dina joins you. 

JJ is now awake and curious in her arms. Together, you walk to the edge of the property, where the open sky stretches wide and unobstructed.

The sunrise is breathtaking, a spectacle of colors that bleed across the horizon, blending into one another. You watch, mesmerized, as the world awakens. 

Birds chirp in the distance, their songs a soundtrack to the sun's ascent. JJ babbles happily in Dina's arms, pointing at the sky with chubby fingers.

"This—this right here—is why we keep fighting, right?" Dina says, her voice was soft and emotional. "For moments like this, for him."

You nod, your heart swelling with love and renewed purpose. "For all of us," you affirm, feeling the weight of your nightmares lessen in the rising sun's light. "We have so much to live for and protect."

You spend the morning outside, embracing the day together as a family. Dina teaches JJ how to say "sun" and "sky," her laughter mingling with his excited squeals. You capture these moments in your mind, a mental album of all the reasons why you fight and why you survive.

As the day emerges, you return inside, energized by the morning's beauty and clarity.  Once a mere shelter, the house feels more like a home with each passing day, filled with the sounds and sights of your small family thriving against the odds.

In these moments, the nightmares that haunt your sleep seem distant, their hold on you weakened by the love and life that fill your days. You know they may return, as they often do in this harsh world, but you also know you have everything you need to face them—as long as you have Dina and JJ by your side.

[imtrashraccoon]

Ooh could you perhaps write something for cross? Like an X reader? I haven't seen many of those- like- at all, and it's incredibly sad because the boy deserves love :c

Feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna do it <3

I'm so sorry for the wait, Anon! I didn't realize it had been almost a month since I received this! In my defense it took me like two weeks to figure out what I wanted to write in the first place. I hope this doesn't disappoint because it's way longer than I intended it to be...

A Gentle Soldier

Cross!Sans x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,875

You were simple person, just doing what you could to get by in the world. It wasn't an easy or comfortable life but you made the best of it.

After your father passed away, you were left with the cabin he'd built that had been your childhood home. It was a small one room building with a loft for sleeping and a fireplace set into one wall, which was especially nice in the Winter when the stone bricks it was built from radiated the heat throughout the entire cabin.

You kept a small vegetable and herb garden out back and regularly hunted or trapped animals for meat year round. You also preserved anything extra for the cold months when you might not be able to leave the cabin during bad storms for several days. Other than the occasional trip into the nearby village for rifle ammo and a few other things that you couldn't make yourself, you were self sufficient and almost never interacted with anyone.

Maybe one day you'd meet someone and start a family, but they'd have to be adaptable because you weren't about to just abandon the life you'd worked so hard to build for yourself. You liked to think that you were a reasonable sort but there were some things that you wouldn't compromise on. Moving back into the village was one of them, so unless you had no other options, you were going to hang on dearly to your little piece of paradise.

Today was a bit of a gloomy one, but despite the heavy rainfall the previous night, many dark clouds still remained overhead. There was a cool breeze as well, but you figured the inclement weather would hold off for a few hours at least, which was enough time to check your traps.

After putting on a thick coat for warmth and in case you were wrong about the rain, you shouldered a rucksack which held extra traps and some small tools. You also slung your father's hunting rifle over your shoulder, which while you didn't think you'd need it, there was always the possibility of running into a hungry bear or wolf this time of year. You were a decent shot, but hopefully if you did end up missing, the loud noise would be enough to scare them away.

While checking each of your traps, you thought it was strange how quiet the forest seemed today. Not even the occasional birdsong interrupted the silence and none of the traps had even been touched. That was disappointing, but you still had some meat you'd smoked previously and you had enough flour to make some bread so you wouldn't go hungry tonight at least.

You were on your way home again when you heard a loud noise.

It was like several trees had been knocked over or like a landslide had been triggered.

That wasn't something an animal could do.

You checked that your rifle was loaded but kept the safety on for now as you carefully made your way towards the strange noise. You only wanted to take a peek, just in case someone had gotten hurt. Although, it soon became apparent that whatever or whomever had caused the disturbance was still in the area and, as you drew closer, you began to hear people shouting as if they were in the middle of a fight.

You stopped at the crest of a hill and peered down into the little valley below.

There were at least four monsters below you, three of which were seemingly working together to attack the fourth. They all looked like skeleton monsters, however there were some anatomical differences between them and human skeletons. They were dressed completely different from both each other and from any monsters you'd ever seen before too.

The first was a skeleton whose outfit was rather intricate but it was also completely black and white. It was hard to describe with all the layers of clothing, but the basics of his outfit seemed to be a white parka with a fluffy hood, a narrow white cape with black edges, and a pair of black shorts with white stripes that were shaped like an X. He had twin bone daggers with hollow blades and even from here you could tell that he was quite experienced with them.

The second skeleton was wearing a metal chestplate, a light blue bandana tied around his neck with matching gloves and boots, and sturdy looking jeans. He kind of looked like a warrior from an RPG to you and the large maul he was wielding only solidified that thought in your mind.

The third skeleton was a bit shorter than the others and he seemingly flitted about like a leprechaun with what looked like a giant paintbrush. His outfit was mostly brown but some of the straps holding it together were bright yellow and green. He also had on a pair of fingerless gloves and sported a very long brown scarf that somehow didn't impede his movements at all.

Their outfit choices seemed to be representative of their personalities since you couldn't think of any other reason for the variety on display. The first struck you as the strong and silent type, with the second seeming like he was dependable, and the third looked almost carefree and yet also rather bubbly at the same time.

Their opponent though, just looking at him seemed to fill you with dread, and while you had limited experience with people, even you knew he was bad news.

He was several inches taller than the three, not counting the numerous black tentacles protruding from his back. His bones and clothing also seemed to be completely black, in such a way that gave him the appearance of having been dipped in ink, except it didn't seem to leave a mess everywhere. Speaking of clothing, while it was hard to differentiate where his bones ended and clothes began, his outfit looked like it consisted of a fancy overcoat and you could see that he was wearing a gold circlet and several rings on his phalanges. He seemed to only have one working eye socket, which had a piercing cyan eyelight, if the way he kept guarding his right side was any indication, but other than the uncountable number of tentacles, he didn't appear to have any weapons of his own, not that it seemed to be a problem for him.

You knew in your heart that you shouldn't be sticking around and risk being caught in the crossfire, but at the same time, you couldn't help but want to continue watching. It was almost mesmerizing with how fluid their movements were and even though each had their own techniques, they all seemed to work flawlessly together. Their opponent seemed frustrated in comparison and yet he was managing to hold his own against all three at once. You didn't know what the stakes were or how the fight had even started, but you couldn't help but silently cheer for the three skeletons to win.

The monochromatic skeleton was suddenly grabbed by a tendril and sent flying until he collided with a nearby tree. You watched in horror as his body slumped to the ground and when he didn't move for several long seconds, you felt the sickly feeling of dread beginning to pool in your stomach.

The other two skeletons were too busy to check on their compatriot and you could tell the nightmarish looking one would send each of them flying as well if they lost focus for even a second.

You had to see if he was hurt and how badly.

Not caring if you were seen anymore, you scrambled down the steep incline, scattering loose stones and dirt under your boots in a mini landslide as you did so. Somehow you didn't lose your footing but it certainly did slow you down.

Although, before you could reach the fallen skeleton, there was a flash of bright light and another one appeared by his side.

This skeleton was a bit taller than the others, but still shorter than the scary one, and you almost had to squint to even look at him. His presence almost seemed to warm up the immediate area and, rather confusingly, just seeing him made you feel calm and like you should be happy. Considering the situation, it also felt unnerving but you couldn't place exactly why that was.

Somehow, he was dressed even more fanciful than any of the others. Over a form fitting black body suit, he had a loose white outfit that kind of resembled a tunic with bright yellow accents. The best way to describe it was like he'd stepped out of an ancient Egyptian mural, only he was somehow more beautiful.

This new skeleton knelt down by the first and placed his gloved hands on his still crumpled form. A soft yellow glow flickered from between his fingers before the monochromatic skeleton's body jolted awake. The bright one then stood up and said something you didn't quite hear, which the other nodded in response to.

He summoned a gorgeous longbow with a string made of glowing blue energy. Then, he appeared to notch a similarly glowing arrow and turned as if to join the fight, before his gaze locked with your own.

You were completely awestruck and for a moment you found yourself lost in his golden eyelights. You felt like you should be overjoyed that he'd noticed you but the disinterested look on his skull quickly quelled those thoughts. He looked like he was about to say something to you, when a shout from the nightmarish skeleton interrupted him.

"Dream! So you've resorted to collecting pawns now?!" his voice thundered across the little valley.

The bright skeleton, whose name was apparently Dream, let out a tired sigh and turned to face the antagonizing one. "I'm tired of fighting, brother. So I'm here to finish this once and for all," he responded in a tone that, while much calmer, still held a certain level of venom and he'd notably ignored the accusations.

The two brothers practically leaped at each other and their resounding blows echoed throughout the surrounding area. Dream was far more agile than you'd expected and his arrows seemed to burst like a firecracker as they found their mark. His brother seemed to transform into a form that struck so much more fear into you than his first had, so much so that you couldn't bear to watch them any further.

"hey, are you alright?"

You startled and glanced to your left to find the monochromatic skeleton had hauled himself to his feet and apparently had also noticed you.

He looked rather banged up but fortunately didn't seem to have any broken bones or other obvious injuries. Although, there were several tears in his jacket, which you could now see was actually short sleeved and that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath. The ends of his cape were also frayed but you could tell they were already like that before he'd been whipped into a tree.

However, the most striking details about him were his white eyelights, that almost seemed to have a soft purple glow at the center, and an old jagged red scar under his right eye socket. He seemed genuinely concerned about you too, which was a little odd since you were the one who'd originally been concerned about him.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I think..." you managed to respond.

His bonebrows knit together in a way that seemed to suggest that he didn't fully believe you. He didn't choose to press you further though and instead retrieved his daggers from the ground where he'd dropped them earlier.

"okay then, but you should probably try to get as far away from here as you can. as you can see, things get messy fast when these two meet."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

With one last glance to make sure you really were okay, he charged back into the fray again, leaving you to figure out how you were going to get back up the hill. The rain had left the already steep slope much softer than usual and even if you crawled up on your hands and knees, there was no way you'd make it without sliding back down.

Which meant you'd have to find another way.

While you were trying not to focus on the terrifying fight going on, you couldn't ignore it completely. Still, you did your best to make as little noise as possible and hoped that they were all too occupied to notice you.

Just as you'd found a place with decent looking handholds to haul yourself up, you heard someone shout a warning from behind you.

As you turned to see what was going on, your vision was engulfed in a bright blue light.

You heard something impact the rocks behind you.

Then you heard a crumbling sound and felt some small stones hit your head.

[...]

When you came to, you were lying on your back staring up at the grey sky. You could still hear fighting so you must've only been out for a few minutes. You started to sit up but a firm hand on your shoulder kept you from doing so.

"easy there." The monochromatic skeleton was leaning over you now and he still looked rather concerned. His pale eyelights flitted over your face looking for injuries before focusing on a spot just above your right temple.

Your head was throbbing in such a way that you knew you'd get a headache later and when you gingerly ran your fingers over your scalp, you discovered that you were bleeding. Whatever had knocked you out had apparently been sharp enough to give you what seemed to be a nasty cut.

As soon as you'd registered this, the skeleton quickly tore off a section from his cape and wrapped it around your head to serve as a makeshift bandage. He also applied a firm but gentle pressure in an attempt to stem the bleeding. You couldn't help but admire how calm he was as anyone else would probably be a little panicked in this situation. It was almost like he had done this many times before.

"What happened?" you finally asked.

His cool demeanor faltered for a moment to be replaced with a tight frown. "you were spotted by nightmare and he tried to grab you, but dream stopped him..."

You noticed his phalanges twitch as if he wanted to clench his fists before stopping himself and continuing to try to patch you up. Sensing that there was something else that he wasn't saying out loud, you tried to press him further.

"I'm grateful of course, but what's bothering you about it?"

"he was careless and if his aim had been off just a bit more, he could've actually hit you," he grumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes and took a long-suffering breath. When he seemed to have calmed down some, he made eye contact with you again.

"are you alright otherwise? does anything else hurt?" he asked.

You took a second to flex each of your limbs, but other than a few aches that would probably just become bruises, you didn't seem to have any other injuries.

"No, I think I'm fine. A bit shaken up but that's pretty normal in these situations, right?"

He raised a bonebrow and was about to respond when a sound that sounded like a mix between a harsh hiss and a deep growl interrupted him. He whirled in the direction it had come from, simultaneously drawing his daggers that he must've sheathed earlier when he had stopped to help you.

Two shadows wielding battleaxes had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and they started advancing on the two of you. With the black armour they were wearing and the way they easily dwarfed everyone else on the battlefield, you knew these guys were bad news. Other than the glow of their cyan eyelights, they were entirely black and while it was hard to tell, save for their sharp teeth and claws, they also appeared to be skeletons.

Your rescuer didn't hesitate for a second before basically launching himself at them. When they responded to his assault by swinging their heavy weapons, you half expected him to get knocked back, but he ducked under one and sidestepped the other.

He moved so quickly that you could barely keep track of him with your eyes but it seemed that he was using his smaller stature to his advantage. He wasn't wearing heavy armour either which meant he could dodge pretty much every blow with relatively little effort.

In the blink of an eye, he sliced clean through one's torso and simultaneously beheaded the other.

The bodies of the shadowy skeletons seemed to flicker before dissolving into thin air.

He'd won!

"Wow..." you gasped. "I could tell you were good but I didn't know you were that good..."

He nodded and took a cursory glance around the area before letting himself relax again. He was breathing quite heavily after all that, but there was a small glimmer of relief in his pale eyelights when he looked back at you.

"thanks." He seemed to study you for a moment before approaching and holding out his hand. "do you think you can walk?"

"Yeah..." As he helped you to your feet, you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm and you were certain that you were blushing.

What was this day? You'd never seen any skeleton monsters before now and when one of them had showed this much concern for your well-being, you were reduced to nothing but a flustered mess, as if you were a grade schooler with a crush all of the sudden.

He held onto your hand for a few seconds longer than he probably should've but when he realized, he quickly dropped it like he'd been burned. Even though he looked away immediately afterwards, you thought you saw a soft purple glow flicker across his cheekbones.

In that moment, you were struck with the realization that he looked kinda cute. Unfortunately, he seemed a bit unsure of himself all of the sudden, despite how confident he'd been fighting moments prior. It was...rather endearing actually.

"Hey, um, thanks for stopping to help and...for just saving my life too."

He smiled and, while it was a small one, you could almost feel how genuinely glad he was. He let out a soft chuckle and fiddled with the wrapped handle of one of his daggers as that same purple glow coloured his zygomatic arch again.

"yeah...of course. i couldn't just ignore you, especially when you had no part in this," he muttered.

You introduced yourself before asking the one question that had been on your mind from the moment you had first seen him. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer when a bright light from the still ongoing battle grabbed your attention.

While his clothes had been slightly torn and dirtied, Dream stood tall with his bow drawn, ready to fire the notched golden arrow at his brother. He'd only been using blue energy arrows before, but this one seemed much more powerful, if the magic that was pouring from it like a hungry flame was any indication.

In contrast, Nightmare was in a combat ready position with his tentacles poised to strike. His clothing seemed relatively untouched, but the inky substance covering him had either served to protect him or at the very least hide any damage he'd incurred.

While both skeletons were breathing heavily, Nightmare definitely seemed like he was much more worn out than his brother. Which was probably why Dream had brought the others along in the first place now that you thought about it.

Time seemed to stand still as the golden skeleton let the arrow fly.

The world was instantly bathed in an explosion of light.

The nightmarish one let out an anguished scream and clutched his chest as he fell to his knees.

The edges of his form seemed to blur together and for a moment you wondered if he would disappear like the dark skeletons had earlier.

Then the ground suddenly erupted around the golden skeleton.

He was abruptly run through with several black tentacles.

Your hands flew to your mouth in shock as he collapsed as well.

The monochromatic skeleton next to you seemed frozen in shock but in the few seconds that he hesitated, the other two reached Dream first. They seem to briefly examine him before the one in blue gingerly picked up the injured skeleton.

The skeleton in brown swung his large paintbrush which summoned a swirling golden vortex in mid air.

"Cross! We have to go now!" the blue skeleton shouted.

That seemed to spur the skeleton by your side into action and he started to hurry towards them, but stopped himself and glanced back at you. He had a conflicted expression on his skull, as if he knew that he should go with his colleagues but he also looked like he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Cross? Is that your name?" you asked.

He nodded firmly, "yeah..."

"You should probably go with them. I'll be fine, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment longer before his skull took on a determined expression. "stay safe then," he said before sprinting across the valley to the others.

They disappeared into the portal and silence blanketed the forest once more and for the second time today, you shouldered your bag and rifle, neither of which seemed to have been damaged from the debris that had hit you.

Just before you climbed back up the hill, you glanced around the little valley. While a couple of trees had been knocked over, no lasting damage seemed to have been caused by the conflict. There wasn't even any bodies that you'd have to think about burying.

[...]

Time passed as it always did. Summer came and went without anything else out of the ordinary happening and you began preparing for Winter.

You couldn't stop thinking about the kind skeleton that had saved your life. His skills were impressive and you'd never met anyone who actually knew how to fight like he did since it really wasn't necessary nowadays. Oddly enough though, you began to realize that you also found him...handsome.

You'd never heard or met any other skeletons before him and you certainly hadn't since. Maybe they were very rare or maybe there just weren't any living in the area. Either way, it was probably because you'd never found actual skeletons scary. You never would've imagined actually being attracted to one though, monster or not.

You wished you could see him again.

But you didn't know where he was from or really anything else about him besides his name.

So you tried to it put out of your mind and focus on stockpiling food and fuel for Winter.

Today you were chopping up some firewood. You'd been doing a little at a time over the past few weeks so as to not overwork yourself and by now you'd managed to stockpile just about two month's worth. You estimated that you were probably almost halfway done but you wanted to be sure you had enough just in case.

Just as you cleaved yet another log in half, you heard someone approaching from the forest. With your trusty axe still in hand, you turned to see who or what was intruding on your little piece of rustic paradise.

To your shock, Cross was standing only a few paces away from you. He looked much the same as he did before, although his uniform had since been mended.

"uh, hey again," he said in a quiet tone of voice.

For a moment, you were tongue-tied but quickly tried to recover. "H-hey! Um, what...brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

A purple glow flickered across his cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his cerebral vertebrae. "i wanted...to come check on you..." he muttered. "i hope this doesn't sound weird, but i just had to see you again..."

You leaned your axe against the chopping block so as to not risk dropping it on your toes. Running a hand over your face, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"No, it's not weird. I was actually hoping we'd see each other again."

His eye sockets widened in surprise and his pale eyelights quickly scanned your face as if he didn't believe what he'd heard. After a few moments, he grinned, although his cheekbones were still flushed that beautiful purple which you thought was adorable.

"really? you don't mind that i just showed up? i mean, i would've called first but..." He glanced away from you as he trailed off.

"Well, I don't exactly get cell service out here so you couldn't have anyways," you responded with a chuckle.

Cross chuckled as well as he moved closer to you. "on another note, did you need any help here?" he asked as he motioned to the pile of wood.

"I think I'm done for now but if you don't mind, you could help me carry all this back to the cabin," you suggested and began to scoop up an armful.

He nodded and started to pick up what was left of the pile. You walked around to the front door and propped it open to make it easier to bring the firewood inside. By the time you'd unloaded your armful in the large stack you had been steadily building, Cross appeared in the doorway with a much larger armful of wood. He didn't seem to be struggling with the weight but he also didn't have a free hand to unload.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him and wondered how he'd even managed to pick up such a large amount in the first place. Still, you took pity on him and started taking off a couple of the pieces from the top of his armful.

"You didn't just bring all of the firewood in at once, did you?" you teased.

He smirked but shrugged his shoulders as his hands were still occupied. "well, it wouldn't make sense to go back and forth if we didn't have to, right?"

You shook your head and just continued helping him. He was right in a way. If he hadn't offered to help, you would've had to make probably a dozen trips, which would have been pretty tiring.

Your fingers brushed against his hand by accident and you quickly pulled back. Although, Cross didn't seem to notice your embarrassment and he finished stacking the remaining pieces of wood he had been holding.

Clearing your throat, you tried to distract yourself from what had just happened. "So, how are you doing?"

"i'm doing alright, i suppose," he hummed. "what about you? did your injuries heal properly?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I don't even think it left a scar but if it did, my hair covers everything anyways."

His expression turned into one of relief. "that's good, i'm really sorry that i had to leave abruptly like that."

"No, I completely understand!" You hesitated for a second before asking, "Was...Dream okay...?"

His eye sockets narrowed and he seemed to grow more serious for a moment. "yeah, he's fine."

"Oh, that's great to hear."

A bit of an awkward silence settled between both of you. Since he seemed like he wasn't going to expound on what had happened further, you decided to try to lighten the mood and motioned for him to sit down on the couch by the fireplace. He sat down gratefully but his posture seemed a bit stiff.

"Can I tell you something?"

He tilted his skull and gave you a curious look. "what's up?"

Rather than answer immediately, you reached over and placed your hand on his. He briefly glanced down but when he didn't pull away, you took that as a signal that he was okay with the contact for the time being.

"This sounds weird, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head for months."

One of his bonebrows twitched but his expression otherwise remained neutral.

You took a deep breath and continued. "Cross... I really like you."

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled. "well, that does sound weird...but i really like you too." His cheekbones flushed with purple as he spoke but he didn't look away from you this time.

You couldn't help but laugh. This conversation felt like it'd come straight from a fairytale and yet it was real. Your heart swelled with joy and while you were certain your cheeks had turned bright red, you couldn't care less right now.

Cross chuckled softly and, to your surprise, he reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulders. This brought you closer together but not uncomfortably so. Even like this, it seemed he was still being considerate of your feelings.

"does this mean i can come over again to see you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

You nodded vigorously, "For sure!"