#me and my false lashes have made an impact

[moodyvoid]

Things that keep me going:

Every time my nephew sees a cartoon character with long hair and eyelashes he says “Look! That’s you!”

[lazystar]

The Long Way Home

Choi San x Fem!Reader

WC: ~ 6.5K

Warnings/Content Notes: 18+ !!! MDNI!!! SMUT, BDSM Dynamics, Dom!San, Sub!Reader, BFFS -> FWB -> Lovers. ANGST! Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Jungkook at the scene of the crime, Jokes about divorce. Smut warnings after the cut.

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A/N if you enjoy reading this please consider reblogging and leaving a comment ty it genuinely means a lot to me to see y’all’s reactions to my work :)

SMUT Warnings: BDSM Dynamic, Dacryphilia, Impact Play, Bondage, Choking, PIV Sex (no mention of protection remember to wrap it up y’all), Fingering (F Rec), Degradation.

The Long Way Home

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Tequila was the worst invention known to man. Your pounding head and naked body declared this thought as you gazed over to the man in the bed beside you. Some jock you couldn’t even recall the name of. He was some fucking guy, maybe his name was something basic like Matthew? If he asked you his name you would’ve blanked and probably said some random name like John. His snores made your head sting with a headache as you tried to recall how you ended up nude and having to do yet another walk of shame.

The memory hit you as you shrugged on one of your one night stand’s hoodies and your jeans. The walk of shame uniform, some random guy’s clothes paired with your own you sighed to yourself.

The bright lights, booming bass, jungle juice, and losing your best friend in the crowd as you both flirted with the many attractive people at the party. It was just a local affair. Crawling with the washed up twenty somethings that all resided in rather small city you called home. All of them regularly relived the glory days of raucous partying and drinking away the stressors of everyday life, you and your best friend and roommate wee no exception to this.

It was cheaper than a bar and honestly more fun. Mr. Anonymous was one of the hosts and putting on his best Flynn Rider-esque smolder as you batted your false lashes and giggled like a fool. You were about to “oh my god you’re so funny” your way into some good sex. Or so you thought, except you recalled on your walk to your apartment that the guy didn’t even last five minutes and you didn’t even cum. It wasn’t even hook up yelp review worthy.

You barged into you and your best friend San’s shared apartment with a loud huff slamming your keys onto the entryway table. Not even looking up from his phone San let out a laugh, “Who the fuck pissed in your cheerios bun?” Bun had been your long time nickname from San due to your shorter stature and constant habit of twitching your nose when annoyed.

“Well Mr. Mountain Flynn Rider guy didn’t even last ten minutes and I was left disappointed AGAIN!!!” You wailed as you flopped beside him onto your lumpy couch. “Like I get it, I take a while to finish but he couldn’t at least help me?! Where is the fucking decorum in hookups these days.” He lets out a loud laugh at your rant and then suddenly stopped, he looked over at you like he just discovered the secret to time travel. Eyes wide and brows raised, his mouth was agape with a smile.

“I just got the best idea! Why don’t we just start hooking up. We talk enough about our sex lives since we’re so close, we know what the other likes. Why not just fuck?” He says his grin now a smirk, he waggled his brows and nudged you with his elbow.

“Did you smoke something? Are you high? Are you unwell? That’s a fucking terrible idea! Like holy shit that’s an insanely bad idea! One of us could catch feelings, someone could get hurt, it would be a mess. Have you seen any movies where that works out?” You exclaim. Your hands were thrown in the air and you began to consider smacking San upside the head in hopes you could help him create some new braincells for some cognizant thoughts. He just shrugged your way and continued on with his master plan.

“Bun, honey. Think about how much easier and safer it would be. No walks of shame, we’d get tested first obviously, I wouldn’t fuck anyone else so we both stay safe, and come on. I know how you like it.” His voice grew almost husky as he looked deep into your eyes. The change in his energy made you squirm and you couldn’t help but think how hot he looked. You had eyes, you knew your best friend of over ten years was hot with his dark eyes and muscles that practically bulged out of his tight shirts.

“Fuck it. Show me what you got.” And with that his lips crashed onto yours, his hand laced into your hair tugging on the roots just hard enough to make you whine into the kiss.

“Oh Bunny I’m gonna ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try Sannie.” He quickly knocked the smirk off your face with his hand wrapping around your neck, he squeezed a bit and gave you a glare.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Your underwear was soaked as you gazed at him with wide eyes and a moan fell from your lips as he chuckled darkly. He quickly tugged the hoodie off of you and smirked down at you, noticing your lack of a bra. “Fuck your tits are so gorgeous, look at you. You look pathetic all needy for me.”

“ ‘M not pathetic.” You whined. His hand that was around your throat previously gripped your jaw squeezing your cheeks.

“Yes you are, I bet you’re all soaked and your little pussy is begging for me to fuck you. But sweetheart, you didn’t earn it did you? Back talking, sassing me, telling me that fucking me was a horrible idea. Such a dumb little bunny under me. I should just leave you right here all worked up.” You felt out of control as you shook your head no, ten minutes ago you would have never thought of yourself having any sexual relationship with San. But here you were silently pleading for him to fuck you stupid. He watched with glee as your eyes began to water and you began to beg for him to touch you, for him to play with you like a doll. He had you where he wanted you, needy, lust filled, and wanting only him.

“Sannie please! I want you! I need you! I’m gonna fucking lose it if you don’t do something.” Your voice was whiny and you sounded on the verge of tears as your roommate simply smirked at you.

“You have ten seconds to strip and get on my bed, You know how I’ll wanna see you waiting for me.” You bolted, shoving your jeans down and kicking them off, then your panties as you scurried to his room. You practically leapt onto his bed and got right into his favorite position; kneeling on his bed, hands on your knees, head held high, not moving a muscle.

San during your rendezvous rundowns had divulged his preference for BDSM encounters rather than vanilla ones. His stories had you internally squirming when you two discussed your sexual encounters. You hadn’t really had experience with kinky sex like San did. He’d visit BDSM clubs, done his online research, met up with some subs once or twice as he learned more about his dominant side. He told you about how he loved when some of his submissive partners would cry as he would play with them, using impact toys, vibrators, ball gags, collars. He was a rigger, he explained one time, loving using intricate knots and ties with rope to create, as he put it, “the perfect present for myself”. He loved seeing how his other partners would plead to touch him as he fucked them into delirium.

Now here you were, about to get fucked into that same delirious state. San strolled into the room and leaned against the doorway as you kept your pose. He loved seeing you following his unspoken orders. But he knew as a good dominant he had to make sure you were comfortable with him. “Y/N before I do anything I want to know your limits, what are you comfortable with? I know you like choking and hair pulling, some spanking, some spit play. But is there anything you don’t want me to do to you?” You blushed at his consideration, you knew he was going to do this but seeing his concerned eyes and soft smile your way had you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“Ummm, no face slapping, just hands being tied or bound is okay, I wanna be able to see you, and um, just don’t go too crazy. Oh and don’t call me a bitch I’ll kick you.” You nodded, your last sentence elicited a chuckle from San as he shook his head walking over to you.

“So you’re okay if I for example say, hmmmm. Y/N you’re being such a good little whore for me. Getting right how I wanted you and answering my questions like an obedient little slut.” His brow quirked and he tilted his head. He didn’t show it but he was reeling watching the shy flush on your cheeks and how you tried to rub your thighs together to feel some friction.

“Yes Sir, that's okay with me.” You nodded, quietly appraising his reaction to the title. A growl erupted from him as he manhandled you onto your back and spread your legs wide.

“Oh Bunny, Sir’s gonna make you fucking scream.” With that promise he pulled you into a searing kiss as he began to push his fingers inside you and quickly locate the spot that made you cry out in pleasure. He watched as you threw your head back and moaned, his fingers grew faster as you began to squirm. He wasn’t even fingering you for that long, maybe a few minutes but he had you on the brink of your first orgasm. “Aww is Bunny gonna cum already? Uh uh, not yet baby, you gotta beg for it.” You cried out in frustration as he pulled his fingers out and slowly began to circle your sensitive clit.

“Please sir, please let me cum. I fucking need it. I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything. Please let me cum and make a mess for you.” Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged for him to let you cum. You felt like you were going to squirt all over the sheets as he toyed with you. He smirked and roughly shoved two of his fingers back in you and jackhammered them right at your g-spot. The slick sounds of how wet you were along with your moans and panting breaths were all San heard. He bent down and kissed at your neck has he slowed his fingers down for a moment and made a come hither motion with them, the attention on your g-spot had you falling into a state of euphoric delirium, you couldn’t even think a coherent thought as you moaned out his title over and over again.

“Fucking cum for me Bunny. I wanna see what a messy little slut you are for me.” He whispered into your ear, the kiss on your lips that followed sent you over the edge, his fingers quickened as he leaned back up to watch your orgasm splash against his palm and your body thrash about, he watches as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back arched as he continued the onslaught on your overly sensitive pussy. Your cries of relief and his name had him on cloud nine, this is what he had wished for. He had wanted you in his bed more than anything when he would hear your hookup stories. He wanted to make you cum over and over again, to hear you moan his name has he pounded into your wet cunt. Now here you were coming undone all over his sheets and whining as he overstimulated you.

“Sannie I cant take any more too sensitive.” You whined and he stopped immediately. He laid beside you and pulled you into his arms, rubbing yours and whispering praises into your sweat soaked hairline. Your head lulled onto his shoulder and you snuggled into his body heat feeling safe and relaxed as you synced your breathing with his.

“You were so good for me Bunny, you did so good. How do you feel? Do you need me to clean you up and get you some water?” You nodded and he went into the bathroom and grabbed a damp washcloth and gently cleaned up the mess between your legs. After, he grabbed you a glass of water and helped you drink as he kept on praising how well you took your first time with him. “So what do you say? Want to keep doing this?” You nodded aggressively and he let out a light laugh as he kissed your forehead. “Only time we’ll have rules is in the bedroom okay, no need for those dumb ass contracts or whatever shit they do in those girly movies you like. It’s still us being us except I eat you out and boss you around in bed.” You let out your own laugh and statement of agreement. He made it all so casual and comfortable. Any worries you had fell to the wayside as you found yourself under him once again, his hands in your hair and yours cupping his cheeks as giggles made their home in between each kiss.

You fell into an easy routine that was just you two being Mountain and Bun, except now you often are sleeping beside one another sticky from sweat and he’s made you cum several times. It felt right, like you two had been destined for something more than friends.

Soon enough the kisses and physical affection transferred from the walls of your apartment to out in public. Your friends noticed the possessive hand around your waist and glares San would give at any man who would look for a tad too long at you on nights out at the bars and clubs in the city. But when asked if something was going on between you two, San would lead the way with denying anything more than friendship. This lead to a routine of you both denying anything serious was going on, much to everyone’s disbelief as it was clear as day you two were more than friends.

It was an unspoken rule to deny a connection between you two when asked, but a spoken one to only sleep with one another. You two were just friends, friends who kissed, cuddled, and slept together. Friends with benefits, nothing beyond that. Right?

But, something beyond San tying you up and regularly making you cum up to ten times a scene was going on. Stolen kisses, cuddles under the glow of the tv, and nights ending in romantic passionate sex were growing more and more common. Mornings where you would find yourself wrapped around him as he cooked you breakfast, lazy days spent in his favorite hoodies, nights where you laid by his side and played with his fingers as you compared the size of his hands to yours. It was more than just lust.

You knew you were down bad, but you had no one to explain it to. There was no rule against being open about sleeping together but you both seemed to agree silently on keeping it just between you two. The pair of you seemed to just keep it under wraps to avoid your friend’s questions or comments. But avoiding it all was becoming too much, it was driving you insane. It was making you feel used and discarded even if he was treating you so well, you just wanted him to say something so you knew he wasn’t just using you.

Fall came, leaves crashed against the sidewalks and your feelings began to chill like the air outside. It was another night out for you, San, and your seven other friends, this time in a crowded club with booming bass, sultry air, and many other drunk people looking for a good time. You and San were dancing on one another with him subtly peppering kisses on your neck as your hips swayed against his. After a while you pulled away shouting you were grabbing another drink.

At the bar a tall, tattooed man saddled up beside you. His eyes danced along your figure admiring the short dress adorning your frame. His lip rings emphasized his sultry smirk as he offered to buy you a drink. “The name’s Jungkook. I’ll buy you a drink, but in exchange grant me once dance.” You were charmed by his attitude and agreed. Your hands soon found their way around his neck as his grip met your waist. The heavy beat of the R&B of the club and the lust filled air around you two pushed San from your mind as the tall man had stolen your attention.

“Gorgeous I don’t think your boyfriend is too happy you’re dancing on me like this.” The raven haired male said into your ear as you both swayed to the beat. His strong grip on your waist was anchoring you to the moment. The liquor swirled your brain as all of your inhibitions began to throw themselves aside. Your attention was brought back to San, you could feel his angry laser like stare on your back as you danced with Jungkook. Why was he mad? It’s not like he would openly say anything about you being off limits anyways.

“He’s not my boyfriend, just my roommate. We hook up but it’s nothing serious.” You reply back loud enough to be heard over the music.

“So he won’t keep staring at me like he wants to murder me if I kiss you?”

“He can be mad he doesn’t get a say in who I kiss.” You snark back and Jungkook pulls you into a kiss, his hands snaking down to grab your ass over your short skirt and your hands reaching into his flowing locks. Before things could get too heated you felt a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away. “WHAT THE FUCK LET ME GO!” Your disagreement went unanswered as San dragged into a hallway away from prying eyes.

“Y/N what the actual fuck was that? Were you trying to make me jealous?! Well congratulations it fucking worked. You’re mine, nobody else’s. I thought you knew that.” His voice was filled with anger and his tone was almost like a snarl. You shivered and felt the familiar feeling of your head beginning to float at his authoritative behavior.

“Sannie, you never said we were anything more than friends with benefits. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t supposed to kiss other boys, I wouldn’t fuck them but I can’t kiss em?” Your tone was playful but also clearly annoyed at his power play when he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was the guy you lived with and fucked, not the guy telling you he loves you and wants to spend his life with you.

He had no power over you when it came to expanding your horizons while being single.

“No Y/N you’re mine.” San’s glare began to anger you. He can’t say shit like that then not say you two were a couple.

“No San. I’m not fucking yours, matter of fact I’m never going to be ‘yours’. You can have someone else in your bed, sharing a place with you, and being your plaything. I’m done with the games and the back and forth on what I am to you. I’m so done with you. If you have any once of respect for me you’ll do me a favor leave me the fuck alone.” You stormed away before he could even make a move to try and save the shreds of your relationship. You walked as fast as you could to find your friend group. With your head hung low and as quiet of a voice as you could muster in the loud club you told your friends, Hongjoong, Yunho, Minho, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, and Wooyong that you were not going to be able to go participate in your regular hang out nights anymore, your only explanation being you and San weren’t on good terms and you didn’t know if your friendship would be good again.

The guys didn’t see or hear the exchange but they saw the angry tears running down your cheeks that you had been trying to hide and knew that the situation was not good in the slightest. They watched you angrily wipe at your mascara stained cheeks and march off. They were worried for you. They saw San off in the hallway he had pulled you to, his head was pressed to the wall as sobs wracked his body. His fist was hammering the wall as he appeared to be cursing himself for what went down. The boys felt like children caught in the middle of their parents fighting and it had them all feeling a major sense of unease.

You spilled the beans a few days later to Yeosang, Wooyong, and Seonghwa when they came to check on you while you were staying on your friend Winter’s couch. She was helping you navigate moving out and moving on from the boy you had been hurt by. She knew the whole story and comforted you as you told the three boys about everything, well not all the sexual things after you got into a little bit about it and they looked ready to send you off to a convent. The boys were angry for you they understood that you felt played and that your feelings seemed to be disregarded, but they also understood that San was not the best when it came to emotional vulnerability or communication. They wanted you to open the door to him to try and repair things. But you were insistent on never speaking to San again due to how hurt you were. You couldn’t bear looking him in the eyes knowing you had been a toy to him. That he wanted to have all the aspects of dating you, but wouldn’t even admit he was sleeping with you. Was he embarrassed with you? Were you not enough? Your mind would spiral every night as you laid on Winter’s couch questioning your value to San, your friendship as a whole, your own sense of self. You picked yourself apart to the atom, finding more and more reasons to wonder what it was that made San begin the denial of your relationship when asked about you.

They helped you pack your things when San was at work and within the hours of his shift any trace of you was gone. Your new apartment was only a few blocks away with San none the wiser. When he came home to see every trace of the years you’d shared by his side gone, his heart was crushed like a hammer was hitting him square in the chest. The end of September was now San’s least favorite time of year, because it’ll forever mark when he lost to you due to his own stupidity.

Days without either of you speaking turned into weeks, then months. The cold gray winter had come in to chill your bones and steal your breath. It turned your cold heart to ice as you began to move on from the beautiful boy you had fallen for. It was as if the past few years never existed. Like the way you slept for months in his bed was an illusion. It was a fog, always a fog. Until those cold nights called for another body to join you in bed. Nobody else was good enough, it had to be him. The man who had you Pavloved into orgasming to the sound of his voice, the man who made your mind melt. San, Choi San was the only one for you.

San was no better off, cold nights yearning for your touch. Your voice haunting every time he had to rub one out. “Please Sir, please let Bunny cum! I-I’ve been so fucking good for you please!” one of his favorite memories. He could always remember every aspect of that night. He had been practicing some new Shibari tie methods and had you bound into the perfect present, intricate knots holding your breasts in place, your pussy exposed with your hands bound to your legs so you were immobile. You looked delectable with those pleading yet wild eyes, drool leaking from your mouth, and makeup running down your face. You looked practically angelic to him as he watched your eyes roll back into your head as he bullied his cock into you over and over, he recalled how with a whispered “such a good girl for me, yes you can cum.” the scream that flew from your lips as your eyes rolled back, the gush of your orgasm around him and how your pussy milked him dry. He remembered how you looked at him with such loving eyes as he took care of you and how you would let him lay on your bust as you kissed his forehead and assured him he wasn’t too rough with you. He remembered that while you slept he uttered “I love you” while he looked at you.

But he couldn’t get to make memories like that again, not until you’d let him speak to you, not until he could fucking find you that is. And most definitely, not if you have a new boyfriend or someone he can’t compete with for your heart.

While the two of you were pining for the other like a high school production of Romeo and Juliet the rest of the friends you and San shared were extremely annoyed by the way you two were acting like a divorced couple.

“I’m team Mom aka Y/N here but I don’t wanna deal with who has custody of us at Christmas being an issue. They need to kiss and make up” Yeosang declared while sitting with the others at lunch. They had planned a lunch to plan the intervention because as much as they didn’t want to admit it they would rather be annoyed by you two being romantic or possibly walk in on you two, than have to deal with the split custody issue. Thus the “Stop the Divorce” squad was put into action. They wanted you both happy and most importantly back together.

Soon enough their plan to get you two to hash shit out was put into action, Hongjoong the unofficial leader of the group sent San and you separate texts asking to meet up at his recording studio space to hang out. You arrived first, you had made yourself at home on the sofa and then about five minutes later San was walking into the room. “Oh fuck no, I’m not doing this.” You exclaim, grab your things, and make your way to the door to leave. It’s San who surprisingly makes the move to block your way out. Hongjoong and the others maneuvered to exit and lock the door as you and San stared down one another with laser like focus.

“Sit. The. Fuck. Down. Y/N.” He hisses through his teeth, using the tone of voice he reserved for those occasions you would have tested his patience when your dynamic was in place.

“You’re not the fucking boss of me anymore Choi San. Just fucking UGH!! Let me go!” You bark back.

“I’m not going to lose you now when I finally have you back in my life, I won’t make that same mistake again.” His voice sounded as if he was about to cry, it was broken. San’s voice carried his emotions after not seeing you for months,he sounded lost, hurt, terrified, and so, so sad.

“You won’t lose me Sannie, you never did. I went overboard leaving like I did, I was just so… so fucking scared. I was with you every day. I slept in your bed, woke up to you, brushed my teeth while you showered, held you when you cooked. It was becoming so real, so domestic, it felt too coupley when you wouldn’t even claim me as someone you had even been fucking! I couldn’t take it anymore, it was too painful.” Your voice broke as you crumpled to pieces before your former lover. His own eyes filled with unshed tears as he looked at you. Your hair hung in your eyes as you stared at your shoes. Your arms were wrapped around your body like a protective shield as you rocked back and forth avoiding him as your confession hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Oh bun. Shit, baby. I— fuck it. I love you Y/N I have loved you for years. I think it was sophomore year of college when I realized how I’d fallen for you. It was when you were there for me when Mina broke up with me, you didn’t even do anything but sit and listen as I cried. You told me something that day, do you remember?” You shook your head as you looked up at him with wide eyes at his confession. Your heart was thumping, head reeling at the words he’d just blurted out. “You held me and said ‘San, any chance to love you is a chance worth having. You love so greatly, so wonderfully, so wholeheartedly. Love from you in any capacity is love worth lifetimes of happiness that anyone would be blessed to have.’” You began to cry as you realized he was telling you the truth, he remembered verbatim the words you told him that day. He remembered the veiled confession you made.

“San, I love you too.” You whispered, almost incomprehensibly.

“Say it again, please”

“Choi San, I Y/N Y/L/N am undeniably in love with you.” You said louder, now smiling at him with tears cascading down your cheeks. His own tears falling from his eyes as your lips crashed onto his. The kiss tasted like salt from your mingling tears. He smelled like his cologne mixed with his own natural scent that was something so addictive. He felt like home. The warmth of his hands felt like forever.

You moved back in shortly after San confessed, loving him felt like walking on air; light, freeing, and gentle. The domestic routine was something you loved, a good morning kiss, another kiss as you both left for work, a welcome home kiss from him as he cooked dinner to reward you as you came back from a longer day at the office, so many kisses just because. He spoiled you in affection and words of his adoration for you, he made you feel so at home.

It was game night at your home with San, your friends all lounged on your couches as you curled into the worn leather loveseat nestled into the crook of San’s arm. Your head was resting on his chest as your sock covered toes poked at the arm of the small sofa, his laughter lightly shook you as a fond smile crept to your face as Seonghwa was forced into telling another embarrassing tale of his college dating woes. “So she walks into my dorm, I’m thinking ‘hell yeah I’m about to lose my v-card and BAM! The lego collection scared her away like DAMN can’t a man get laid and like legos?” He laments and the snort that left you at his story has the whole group laughing. “Okay just for that miss piggy, your turn, truth or drink?”

“For the sake of my liver, truth.”

“What’s the wildest thing San and you have done while fucking?” The sip of your single glass of wine for the night nearly launches from your nose as the boldness of Seongwha’s question sets in.

“What defines wild to you?”

“Nah sister, just answer the question.”

“Well there was this one time he had me collared with a leash but also tied up in this crazy position, like my ankles and wrists bound together so I was practically immobile. He fucked me so hard I blacked out, we’re okay with like him still going even when I’m not all there in the head. We’ve talked boundaries about that stuff so don’t keep looking at him like he’s a psycho. And yeah, or would you rather hear about how he had to punish me for being such a brat, he went so hard on me that day I had to call off work for three days so the bruises on my ass could heal and I could sit down properly?” You smirked and looked up at San, his eyes were burning onto you as his own smirk settled onto his face. He bent his head down and uttered one small phrase that had you shifting in anticipation.

“Strike one bun, you know I don’t like the idea of them imagining you all exposed and slutty for me.” His voice practically sounded like a purring lion. The shiver that went down your spine was visible to anyone looking your way.

“Well damn. Don’t go having war flashbacks over there Mr. and Mrs. Pornhub.” Yunho prompted as he cleared his throat. You shrugged and the game kept going. The questions only seemed to grow bolder as time passed and soon enough you all grew progressively drunker.

“Y/N truth or drink but if you drink it’s 3 shots this time!” Wooyoung drunkenly declares.

“That’s so foul, okay lay it on me.”

“Who in this room would you tell San you’d be cool to have a threesome with?” San’s grip on your thigh grew harsh in a warning. You promptly took the shots and groans of disappointment rang out as your friends still asked you to answer.

“Fuck it, ummmm Joong I guess.” You say not thinking as the alcohol muffled your mind of any proper filter.

“Strike two.” San’s voice rings in your ear. Like baseball, one more and you’re out of luck. So, you turn on the brat mode.

“I mean come on we all have eyes, Joong is cute and I’m not saying I would do it but hey who knows.” You shrug and you feel San’s eyes burning into your skull as Hongjoong blushes wildly and murmurs a question filled “thank you?”.

The third strike warning never comes as San finds an excuse for the party to end and within the hour you find yourself bent over his lap. The loud thwack! of the shiny leather paddle reserved for only the harshest of your punishments against your ass rings out as he orders you to count. “One! Thank you sir.” THWACK! “T-two! Thank you sir.” and so on until you hit fifteen. Your ass is ringing with pain as he manhandles you silently onto your back with your head hanging over the edge of the bed. You didn’t even have a moment to process before your ankles are on his shoulders and his cock is being pounded into your sopping cunt, tears leaked from your eyes and were hitting your hairline as cries of pained pleasure were ripped from your throat.

“Shut the fuck up and take it like the greedy whore you are.” His warm palm encased your throat as he squeezed it, choked gasp filled moans fell from your lips as the familiar feeling of floating euphoria filled your mind. The blood rushing to your head combined with the sensation of his hand around your throat squeezing your airway made each thrust hit that much more intensely. Your mind was going blank and you dropped into the headspace that made you lose all sense of thought and control. Your mind was solely consumed by San, only San.

“Sir, gonna cum!” You cried as that knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. He shook his head and pulled out, he pulled his hand away and maneuvered so he stood at the side of the bed near your face.

“Only good girls get to cum, you know that. Or are you too stupid to remember Bunny?”

“‘m a dumb bunny and forgot sorry sir! Please let me cum!” The tears fell harder toward your hairline as you gazed at him with pleading eyes.

“Suck Sir off and I’ll maybe let you cum.” He asserted and he began to thrust his cock down your throat as soon as your mouth opened. His cock bullied the back of your throat, spit trailed from your lips to your cheeks and hair as you gagged and moaned around his throbbing hard length. You could barely take half of him, but you wanted to please him so badly you relaxed you gag reflex and watched his face screw up in pleasure as he watched his length create a bulge in your throat as you worked to deep throat the entirety of his pulsating cock. It felt like hours of him thrusting in and out of your mouth, your mind was numb and you were still yearning for orgasm. After a few choked “Good girl bunny.”’s you felt his cum shoot down your throat. He pulled out and let the last few ropes of cum shoot over your face moaning as you tried to swallow more of his load.

“Oh Bunny you did so well for me, let Sir make you cum all over for him okay? Want me to eat that pretty little pussy and make you squirt for Sir?” A dumb nod in response was all it took for him to begin lapping at your sopping hole, moans and growls rumbled against your aching clit as he suckled on it like he was having his last meal. His tongue was expertly thrusting in and out of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit as he moved his head to lick you from your asshole to your clit a few times. Your head was reeling as silent screams left your lips, your eyes rolled back into your head as he gently nibbled at your clit. You couldn’t even give San a warning as with one last thrust of his tongue the wire in your core snapped and you felt that jolt of pleasure spread from your head to your extremities. Your legs shook as your fingers dug into his scalp and you held his head to your pussy. Gush after gush of your orgasm flooded from you as he continued to lick and suck at your core. You couldn’t even declare it being too much before another white hot orgasm hit you. You continued to whine and squeal as you soaked the sheets. He pulled away and watched as the lady sprays of your orgasm fled your body. “That’a girl, you there for me baby?” You nodded tiredly as he maneuvered you so your head was resting on a pillow. He had prepared prior to starting the scene having some water, baby wipes, and some pain cream for your ass for aftercare. He whispered soft praises as he moved you once again to massage your aching ass cheeks with the cream and to clean the sticky mess between your thighs with the baby wipes. His gentle touch was so comforting as he made sure you were comfortable after the intense scene was done. Once he was done cleaning you up and making sure you were alright he began to help you sip some water and he whispered more praises to you as you came down to earth from your headspace. Your heart was so full of love and warmth as you took in his gentle hands rubbing your arms and his honeyed voice cooing how proud he was of you, how good you were, and how in love with you he was. He held you close, his chest pressed firmly against your back as you began to be lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and the encompassing warmth radiating from his body.

“Sannie?” You whispered hoarsely, looking over your shoulder at him with shining eyes full of happy tears. He smiled and moved to rub them away with his free hand, he peppered kisses on your forehead as he did so.

“Yes my love?”

“I’m so glad the guys made us talk, I can’t imagine not having you in my life. I love you so much.” His own eyes began to fill with tears as he moved so he could kiss you deeply. He didn’t need to respond, his kiss conveyed his feelings. His kiss was warm, filled with the years of adoration he held for you. His arms were safe, protecting you from ever being harmed by the world outside your bedroom. His heartbeat was the metronome by which the melody of your happiness kept time. San was home, he was your forever.

To San, your soft skin was his oasis in a desert. The warmth of your skin on his was his security. Your hands held his heart. Your voice was what he imagined Heaven to sound like. You were his forever. You were his home. You were his peace when the world was too great to bear.

Mr. Mountain and his Bun, could anything be more wonderful? In your eyes, nothing could be better than that. Nothing could be better than loving Choi San. And to him, nothing could be more perfect than loving you with every fiber of his being.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @stolasisyourparent

1 October 2023:

Thank you for reading this far! If you like it please consider reblogging it helps a LOT! Please remember that this is a work of fiction and all of the idols mentioned are used as face claims for characters I’ve come up with. None of their actions or behaviors are indicative of who they maybe be IRL :)

[soullikethesea]

I think I'm in some kind of reenactment with T.

The thing that keeps occurring is that I get disappointed by something she neglects to do & then I feel super upset and want to lash out and can barely contain it (and IF I express it, it comes out as "never mind my question"). I sort of angrily retreat, because the insecurity of waiting totally trips me up.

The things in the last few sessions: she neglected to tell me that she'll have to cancel some of our appointments (and I planned around them to have my trip), so now we will have to have a sudden long break. Found out about this at the very end of the session, got very upset when I got home. Thankfully there was another session before the long break, arguably that makes it better. She also said she wasn't sure about one date and that maybe we could see each other next week.

I found it super hard to contain how sad and out of control I felt about this (it just triggered old stuff about my dad). So I tried arranging that other session, it was not possible. Nor was that date she wasn't sure about earlier. I felt more confused and hurt about the false hope. Emailed about how triggered I was, T replied with an email she meant to send weeks ago. The email from weeks ago actually met some needs, because it gave us things to work on.

Which involved writing confrontational letters for my parents. I did that. Got very triggered, had a period of very little sleep. Slowly got more functional again. I think the letters are a good starting point to work more on this topic. So I was hoping we could discuss them in that one session before the break.

But then it turned out that T had missed that email and hadn't read them. Since it was basically the most important topic for me, she asked if she could read during the session. So she read one of them while I was... idk, sitting there. And then she got all misty-eyed. We couldn't really get into what it meant to me, because I was super numb and disconnected and she was basically crying about how bad it all had been. Since we were quite disconnected from each other, I'm not sure if it was helpful. It just felt like "yeah, OK, now you realize how bad it was, but it doesn't change anything. I already went through it. It already happened and that is when I was alone. I've already dealt with it, alone. I've already tried telling you about this for years and I'm honestly surprised my words apparently didn't make an impact until now."

But I could tell that T was really trying and that also made me feel more mild. She did say some helpful things about the extent of the neglect and what effects it has on me. Time ran out and there was still the letter for my mother left. She asked if there was something she could do for me and said that I can email her and ask for replies. She also said she will still read the other letter and send me a reply. I thanked her and said that would be great, because right now we're still in that topic and in a month both of us will probably not remember. Given her work schedule, I expected her to take care of it that day or maybe the next.

Still no reply, and I'm getting quite triggered again. Why did she say she was going to do it? She didn't have to say that, you know. It would've given me more peace of mind not to be "waiting" like this. The thing is, I feel very ashamed of that letter. So now I wish I'd never sent it and never asked her to read it, nor agreed that she would.

Another reenactment of the same sort of situation. At least I'm realizing that now. So I think the best I can do is to let it go. I'm not sure how to do that, but I will try my best. She's only human, she's probably getting sucked into the reenactment same as me. I'm going to let it go and I'm going to count on myself. Just like I know how to do. I was trained for this, Lucas says. And a break is not the end of the world. I will let things flow as they go, and not try to force having support. It's not there in the way I wish it could be, and it's not there in words matching actions, but there is support out there in the world. I'm in a relatively good position now in my daily life and perhaps that fact in itself can already serve as support.

[mxnkeydo]

so scarlet (it was maroon) ✧ sokeefe

✧ ship: Sophie x Keefe

✧ what to expect: it all went down went a book went soaring across the classroom but sophie never expects it to end the way it does. acrylic smeared on cheeks, pigment-stained clothes, and a whole keefe sencen later, maybe she never despised him as much as she thought she did.

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor, sarcasm - enemies to lovers trope, human au, and a love triangle to torment you guys 😈

✧ word count: 1.58k

✧ warnings: mild use of swearing

✧ link to masterlist

✧ link to chapter six

✧ link to chapter eight

✧ A/N: I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SM AHHHH i hope you love it as much as i do!!!! (i know this chapter is all fluff, but be prepared for some angsty chapters ahead...MUAHAHAHAHA)

✧ taglist: @swans-chirping-in-the-distance @somerandomhuman080 @foxglove-and-foxfire-lover @carolineforbae

reblogs would be most appreciated! :)))

***

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Why the hell is your shirt so wet?”

Keefe stopped in his tracks, mentally bracing himself for an argument or a lecture. Slowly, he turned to face his father.

“It’s nothing,” he settled for, trying to escape the situation, but Cassius took one big stride closer to grip his son’s varsity jacket by the collar. Keefe whipped his head to the side; the cigarette smell coming from his mouth was too much to bear.

“Oh, but it’s something,” his father insisted. “What did you do this time, you useless delinquent?”

“I got paint on my shirt, that’s all!”

“Well. Wouldn’t expect anything better from you.” Cassius snorted. “No dinner for you tonight. Go up to your room and stay there, you hear me boy?”

Keefe’s rebellious streak suddenly emerged and he shot back, “I’m not ability challenged, you know. I can hear just fine.”

Cassius shoved him back so hard, Keefe hit the wall with an “oof”. His father only laughed cruelly and strolled the other way like he hadn’t just abused his only son–whose elbow was probably damaged from the impact. Keefe gripped his injured arm and scurried up the stairs, half in fear and half because he needed to get away from everyone. There was someone who could make him feel better, but he was too tired to call her. Plus, he was ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t want to be around a depressed kid who didn’t have his feelings set straight. In this state, he would most likely embarrass himself in the worst way possible. It was better for everyone if he was left alone.

Just before Keefe went to sleep, he removed the false bottom from his drawer and rummaged through. Once his fingers brushed against a spiral notebook, he pulled it out and settled in his bed, taking off his shirt to wrap it around his arm like a sling. And with a deep breath, he pressed his pencil to the paper.

Keefe let his hands completely take over, drawing curved lines and shading different sections. He drew two perfect eyes, tiny flecks surrounding the iris. He sketched her full lips, her blinding beam, the way her left eye had more lashes than the other since she always pulled on them.

When he was finished, he was left with a portrait of Sophie Elizabeth Foster staring up at him with a wide, innocent look. Keefe gripped his notebook, not able to take his eyes off her. How a girl like her had come into his life so suddenly, he didn’t know. But the universe seemed to taunt him with the fact that she would never be his.

The funny part? Keefe already belonged to her.

✧✧✧

Sophie and Keefe had just stepped into her house when her phone rang with a notification. “What now?” Sophie sighed as she pulled it out. Keefe leaned forward to see but the glare of the lights made it extremely difficult. He watched Sophie instead, as her eyes widened and her brows rose far above her hairline. 

“What happened?” Keefe dared to ask, only to be hit by the Foster frenzy Sophie was going through.

“Oh, shit! I am so sorry, Keefe, I can’t do our session today. Fitz and I have a date at four that I can’t cancel. I don’t even have time to get ready!”

Keefe wilted visibly at his ex best friend’s name. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his watch: three thirty-six. 

“It’s fine.” At his tutee’s agitated expression, he said, “It’s fine, Foster. Really. I don’t mind.” But in his head, he thought fiercely, oh, but I do mind. I mind very much.

That very thought evaporated when Sophie shot him a grateful smile, leaving his brain blank and useless for anything other than gawking at her. “Thank you so much,” she said in one breath. “I’ll drop you off on the way, alright?” Leaving no room for an argument, she dropped her bag at the bottom of the staircase and dashed up to her room.

Silence. The ginormous gold clock hanging on the living room wall ticked mercilessly. Keefe pinned his eyes to the minute hand and watched it make its way around the circular surface.

3:37

3:38

3:39

Once that got boring, Keefe began to explore the house. It was extremely quiet, of course; Grady was probably at work, and maybe Edaline was out running errands. But even with no one present, he could still imagine the joyful memories made here: baking in the kitchen, games in the main room, happy meals in the dining area. Upon the sight of that glass table, Keefe was brought back to the time when Sophie invited him to dinner. It was ridiculously awkward, of course, but that didn’t mean he hated it entirely. In fact, it was probably his first time in ages having home-cooked food with other people; he and his father usually got takeout and ate in their separate chambers.

At this point, Keefe was near the stairs, admiring himself in the mirror hanging off one of the walls, flexing his injured elbow. And at this precise moment, Sophie chose to emerge from her bedroom. 

The soft taps of her converse jolted him out of his narcissistic trance, causing him to look up. Once he set his eyes on her, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

Unlike Biana, Sophie wasn’t much for sparkles and extravaganza, yet somehow she managed to make everything look good. Keefe ran his eyes over the simple white crop top, her denim shorts, and the pink and blue flannel she’d thrown on over it as she descended like a regal queen. Her hair was down as usual, like a graceful waterfall, but she’d braided it in a half-up half-down hairdo. She was gorgeous, she was stunning, she was beautiful, and Keefe couldn’t help but stare.

Sophie looked at him through her lashes. “Keefe? Keefe! C’mon, let’s g–”

It all played out in slow motion. On the second to last step of the stairs, Sophie yelped, tripping over her own feet, arms pinwheeling in an attempt to regain balance. As she fell backward, Keefe grabbed her hand and planted his on her back, promptly preventing her from splitting her head open on the steps. 

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, Keefe thought in a blur of thrill and shock. Because in this position, with Sophie in his arms, her lips were closer than they ever had been before. In the next few seconds, their choppy breaths synchronized with one another like a harmony to a melody. For some reason, Keefe seemed to feel everything but nothing at once. It was a curious emotion, one he’d never felt prior to Sophie’s appearance in his life, but it resurfaced every time he was within a six-feet radius of her. He was one-hundred percent sure Sophie could hear the wild, hysteric beat of his heart.

She was a mess of gorgeous chaos, he could see it clearer than anything in her eyes. He looked at her fondly, savoring the moment before it ended; Keefe knew it was only for a few seconds, but to him it lasted an eternity

She has a boyfriend, an unelpful voice sang in his head. Clearing his throat, Keefe pulled her to a standing position.

“That was quite the fall, Foster,” he said to break the tense silence. A bright red color crept onto Sophie’s cheeks. “You really know how to make a dramatic entrance, don’t you?”

“I didn’t fall,” she muttered defiantly as they walked to the door, still flustered. “I just— attacked the floor.”

Keefe lifted one eyebrow. “Backwards?”

“I’m freaking talented, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, Foster,” Keefe said, grinning like a maniac. A minute passed before Sophie glanced over again and said,

“Quit smirking at me!” 

“I’m not smirking.”

“Well stop laughing at me, I’m serious!”

“I’m not laughing!” Sophie crossed her arms, frowning. Keefe could sense the irritation building up inside of her and couldn’t resist feeling somewhat proud that he was able to get a rise out of her so quickly.

“Then quit whatever it is you’re doing.”

“This is just me with a cheery disposition, a ray of sunshine in the mist of bleakness! Don’t put a cloud over my sunshine– OW!” 

Sophie was the one smirking now, her arm still outstretched from flinging her purse at his head (with a surprising amount of force that Keefe hadn’t anticipated). In her eyes was an evil glint, the one he’d seen when Ms. Clarette had forced Sophie to apologize for smacking him with that book of hers.

When she brushed her hair out of her face and strided towards her car, he swore he spotted a hint of a genuine smile on her face. Out of the blue, he wondered what ran through her head when someone said his name. Did her stomach flutter nervously like his did? Did she feel giddy too?

Of course she didn’t. She had Fitz to think about, didn’t she? She already had someone to fawn over. 

But he just couldn’t stay mad, seeing her cute pout while she struggled to open the car door before realizing she hadn’t unlocked it yet. Keefe snickered, stopping abruptly when Sophie shot him a glare that could kill.  “Just get in the fucking car, Sencen,” she said exasperatedly. Trying his best to forget his crush was going on a date with his ex best friend, Keefe gave her a mock salute.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

[opal-owl-flight]

alright i know it a bit off topic to what you are doing right now. but is angst really necessary for a character. all it does it make me feel so horrible for them. just saying

This is tumblr, the rule for this is to block me/the angst arc tags and move on. If you are who I think you are, Im going to take the step myself for both our sakes.

This is my story. Youre not obligated to read it, youre not obligated to keep up. If the content upsets you, you dont force the writer to change the story they want to write. You leave for the sake of your emotional state. I wont take offense to that as we all have our tolerance for upsetting topics/stories. (God knows I have my own.)

As for angst being necessary?

Have you seen the shit these characters go through in canon?

You can make the argument for everything being cartoon violence but DO REMEMBER that Hal Labs themself has made final bosses scream in pain while youre in the process of giving them a soul-smashing beatdown. And in the case of True Arena for Mags -- you can hear him begging for help in the bg as you fight. (Epilogue also has a lot of angst. Fucks sake one of Mags' "taunt" animations has him crying.)

Im not exactly adding angst where there isnt. It is simply an extension of canon.

Or do you speak of my more painful arcs, like False Paradise or Back to Zero?

Again, they are simply extensions (in my interp) of whats given in canon. I take the canon stuff seriously in my writing, thats just how I do. Those events have lasting effects on the characters. You cant say someone gets possessed and theyre all hunky dory the next time you see em. Wasnt Dedede implied -- no. Straight up SAID by Hal --- to have had trauma from Fecto Forgo? So for my way of writing things, Whos to say the others didnt as well?

In terms of the relationships for those two arcs. (+Nova Incident too what the hell.) Magolor wasnt the best person. He still isnt, sometimes. Healing from what hes done while he was lashing out, for all parties involved, is not going to be smooth sailing. Sometimes things start to look up but and then go nasty in the middle. Thats just the way things are.

BtZ's basis is touching on how puppy love/crushes tend to die the longer you know a person. You find things you dont like about the fellow you admired. And that breaks them apart. Its very fortunate in rhe end of this arc though that both parties see their mistakes/flaws and learn to accept and grow with them, and thats why they got back together.

Angst makes good payoff.

And about excessive angst? Thats subjective. And I always resolve them in the end. (Hell, even Legacy has a good ending now...mostly bc I nuked it after the rewrites). Im not really good with ending things badly, so my stuff always wraps up on a happy note. (I should probably post more of the fluff stuff tbh, but its impact is heavily reduced without the angstier context.)

Tldr, in my interp/writing style, angst is indeed necessary for the character. One, a lot of it is already canon anyway. Two, this is my way of exploring/extending the character and their themes (Mags leans heavy on trust and forgiveness). Three, all of this makes for more satisfying closure/payoff.

[jellisdraws]

Wip Whenever

Been a long time since I’ve done one of these but thanks for the tag @captastra !!!

Will post some work from the revisions I’m doing to one of my wips atm and hope that that is ok

“Stop!” The gun leveled towards her chest, and at this range the chance of a miss would be nonexistent, “Ma’am your protection against deadly force was nullified when you snuck a class C hidden weapon aboard this vessel. Now, will you comply?”

Jack stared at the bot for a long moment, mouth open, “Oh.”

“Will you comply?”

“So you knew…How far did you say your friends were again?” The grin splitting her lips destroyed the mask of false indignation. She almost could have laughed.

“Ma’am?”

”I don’t suppose you let me just squeeze by you, would you?”

“I’m taking you into custo-“

Hand to hand fighting programs spun up in her cyberbrain as she launched herself towards the corpro-bot’s left side with the moves of a practiced martial artist, spinning and slamming her flat palm against the gun, the alloy of her prosthetic right arm clacking heavily against the plastics of the weapon.

The gun jerked as the bots heavy arm was shifted by the blow and it's finger tightened, releasing a loud burp and a short spray of bullets into the corridor to ricochet off the floor and sleeping pods. Releasing the gun with one arm the bot swung at her, the mechanical arm denting the bulkhead with an ominous creak as Jack ducked the wild attack.

“Comply!” The voice from it's chest yelled with frustration, “I am calling for assistance! Target location-“

“No reinforcements,” Jack said as she moved in once more, “please!”

With a swift flip of her mechanical wrist her hand folded back into the confines of her arm and the eight inch Aether-Infused titanium blade sprang forth. She lunged, carving through the arm holding the gun. The swift slash cut deep into the ceramic armor and severed runic connections inside, the arm fell limp and the weapon to clattered across the hall. A tinny curse exploded from the bot’s chest as it attempted to grab her; she spun away, blade sweeping up to carve a sparking trail through the lens of the Corpro-bot’s face.

“Better luck next time chrome do-OH”Her gloating was cut short as the bot’s long arm lashed out and caught her in the chest, slamming her down the hallway to impact a sleeping pod and careen to the floor. ‘So they armored up the faceplate since last time… ow.’

Heavy footsteps made their faltering way toward her as she groaned on her back, feeling pretty sure she had just broken something expensive. ‘Though most parts of me are expensive, anymore.’ She rolled to her feet and barely got her arms up to block another heavy swing, her arm-blade slicing into the assaulting limb, wrenching free as the bot pulled back, fist cocking to turn her pretty horned head into pretty horned pulp against the bulkhead.

In that split second Jack lept forward on her mechanical leg, the chips in her cyber brain accelerating her augmented body to move faster than any natural fighter could hope to achieve and with a heavy crack, punched her blade forward deep into the armor of the Corpro-bot’s chest.

It crashed back onto the floor, pulling her with it and nearly knocking her breath from her as she met the floor with bone rattling force...again. Sparks flew as the tinny voice began to speak and arcano- tech began to whir to a halt, indicating she had severed something vital. ‘That was close.’

“Destruction of property has been added to your docket, and use of deadly force will be employed by all uni-” the voice cut to static before the whole machine whirred to stop, the violet aetheric glow fading to blackness.

Jack stood, catching her breath again, and in the heavy silence made her way over to the sleeper pod, which was riddled with bullet holes. Silence from within. She opened the hatch, expecting the gore-splashed worst, but found the pod fortunately empty. A sigh of relief. That was not something she needed on her conscience.

As she closed the pod the light swoosh of a door opening down the aisle caused her head to jerk that way, inky eyes scanning frantically. Two, three, four more corprobots filing down towards her, heavy feet clanking on the hard floor. The lead bot raised it's weapon. ‘And just one was that much of a pain? Time to fucking go.’

Tinny voices called out after her but Jack wasn't listening. She began to backpedal towards the door, casting a sending spell from her neural communicator. A ringing began in her ear as her call connected.

“Cmon, Cmon!” She urged, rushing through the portal and into the next cabin of the starliner. A burst of gunfire came from behind her, bullets whistling by, the sharp crack of a ricochet. Someone screamed to her left but she was too busy sprinting for her life. The ringing persisted.

“C’mon! Pick up! Pick up!” the old fashioned ringtone continued to mercilessly mock her. She risked a look over her shoulder. The corpro-bots were running after her, a phalanx of arcano-tech out for her blood. And they were gaining.

“Oh, not good.” She gulped, picking a corner at random and bolting down the hallway there, headed for the interior cabins of the ship.

“What's not good?” came a sleepy voice in her ear, “Where are you? Do you know what time it is here?”

“OCK! Oh thank fuck. I need an exit route, now.”

“Are you sure it can't wait? It's like 4th cycle before sunrise.” Oculus said around a yawn.

“I'm being shot at!”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“If I die, I am going to kill you!” she swore at her handler.

Another yawn, “Yeah yeah, I'm pulling it up now. Which Starliner did you take?”

Jack ducked down another corridor, “The Solar Phantom Cruiser Dauntless. Booked under the name Maribel Park.”

“Pulling you up,” There was a pause as keys clicked, “ Wait, I’m seeing you stowed a side-arm? You had a gun, and you gave it up? Among the most accomplished agents of corporate espionage in the Unified Systems, knowingly being chased by a crazed farming cult, and you stowed your firearm? For this I lose sleep?”

“Yeah yeah, have your fun old man,” She said, edging down to the corner of the hall and peeking around. Nothing. Out the window the Gate inched closer, the Starliner patiently waiting it’s turn to warp. She slipped across as the tapping of runic keys coming through the spell-link paused.

“Old? Im only in my 200’s!” Indignation tinged the rough voice in her ear.

“Yeah, well you're as crotchety as all the hells put together,” Jack teased.

“Fuck off Jackie, it's too early for this,” Ock said, but Jack could hear the grin in her handler’s rough voice.

She steadied her breathing, “Just help me out will ya? I couldn’t find a reliable forger for a fake license on the fly and the guards wouldn't take bribes. The new security bots in Kigaren star ports have integrity programs installed.”

“All Corp made bots have integrity programs installed Jackie.”

“Then these ones just have sticks up their butts, I don't know! Just find me an exit, please. And, if I live, I’ll buy you those noodles you like when I get back.”

“That sounds more like the girl I know. Ah- ok, so blueprints. Looking though now, It seems you have two real options. Go find your gun-”

“Do you want me to kill you?”

The sound of heavy footsteps began moving up the hallway- tinny voices issuing orders, getting closer.

“Let me finish sheesh. Or get to the bridge and get through the Gate before they can black bag you. The warp should play enough havoc with their power sources to give you a shot of getting off that tub. Bots need to shield their arcane cores to remain functional during Gate travel, which means-

“If I can get the ship into warp before they expect it, I can fry them and dust out before they know what hit them! You’re a genius Ock!”

“Thats why they pay me the big bucks, little miss. Just remember that you need to-”

But Jack wasnt listening. She had already ended the spell and shifted direction, running down the hall full tilt as mechanical feet pounded onto the steel floor after her.

Aaaaaaand that’s that. I’ll see about adding a cut somewhere. For now I’ll keep it going by tagging @shadoedseptmbr @pigeontheoneandonly @swaps55 @headspace-hotel @wolven-writer and anyone else who may be interested. But remember no stress and no worries, this is just for fun :)

[irlkanamedate]

The current state of my mental health.

Gonna be real honest right off the bat. Its bad. You guys know its been bad but I mean its real bad right now.

Im a mess and it won't make any real sense i dont think so read or not, its under a cut.

[Suicidal, eating disorder, just in general bad shit I guess]

Its been months of feeling worse and worse and feeling utterly hopeless and lost. Months of constant bullshit from either my brain, my living situation, my fucking financial situation, or whatever else decides to come by and ruin what I thought was things getting better.

I find myself once again falling back into the delusional spiral because I'm having a harder and harder time regulating my emotions and mental state and if I had ever been mean or snippy or just awful to you guys, I am genuinely sorry. I dont even remember a lot of this shit I did cause my visual timeline of things have been cut so much due to just being in this black fog of self loathing.

And maybe it is my own fault for self sabotaging and dipping from so many things. Ruining friendships and all idk. Hell i can't even bring myself to actually talk to a lot of you guys cause im just so... fucking lost.

Constantly torn between multiple different sorts of realities in my brain and being too much in a constant bad mood to feel comfortable engaging or I might say something bad or be snippy so I just run away from it again and again.

I am just some kind of burden to you guys in my own mind. Some kinda burden to my own family. Just some hopeless directionless corpse that genuinely feels like I have made no real impact to anyone. And it isnt any of your faults. I know this isn't really... true. But its such an active hard struggle to fight against this pure delusional thought that I get so tired.

I get so tired trying to just... remind myself over and over. And then my brain fight back going like "if it isnt true then why are you the only one saying it? Where is your proof?" Or pulling some other bullshit move to make me believe this false reality.

Im so tired guys. But I hate being a burden. You guys say I'm not some times but I can't stop feeling like one.

Im not saying this or ever do anything to make you guys shower me in affection and love. I never want to manipulate that sort of thing. I never intend to. But sometimes I think I do it subconsciously cause im just fucking blinded by so much shit.

I cant help but think how much I might actually be a horrible person.

Especially when I want to be mad. I want to get angry. I want to lash out. But I know its often unreasonable. But fuck when I try to be reasonable and hold back and try to be mature I still get a fucking shit result.

I dont know what to do.

I feel like everything is always and has always been my fault. My fault always my fucking fault. It's my fault I can't make decisions. My fault im a people pleaser. My fault I got assaulted. My fault I am poor.

I stopped eating cause I believed it could help my mom if she didn't have to feed mr along with that fucking bastard but here I am spending money on non essentials cause it made me happy.

But nothing really makes me happy in the end does it?

Im still here. Shit living situation, poor as shit, unable to hold a job due to multiple reasons. Unable to get proper medical care. Unable to truely be the fucking man I want to be. Unable to express anything properly and truely.

Im suicidal as shit. I made promises to many people I wont do it. And I still won't. But because guilt is whats keeping me here really.

I do love all my friends so much. I appriciate so much of what you guys do for me. And im so angry and upset I can't always see that cause my brain is so hell bent on killing me.

So I just feel guilty all the time. That I still feel like fucking shit even though I get love and care. I feel guilty for asking for things. Feel guilty for taking up space, for needing things, for just being alive but also feeling guilty for wanting to die all the time now. But I can't kill myself cause I feel guilty for breaking promises and making people sad. But I feel guilty for expressing just how bad I am cause that makes people sad.

Im stuck here by guilt and I dont know how to change that so I just feel worse and worse and worse. I cant eat but I try to eat a little so I dont make people feel too bad but I hate eating.

I dont know. I just dont know anymore.

I cant see any real future for me. I just can't.

And so im just... stuck here. Just existing day by day. Silently hoping one day I just never wake up again. Cause then I didnt make that choice. Something or someone else did for me. And I wont have to feel that guilty. Or something. Or at all cause I wasn't really awake. I dont know.

Im sorry. I'm just not ok. And this isnt even all of it i dont think but im just... so tired.

I am so tired guys.

[sweatydestinyblaze]

Killua and Mika..I love you

With a resigned sigh, Killua resigned himself to the chains holding him to the wall of the torture room.

He was already used to his family's beatings and had endured worse at an even younger age. As soon as he had gotten too far in the Hunter Exam, he knew his punishment would be waiting for him at home.

*"What will they come up with this time?"

He thought to himself, steeling himself.

*"Whatever happens,"

he mused,

"I'll never give them the satisfaction of hearing my screams."*

As Killua's vision returned, he saw his surroundings. He was tied up in the large, dark room with no windows. The only light was from the flickering flames coming from a torch on the wall.

He was cold, bruised and bloody. But all of this wasn't what worried him the most, it was the man in front of him. His brother Miluki, with the whip hanging from his hand, and a smile on his face.

Killua's annoyance was met with a cruel smile from his brother Miluki, who raised the whip into the air as if ready to strike. For a moment, all was silent, before...

***SNAP!***

*"I have something special for tonight," Miluki said, with another cruel smile.

"And I must say, it is a real pleasure seeing you in this sorry state."

*

The tip of the whip swung towards Killua, who rolled his eyes again.

"Do you mind getting this over with?"

he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

*"You ask that as if you had a choice,"

Miluki said, with a sneer on his face.

"Oh no, we're going to enjoy every painful moment of this."

Miluki raised the tip of the whip once more, as if he was going to strike. He grinned as he saw the fear flicker in Killua's eyes.

"But please,"

"Try and hold in your screams. I'd hate to see my brother lose all of his manly pride."*

*Killua's face showed only annoyance as he endured the lashing of Miluki's whip. He wasn't afraid, nor was he even in pain. He just wanted it to be over.

"Are you done yet?"

he asked in a bored tone, looking at the red marks lining his body from Miluki's blows.

*This only angered Miluki, who thrashed the whip down harder, aiming for more vital parts: his eyes, his neck, his abdomen. Anything that wasn't already bloodied. But to no avail, Killua simply ignored him.

*"You're not even going to scream?"

Miluki said, with a note of disappointment in his voice.

"I was hoping to have a better impact than that."

*He paused, as if in thought. Killua's eyes remained on his brother, as if studying him.

*"What are you looking at?"

Miluki asked, looking annoyed.

*"What's wrong, big brother?"

Killua asked, playing up his innocence.

*"Do not mistake my silence for weakness,"

Killua said coldly, looking right back at his brother.

"If you strike enough, it might actually hurt."

*Miluki looked taken aback at the unexpected response. He was used to Killua cowering in fear, not... this.

*"Don't bother with false innocence,"

he said, raising his arm and readying the whip again.

"I know what you're really thinking."

*He struck down the whip, aiming for Killua's head and neck.

*"Oh, I could scream,"

Killua said, a note of amusement in his voice. He raised one eyebrow slightly, as if in challenge.

"I just choose not to."

*"You must learn, brother,"

Killua continued, his tone still bored.

"That I am not the same boy you used to torture with impunity. My experiences have made me strong, I do not fear your punishments."

He looked away, seemingly bored, as if he did not even need to pay attention to his brother anymore.

Killua's words seemed to anger Miluki even more. He raised the whip once more, and this time... his attacks were relentless.

Killua did not budge. He never broke eye contact with his brother, even as his skin began to turn redder from the lashes, welts forming all over.

His expression never faltered, never once showing any sign of fear or pain.

*Miluki eventually stopped, exhausted from his efforts. He looked on with a mixture of hatred and shock.

*Miluki snarled in annoyance, not liking that his brother seemed to be bored of him. He hated that he was trying not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

*"If you are so strong now,"

Miluki said, with a cruel smile,

"then why aren't you breaking these chains, hmm? Surely you could free yourself if you wanted to... or have you become weak since I last saw you?"

Miluki raised the whip again and thrashed it against Killua's back, leaving more bloody marks.

*"How disappointing"

Miluki whispered, as if he was trying to hide his annoyance from Killua.

"I really thought you had grown stronger, but it seems you're still just as weak as ever."

*This only made Killua scowl.

"*Is that all you have, brother?"

he muttered, as the whip hit his back again and again.

"I think I'll sleep through this one."

Killua continued, looking at Miluki with a cold look.

*"You are mistaken, brother,"

Killua said again, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"The chains are only here to distract you. Because I am confident I could easily break out of them."

He turned to face Miluki, his arms and legs still chained to the wall.

"Are you confident you could keep me in these chains if I really tried to leave?"

he taunted, daring Miluki to take those chains off.

*"Or are you afraid to find out how strong I've become?"

Killua laughed sarcastically as he looked at his brother Miluki's fat body.

*Killua continued scowling as the lashes of the whip rained down over him, his wounds reopening with every strike.

*"That's all I have? Oh, I could do much more."

Miluki said, sounding frustrated.

"But if you insist on playing the tough guy, I'll have to show you how much worse I could make this."

*The whip came back down on Killua, hitting him in a spot that he didn't have a wound yet. He grimaced, but he refused to make a sound.

*Miluki smirked, still holding the whip in his hand.

"Who's that?"

he asked, seemingly not concerned by the phone call.*

*Killua, still chained to the wall, stared silently at his brother's smirk.

"It's just Mom,"

he said, trying to sound dismissive and unbothered.

"Don't worry about it."*

Killua stared after his brother as the door to the torture room was closed once more and he was left alone.

"That was strange

" he thought to himself

"Whatever the reason for that phone call, I really thought he would ignore it."

He was still chained to the wall, and his wounds were still freshly reopened.

He wondered how long his brother was going to leave him there, tied up like this.

"Maybe this was his plan all along?"

he mused, as he tried to move his arms from their chained position.

*Killua heard the voice coming out of the shadows.

"Mika?"

he said, sounding annoyed.

"What are you doing here? If Miluki sees you, he'll... "*

*Killua stopped himself mid-sentence, not wanting to say out loud what could potentially happen if Miluki knew she was there. He looked around, annoyed that he had let his guard down as she approached.

"What do you want?"

he asked.

“Of course, you idiot, I came to save you,”

Mika says as she approaches, but Killua stops her.

*Killua continued to look annoyed as Mika got closer. He didn't trust her intentions.*

*"What do you mean 'save me'? "* he said, sounding unconvinced. *"I am perfectly capable of breaking out of these chains. I just haven't felt like doing it yet."*

*He gave himself a moment to consider this, before turning to look at Mika.

“I told you I would save you,”

Mika continues walking towards him, but he stops her again.

"I have my doubts about that," Killua said, looking at Mika with a suspicious look.

"I know you better than anyone. You do not do things unless you have your own incentive."

*His voice remained cold and dismissive, but a tiny part of him was still hoping that Mika really was there to help.

"Either way, I don't need your help."

"I can't believe you still don't trust me, even after what we went through during the Hunter Killua test,"

Mika says as she tries to remove the restraints.

*Killua looked at Mika's attempts to remove the restraints, but shook his head.

"Don't touch me,"

he mumbled, sounding more annoyed than worried.

"I told you: I don't need your help could easily escape these chains on my own, if I really wanted to."

*He didn't know why these chains were on him. Maybe they were there to distract him from something else? Whatever the reason, it certainly didn't look like an act of

"saving"

him from here.

"Trust isn't something that comes easily to me,"

Killua said, turning his head away from Mika.

"And the eventsof the Hunter exam were a long time ago. Since then, I have found it difficult to trust anyone, no matter how close they were to me."

"Besides, if you really wanted to let me out of these chains, they would already be off,"

he said, raising a single eyebrow as he looked back at Mika.

*"Unless you don't actually have the means to break them..."

"Shut up Killua Gon, Kurpika and Leorio are here too. We all want you back with us."

*Killua's face changed from annoyance, to confusion, to surprise. He was not expecting the news that Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio were also there, and wanting him back with them.

*He also was not expecting that Mika was not there for her own agenda.

"Really?"

he asked, sounding hopeful.

"All of them are here? And they actually want me back?"

" Yes "

*Killua still had a hard time believing all of this was real, but he was hoping it was true.

"You wouldn't just tease me like this, right? You're not just getting my hopes up?"

he asked, sounding cautious.

He couldn't imagine them all being here for him.

"Is this some kind of cruel joke?"

“Can you just be quiet until I can undo these chains and then I will tell you?”

Mika was trying to undo the chains, but Killua forcefully broke them, freed himself, and approached Killua with annoyed steps until her back hit the wall.

*"Fine, you're right. I'll be quiet."

Killua remained silent as Mika tried to undo the chains. He let her try for a while before eventually forcefully breaking the chains himself and stepping forward.

As he walked towards Mika, she backed herself into a corner and hit the wall.

Killua had no problem freeing himself from the chains once he decided he wanted to, so it took him no time at all to approach Mika with a more irritated look.

"So this was your plan all along,"

he said, still sounding annoyed.

"This entire thing was to force your way into my trust."

*He looked down at the chains, before looking back up at Mika.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you,"

he said, with a cold smirk.

"You really like to do things your way, don't you?"

“Wait, let me explain....”

Before Mika could finish speaking, he grabbed Killua by the waist and pinned her to the wall with his body...

*Killua felt his suspicions getting even more justified as Mika tried to give him an explanation, but he didn't let her finish speaking. He grabbed her and pinned her to the wall with his body.

*He was confused as to what she wanted to explain, but he was now more focused on keeping her here.

"Don't go anywhere,"

he said, his voice sounding as cold and stern as ever.

"Killua, I swear I'm here with Gon, Kurpika, and Leorio... I'm not lying,"

Mika says as she feels his breath on her face.

Killua was still keeping a firm grip on Mika, not letting her go. He could tell she was genuinely not lying, but he also felt like she was trying to hide something from him.

He brought his face closer to hers, until their faces were just inches apart, and looked into her eyes.

"I really hope you're not lying,"

he said, sounding just as cold and harsh as ever. His expression did not change.

“I don't lie ,”

Mika says as she blushes because Killua isn't wearing his shirt and tries to look away.

*Killua kept looking directly into Mika's eyes. He kept his firm grip on her, not letting her get away. He also noticed how she blushed, and he let out a slight grin at the reaction he was getting.

*He took a moment to savor seeing her squirm before responding.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mika. You know that,"

he said, his voice still sounding cold but also almost playful now.

"You don't have to be ashamed of me just because I'm not wearing my shirt. Don't look away."

Killua could hear Mika's heart rate picking up as they were so close together; he was clearly getting to her. But he was still confused as to why she was actually here.

He put a hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him.

"Don't look away,"

he said, sounding much more serious.

"But if you're really here with Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio... then where are they?"

"They're in the servants room...now."

Mika feels nervous now, as Killua touches her lower lip..

Killua noticed Mika’s nervousness as he put a hand on her cheek, and he used that to his advantage. He brought his face even closer to hers, until their faces were almost touching, and looked deeply into her eyes once more.

He was still unsure about why Mika was really here, although his mind was now running wild with thoughts about her.

"If they are in the servants' room right now, then why are you here and not there?"

Killua brought his other hand up to the other side of her face, and gently brushed his fingers through her hair.

“I wanted to see you. I was in bad shape when I left the hunter exam...so here I am ."

Mika says nervously as she blushes even more and looks at the ground.

Killua raised his brow, and his curiosity peaked at what Mika was saying. If she was in bad shape after the Hunter Exam, why was she here.

"And you wanted to see me... for what reason?"

he asked, sounding just as serious as ever.

*He lowered his head down, bringing it almost level with hers, and placed his lips right above her ear.

"Be careful what you say, Mika... or I might start assuming things about you."

“I'm telling the truth, you're also my friend, like Gon, Kurpika, and Leorio, Killua, stop making it embarrassing,”

she says, looking at him with cute, childish anger.

Killua raised his brow as Mika got slightly annoyed. He loved to see that out of her. She was always so reserved and stoic, seeing any kind of change in her tone was fun for him.

*He continued to hold her there against the wall, not letting her leave.

"Do you really think you have the right to be angry at me for making this 'embarrassing'?"

he asked, sounding amused.

"You came all the way here... with 'Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio', right?"

he said, in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“Of course, Killua...”

Mika replies with more embarrassment as she looks at his bare chest. It was full of scars and wounds from his brother’s abuse. She touches his chest

“I was just worried about you.”

She says as she looks away with embarrassment.

Killua could feel her eyes on his chest, and how they were drawn to the many scars and wounds from his brother's abuse. He looked down at himself, before looking back at Mika.

He noticed how nervous she was, as she looked away with embarrassment.

"Well, I appreciate you worrying about me."

*He reached up and gently brushed her hair away from her face so that she couldn't look away.

"You say you came here out of worry, but I don't believe that's the only reason."

"Ah...there's another reason, but I can't tell you now,"

Mika says shyly.

Killua could see that Mika was trying to hide something. He also noticed how nervous she was becoming.

He was enjoying this.

"Oh really?"

he said, sounding amused.

"Well, I have a feeling that your 'other reason' has something to do with your blush."

*He brought his face closer to hers, so that their faces were just inches apart.

"You know I won't let you go until you tell me, right?"

he said, with a sly smile.

“I...I came here because...I care about you...I like you, Killua,”

Mika says, looking at him.

Killua was taken aback by the shy way in which Mika confessed her feelings. It was cute.

*He slowly brought his hand up to her chin and leaned in closer.

"How much do you care about me, Mika?"

he asked, his voice sounding serious but his eyes gazing into hers.

"Don't say anything you don't really mean."

Mika approaches him and gives him a soft kiss, then turns away.

“I mean this, Killua.”

She looks away .

*Killua was surprised at the sudden kiss, but he didn't pull away.

He had always been slightly attracted to Mika, although he never wanted to admit it. He could tell he had the chance to take this further, if he wanted.

*He brought his other hand up towards Mika and gently touched the side of her face, forcing her to look at him again.

"I hope you really mean all of that, because... I like you too."

“Yes, I am not lying, I love you so much, Killua,”

Mika says .

*Killua's expression changed to one of awe and he had a small smile on his face as he heard Mika confess her feelings.*

"I... I love you too."

He brought his hands up and gently laid them on her cheeks.

"And that's something I'm 100% sure of."

*He pulled her close and gave her another, longer and deeper kiss than the previous one, and then pulled her back out so that they could look at each other in the eyes.

Killua's smile widened as he felt Mika's arms go around his neck and their kiss become deeper and longer. This was certainly a much more passionate kiss than the one before, and it made Killua almost weak with excitement.

He leaned in close to her afterwards, before gently laying his hands on her cheeks.

"You are everything I've ever wanted,"

he said, his words sounding genuine, and his voice almost full of wonder as he spoke.

"I am so happy you're here now. I hope this can finally be over for me... to live the rest of my life here, with you."

[paperanddice]

A suicide shock trooper of a dream, the doomball is born from fears of secretive infiltrators coming to destroy you from within. This means they are actually far more often born from xenophobic societies, especially those who have lashed out at other groups to "defend" themselves. These dreams may take on the appearance of those who the dreamer fears will terrorize them, and are self-driving in a way. Societies that fear terrorist infiltrators will birth doomballs, which will inspire further fears of such infiltration and can lead to an out of control spiral that ends the people who spawned it.

The doomball is the sphere inside the body, but its existence does depend on the body as well. A doomball that fails to launch itself in time may be destroyed if its body is killed, potentially leading to a very confusing autopsy when the giant metal ball is discovered inside. If the doomball launches itself it can survive for a short while, sustaining itself on the reserves of energy in its false body, but invariably the flying ball falls still, so they try to save their launch for moments that will make a significant impact. Rarely do they have a true long term goal however, and so the ball will burst forth when it can cause major, noteworthy damage even if there is nothing else to follow up afterwards. If the doomball is coordinating with other dreams however, this can make whatever goal the other dream is driving far more effective, as the destructive power of the doomball can provide quite a bit of leverage and support.

Outside of a dream setting, I think the only "reasonable" interpretation of the doomball is a construct, which could be implanted into a living person's body (with presumably a lot of magic keeping them alive when half their abdomen is now a metal ball), or inside a fully artificial body. In that case they literally do become terrorist infiltrators though, and that ruins some of the dramatic irony of imagined terrorists creating real terrorists that I like from the above commentary. In game I don't recommend throwing a bunch of doomballs against your party for a single battle, especially the 13th Age version that actually dies after making its attack. Having them show up suddenly during an unrelated event, or surprising the party in the middle of another fight is more in line with the intention of the monster, so long as the situation seems vital enough to prompt such a final attack. Originally from the Dreamblade base set. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Doomball Medium aberration, unaligned Armor Class 16 (breastplate) in humanoid form, 18 (natural armor) in ball form Hit Points 93 (11d8 + 44) Speed 30 ft. (0ft., fly 40 ft. in ball form) Skills Deception +6 Damage Resistances in ball form; bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks not made with adamantine weapons Senses in ball form; tremorsense 120 ft. (blind beyond this radius) passive Perception 11 Languages any two languages Challenge 9 (5000 XP) Cannonball Flight. The doomball can enter a hostile creature's space, but cannot end its movement there. The first time it enters a hostile creature's space or moves within 5 feet of an object that isn't being worn or carried on a turn, it can make a Slam attack against that target. Charge (Ball Form Only). If the doomball moves at least 20 feet in a straight line toward a target and then hits it with a Slam attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 10 (3d6) bludgeoning damage. If the target is a creature, it must succeed on a DC 16 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. Detonate. As a bonus action, the doomball can release the sphere inside of it, killing its humanoid body and releasing its ball form. The doomball regains hit points until it is at its maximum. The doomball dies one minute after it uses this ability and cannot be restored to life by any means. The Man Bears The Sphere. The doomball is almost indistinguishable from a regular humanoid. The only thing that can reveal its true identity is somehow detecting or discovering the large, spiked metal sphere inside the doomball's abdomen, which cannot be seen or felt from outside of the doomball's body without magic. Actions Multiattack. The doomball makes two Warhammer attacks. Warhammer (Humanoid Form Only). Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 8 (1d8+4) bludgeoning damage or 9 (1d10+4) bludgeoning damage if used with two hands. Slam (Ball Form Only). Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 11 (2d6+4) bludgeoning damage plus 7 (2d6) piercing damage. Light Crossbow (Humanoid Form Only). Ranged Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, range 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d8+2) piercing damage.

13th Age

Doomball  6th level wrecker [aberration]  Initiative: +11 Clumsy Hammer Swing +9 vs. AC - 12 damage. Natural Odd Miss: The doomball takes a -2 penalty to AC and PD until the start of its next turn. R: Poorly Aimed Crossbow Shot +9 vs. AC (one nearby or far away enemy) - 10 damage. Natural Odd Miss: The doomball rerolls the attack against a random creature nearby to the target. R: Detonate +13 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - 65 damage. Natural 20: Instead of dealing double damage, the doomball can make another detonate attack against a different target. Miss: 30 damage. Limited Use: 1/battle, when the escalation die is 2+. The doomball dies when it makes this attack. The Man Bears the Sphere: The doomball is indistinguishable from a regular humanoid without magic or some kind of invasive surgery. If there’s a plausible crowd of humanoids not involved in the battle, it can attempt to hide among them before joining the battle on a future turn, or it may pretend to be on the PC’s side and attack their enemies. PCs may attempt a DC 20 skill check to recognize that the doomball is a threat and act against it before it enters the battle or turns on them. AC 21 PD 19 MD 17 HP 78

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #15: Thunderous

((A longer one. Violence, blood, and fire. Not safe for heretics or dragoons as we step back to last week and the aftermath of “Heady”...))

“There they are!” X’rhun exclaimed. “Thank the gods!”

Alberic only puffed a breath in agreement as they ran across and down the ravine to where Aeryn was tending to an ashen-faced Heustienne.

“The cavalry has arrived,” the injured dragoon said dryly, her damaged chainmail removed to allow Aeryn access to the wound. Not the worst Heustienne had ever taken, but more than bad enough.

“Thank Halone you’re safe,” Alberic said as X’rhun dropped to his knees next to the women to lend his own aid if needed. “We heard from Kal Myhk you’d tangled with a group of heretics—”

“They took us to Avengret,” Aeryn’s voice cut him off; quiet, too steady, too calm.

For a moment the world paused, until X’rhun’s tail lashed as he turned to look up at Alberic.

Aeryn wasn’t looking at him, her hands resting on her knees now, feet tucked under her. Heustienne’s gaze flicked between Aeryn and Alberic, her own questions barely held back.

“Let’s get Heustienne upright,” X’rhun said gently. “And then get back to—”

“Anyx Trine?” Aeryn interrupted. “Will they tell me the truth if I ask? They must know. If what she said is true.” She turned her head slightly toward Alberic without raising her face, looking at his boots. “She said I should ask you.”

“Aeryn…” His mouth was dry.

She looked up finally, lips parting to say more, but instead she drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shining silver, not seeing Alberic or anything else around her now.

He groaned, whether in fear or agony or relief, he wasn’t certain.

——

Alberic followed Corran Striker into the house. It was a pleasant little place, clean and airy. The edges of the walls were lined with brightly painted flower and vine designs, and small pieces of colored glass bordered the custom-framed windows to allow some of the light to also reflect rainbows into the rooms--that couldn’t have been cheap, Alberic thought.

“Please, leave your helm and lance by the door. I think my wife will forgive the boots this time.”

“I keep the lance close to hand, you understand,” Alberic replied as he at least set down his helm on the table by the door.

There was evidence of children; their house slippers by the door, a doll on a chair, a set of tin knights cluttering the low table in the sitting room. His heart ached. “What a lovely home,” he said. “Will the missus and children be joining us?”

Corran shook his head. “Emelia’s running some of her crafts all the way to Fallgourd in the Shroud, and took Zaine and Aeryn with her for the fun. They’ve been cooped up too long, she thought.” He smiled fondly. “It’s a way she deals with her homesickness, and shares that part of herself with our children; she grew up traveling part of the year selling wares as a girl in Thavnair.”

Relief, but also renewed wariness prickled along Alberic’s spine as he followed Corran to the kitchen, leaning his lance on the wall right behind his chair as he took the offered seat at the dining table. “Thavnair? That’s a ways away. Explains the colors though.”

“I got rather lucky,” Corran replied, his tone warm and genuine. “She misses it, but is somehow willing to stay with me.”

“Ever think of visiting?” Alberic asked casually as Corran went about the motions of preparing the lunch he had offered the tired dragoon when they had accidentally met in the treacherous priest’s chapel. Corran had seemed surprised to learn of Comfraire’s heresy, but had offered hospitality despite his own shaken state.

“If there wasn’t always so much work to do, perhaps someday we could,” Corran said quietly.

“I think I’d take the chance, perhaps even move permanently, were I a common man with a family. Get the children far from the war, among the wife’s people.”

“I won’t lie; the thought has occurred to me,” Corran said. “Though I’m surprised, Ser Azure; I’d think one like you would want to keep promising future soldiers for the war in Ishgard.”

Alberic shrugged. “As I said; were I a common man, with a foreign wife who misses her home and children with futures to think of.”

The chronometer in the hall ticked steadily as Corran worked. “Perhaps. Though much as she misses Thavnair, I’d miss Coerthas. I love my home, Ser Azure. There’s little I wouldn't do to see our homeland prosper.”

Alberic did not reply, not trusting his tongue to respond to the man’s gall.

As Corran came to the table with sandwiches and a decent-looking ale, Alberic smiled. “Then perhaps you can aid me in protecting our homeland,” he said. He hoped he was wrong about Corran. “I am tracking a dangerous creature I believe the false priest Comfraire was working with, coordinating an imminent attack from the Horde.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “I’m but a simple farmer, Ser. I don’t know what help I could be.” He glanced down at his plate.

The chronometer in the hall continued to tick.

“Know you of anyone Comfraire spent time with, when not pretending to holy duties? Places the priest liked to go when not tending the church? I hear you were among those who escorted the fellow on his daily walks.”

“A duty many of us in the community shared,” Corran replied, tone growing strident. “Do you accuse me of heresy merely for minding an old man on his daily constitutional?”

“No of course not,” Alberic answered. He pulled the correspondence he had found in Comfraire’s hidden desk drawer from his pack. “These letters however do indicate guilt.”

“Well that is another story, isn’t it?” Corran asked, leaning back in his chair. The humble farmer demeanor fell away as he crossed his arms. “Why play along?”

“I wanted to be wrong. You seemed like a decent man with a family you love.”

“I do love them,” Corran replied, voice low and cold. “You’re very unlucky you came this day.”

“She doesn’t know what you really do, does she?”

“And once we’re rid of you, she never will,” Corran said bluntly. “Our war doesn’t concern her.”

“And the children?”

Corran’s grey eyes clouded like thunderstorms, his lips drawn into a snarl. “You’ll never touch them.”

They both leapt, chairs clattering to the ground. Alberic reached for his lance while Corran moved with preternatural speed to the sideboard, pulling a hidden blade he managed to raise in time to block Alberic’s swing.

The house was torn and broken as they fought, Alberic barely able to acknowledge the damage as they threw each other against walls and through furnishings. Corran had an advantage with his shorter blade in the cramped space, but Alberic was a far more practiced fighter. If he could get hold of a sword--or better disarm Corran of his--then the heretic would soon be at his mercy.

He finally saw his moment, spinning his lance to baffle Corran’s blade before using his more heavily armored frame to knock the taller man through a door and into what had to be the master bedroom.

The sword went sliding the opposite way down the hall, and Corran laughed bitterly.

“Give it up, Striker,” Alberic said, pointing his lance. He could see Corran’s waist and legs, but the broken door obscured his head. “Tell me about the coming attack!”

Corran's laugh only continued, growing deeper and more growling. Alberic’s eyes widened as he saw Corran’s body jerk, bones cracking and skin tearing, swelling as scales overtook skin.

He swung to drive his lance down through the man as a roar shook the windows, and through the back wall an aevis tore its way inside, the colorfully bordered window panes shattering across the bedding. The dragon leapt at Alberic, and he swung up, barely blocking the creature’s jaws from clamping onto his still helm-less head as they skid down the hall from the momentum of its impact.

Alberic managed to roll out of the way as the aevis let loose a gout of flame, the fire catching on broken furniture. It came for him again but he had made it to his feet, dashing back toward the kitchen for room to move. The aevis lunged at him as Alberic braced himself, a heel against the base of the sink.

His lance caught the beast’s chest and with a roar of his own from his Inner Dragon surging forth, he used the dragon’s momentum to pierce it deeper, throwing it over his shoulder and halfway through the large window, more bright glass breaking as the thing flailed, screaming flames across the yard as it bled out around the lance through it.

Alberic had no time to retrieve his weapon as Corran came for him, tearing apart the walls to fit his new bulk through them to get to the dragoon. He was larger than most transformations Alberic had seen, a heavy red wyvern, powerful and burning, his eyes filled with the same intelligence they had held as a man.

Alberic swore and dove out of the way of claws longer than his own hands. He managed to duck and roll under and past Corran and back into the hallway, needing the smaller space to disadvantage the dragon. Assuming said dragon didn’t just shoulder the walls out of his way, his fiery head rearing back to blast Alberic.

He barely managed to dodge, the heat unbearable as the walls with their pretty flower paint warped, melted, and crisped in the heat, flames now filling the house. He couldn’t last in here much longer, but also couldn’t let this fight further endanger the rest of the village, the commotion surely drawing attention, though any other knights would be too far away while Corran likely had more allies nearby.

His feet hit more metal that clattered, and he remembered Corran’s sword. As the beast came for him again, Alberic ducked to retrieve it, rolling in low as Corran leaped at him. With another shout, Alberic swung up, sliding along the floor on his knees as Corran passed overhead, the sword slicing down the wyvern’s side.

Corran screeched, landing heavily against the door in a tangle, blood flowing freely, wings and talons unable to get purchase in the too small space.

Alberic breathed heavily as he stood and hurried into the kitchen. The aevis was still jerking through its death throes, making a pathetic, pained cry as he yanked his lance from it, more blood pumping onto the sink and floor.

Alberic returned to the hall. Corran watched him, panting himself, lifesblood pooling around him as smoke filled the air.

“Finish me,” the dragon rumbled, in something resembling Corran’s voice. “But I want a promise first.”

“A promise?” Alberic asked. “Why should I pledge aught to a heretic?”

A weary claw gestured, holding a limp, blood-covered ragdoll. Alberic went cold. “For...them. They’re innocent. But we both know...Inquisitors….”

Alberic coughed as he shivered. They wouldn’t care that the children were only children. They wouldn’t care if Mistress Striker was Thavnairian--if anything, that would make it worse for her, no matter if she truly was unaware of her husband’s sins.

“Maybe...she’ll take them home,” Corran said. “She misses it. They could have…Not this.” His eyes met Alberic’s.

They were the grey eyes of a man.

Alberic nodded. “I promise,” he answered, as he pushed his lance through the wyvern’s heart. “Your family won’t pay for your sins.”

When he opened his smoke-stung eyes again, the dragon was gone, Corran Striker’s lifeless form before him, eyes colorless glass, smiling in relief.

Alberic considered for a moment, then drug Corran’s body toward the heaviest flames devouring the house, throwing him into the fire. With luck it would be so burned as to obscure how he had truly died, if Alberic was to keep his reckless promise.

The aevis in the kitchen was dead finally. Alberic retrieved the correspondence knocked to the floor during the scuffle, and gritting his teeth, threw all but one sheet into the flame as well; there was mention of a tower. If nothing else he could salvage something from this mess.

The heat and smoke were too much now, and people outside were shouting and trying to put out the flames, a woman screaming as she glimpsed the dragon half-hanging from the kitchen.

Alberic stumbled outside, battered and bloodied, and fell unconscious at the feet of the Strikers’ neighbors.

—————

It took only a few eye blinks before Aeryn’s groan echoed Alberic’s from a moment before. X’rhun tried to call to her, but she was on her feet in the next eye blink. She whirled in Alberic’s direction, braid whipping so quickly the end came back around to strike her cheek, unnoticed. Her eyes were a storm, lightning crackling in them.

Alberic did not move. He distantly realized that there was nothing any of the three of them could do to stop her of all people.

She flung herself forward and he took the weight of her body slamming into his, her hands gripping at his coat.

That was all.

Alberic didn’t dare move as she trembled against him, head down. X’rhun and Heustienne watched, breath held. Perhaps they had realized the same thing he had.

"I'd forgotten the windows,” Aeryn said hoarsely. “They were almost new; a Starlight gift from him, for Mama."

Alberic said nothing. What could he say?

“You didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. It took a moment to make sound. “By the time I’d realized who you were, why you were so familiar...Well, we had that mess with Estinien and neither of us were in any shape for more terrible revelations. Not the easiest thing to tell a girl you’re the man that killed her father, regardless of the why. And...If the Inquisition, the Ward, if any of them had found out…”

“I’d have handled them,” she said. Neutral, a matter of fact. She wasn’t one to boast.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I thought...Your mother took you to Thavnair. You would have a life there, away from the war. I never expected you to return. To be...this.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know. And you know I’m a sentimental, craven fool.”

She laughed, a wild, bitter noise, finally looking up. Her eyes locked with his, and he thought for as much as she looked like her mother, her eyes were too much like her father’s.

“X’rhun, can you make sure Heustienne gets back to Anyx Trine?” She said, not breaking her gaze with Alberic. The storm still rumbled in her eyes, but all he could see was old smoke.

“Of course,” the Seeker answered. “Aeryn—”

“I’m going home,” she said, shoving Alberic away. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing. She was stronger than she looked. “I need time to think and rest.”

“You mean Revenant’s Toll, yes?” X’rhun demanded, tail still lashing.

Aeryn only nodded once as she retrieved her pack from next to Heustienne.

“Call me via ‘pearl when you arrive,” X’rhun insisted.

She paused for a moment, then nodded again, shouldering her pack and walking away.

“What the seven hells am I missing?” Heustienne asked after they watched Aeryn’s red coat vanish among the hills. “What did she see? What did you do?”

“Later,” X’rhun said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get back to something resembling civilization first; Avengret’s heretics may still be on the trail.”

Alberic said nothing, simply following along as they made their way across the wilderness.

[shattersstar]

evergreen

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part four)

pairing: adrian tepes x reader

excerpt: You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

warning(s): brief injury mention, fluff, this is so,,hopelessly romantic, heart shape lockets making a reappearance

a/n: sorry ive only been writing for adrian my brain has been in alucard lockdown and it wont end (although this might be my favourite thing ive ever written so i’m..less sorry)

—

It was quiet, the distant din of the forest brushed over the two of you. It was a reminder of the life surrounding the desolate place you called home. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the sound, the breathing of trees and humming of streams. You supposed Adrian heard it all so clearly, the animals and plants alike all alive in the surrounding forest. You strained to hear the crunch of fallen leaves by foxes or snap of fallen branches by deers.

It was autumn and the world was alive with harvest. Animals prepared for winter, plants returned to the soil and tree lines morphed into flame. It was one of the last warm days, the sun high in the cloudy sky, shining onto the picnic you two had set up. You were laying down, letting the sun soak over your while Adrian sat cross legged behind you. Your head was in his lap, the book you were reading was resting on his thigh above your head, opened onto the page you were on. Adrian had brought a book as well, but discarded it after a few minutes of reading. It was out of date, he explained, the science was false and he decided to draw over the useless words instead.

You assumed there was some value in its history, but didn’t question it as he silently sketched. Adrian was always such an artist, often drawing you, or other’s he cared for. He could sketch Sypha and Trevor from memory, yet often butchered some detail of the latter for his own amusement you supposed. He drew his parents often too, but was quick to erase such images, as if even seeing their face was still too painful.

He had begun painting more recently. You liked sitting and working on something while he painted, catching occasionally glimpses at his work. Adrian was never shy about what he created, often showing you without prompting, and never dismissing your request to see his art. He had agreed he was good at it, the technical precision was there, but the heart was not. You were quick to disagree with such sentiment, and yes you could see it within the landscapes and dull memories he created on paper or canvas, but the love was there in the faces of those he cared for.

Each line he added to you, each bit of shading and highlight showcased you in a way that held more adoration than any words could supply. You liked seeing yourself from Adrian’s eyes, seeing your beauty as he perceived it. It was more flattering than anything anyone before him had said to you, not like Adrian would want to hear such things.

You weren’t sure how you knew he was watching, sketching you as you laid in his lap, but you knew he did. You even remained still, forgoing reading to be his muse for the last moments of fall. You didn’t mind getting to lay in the lap of the one you loved, a soft blanket underneath while the sun started to arch towards the west. You could’ve fallen asleep there, nature washing over you and Adrian watching over you. It was a place of peace, a moment you’d engrain into your mind and have a memento—a piece of art to show for it.

You only opened your eyes when Adrian let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh, he didn’t need to breathe, he only did so on his own volition. You peered up at him, sun dancing in his dark lashes. “What is plaguing you so beloved?” You hummed, tilting your head back more as you spoke.

"My chest, it aches.” He admitted with a soft voice. You sat up as his words registered in your ears, worry lacing your features as you moved to sit on your knees, beckoning him closer.

“Still? Why?” He turned his head to the side as your hand smoothed down his slender neck, brushing his collar aside and revealing the tip of the scar that cut diagonal through his torso. You kept your fingers off the injury, but untied the front of his shirt to reveal more of it.

“I am unsure, it just does some days.”

“This has happened before?”

“A few times, yes.” He sighed again, you felt it under your palm that rested next to the pink, raised skin.

“I wished you told me.”

“I did not wish to worry you.”

“And yet I am worried.” Adrian turned towards your other hand, resting on his shoulder and dipped his head down to kiss your wrist. It was a gesture of apology and you accepted it was you let your hand cup his face, lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so.” You frowned, shifting your knees against the blanket. “And somehow I’m not surprised you aren’t pleased with that answer.”

“How can I be pleased when you, my dear, are living in pain?”

“Don’t be pleased then, be appeased.” Adrian shrugged, still speaking into your palm. You let your fingertips graze the edge of his scar before dropping both hands from him.

“If I must.” He chuckled at that, low and warm as your hands found his knees. You gave them a squeeze, almost to check if he still existed before turning, and placing yourself into his lap. You were careful not to lean into his chest, but Adrian eased you against it, his forearm wrapping around your stomach while his other hand brushed your book from his leg. “Now show me what you were drawing.”

“Of course beloved.” He hummed from behind you, picking up his green covered book and letting you flip through the drawings now masking the words. And you were right, many—most were of you.

A few trees, a tired outline of the castle, faces you didn’t know, but still somehow, every few pages was you, lounging in his lap, or from some other memory he stored away. They made you smile, less worried as warmth overtook you.

“Do you ever draw yourself?” You asked once you reached the last sketch, lingering on it.

“No, the image of myself in my mind changes far too often.”

“Oh?” You were surprised by Adrian’s answer, you expected something darker you supposed.

“I see myself one way, and then...I do not. I cannot draw what constantly changes.”

“Why does it change?”

“You.”

One syllable was more breathtaking than a single drawing he had ever done of you.

“Oh.” You found yourself on repeat, closing the book and letting out a slow breath.

“And I supposed other’s I’ve met, but mostly you.” It’s always you, he does not say despite how well it sits in his mouth.

You knew you had impacted Adrian, only a fool would say they didn’t, but to know that the way he constructed himself in his brain, how he felt when he thought of it, how he saw himself in his dreams, how he saw himself with you were all changed by you and how you loved him felt like a deeper proclamation than i love you.

“I still wish you would though, what am I supposed to put in this locket?” Your voice held an air of teasing, but a current of seriousness laced it as well.

“I could try, if you could like.”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t want him to settle on a version of himself to etch into existence. Not when he was ever changing in his mind's eyes. “What if—“ You twisted carefully to look at him, noses brushing as you did. “What if you drew yourself from how I saw you?” You asked, wanting his art to convey his beauty as it did yours.

Adrian pondered it for a moment, before tilting his head and surprising your lips with his. “Yes.” He whispered against your mouth before finding his book yet again.

You slipped from his lap to give him space and studied him for a long moment. He didn’t shift under your gaze, or look away, but instead studied your back. You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

Serious mouth, something that hides smiles and fangs. Lips that slope into something heartbreaking—a smile like no other.

He grinned at that, eyes dropping to the page as he began drawing.

Soft eyes, set deep, but still shining. Sharp like daggers and holding handfuls of sunrays in them. Not cold with sadness, but heavy with it.

“Heavy with love too.” He hummed, earning a kiss on his forehead before you settled back to describing him.

Nose…

You paused your words, letting Adrian catch up to your lovely description, while you pondered on it too. You knew this was much for him, so much love filling his ears, outward and heedy. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, like it captured how much his appearances enraptured you, but as his heart did too. You wanted him to see your love through your eyes.

It was a daunting task, and yet you carried on. You reached out, brushing over his nose with your index finger, as if the words lived in your fingertips and could only be released by touch. You furrowed your brows, lips parting before you took Adrian’s hand, the one holding the book. He kept his gaze on you as you brought his slender fingers to his nose, tracing it as you did. You loved all Adrian’s features, but his nose especially, and no words could describe the beautiful feature that pulled his whole face together.

My favourite thing.

He let his attention fall back to the drawing, a bloodless blush could’ve warmed his face with the kind descriptions you imparted onto him. He knew you loved him, you proclaimed it enough, but the sweet words that overtook this dimming autumn day were even more dizzying than he expected. And you weren’t done yet, unrelenting in your words and adoration for him.

Sharp contours—jaw, cheekbones—with an underlying kindness, youthful softness to the angular curves.

Beautiful forehead, my favourite place to kiss. And press myself to.

Brows low, very precise—too serious most of the time.

Hairline like the ocean, framing the sand and sometimes sweeping over it.

You twirled the forever loose curl that hung forward, always draping against his smooth skin. He wanted to lean into your touch, but his attention was on the page.

Hair long, softer than any silk. Golden—not like honey, but wheat fields blowing in the breeze. And thick, with lazy waves throughout it.

You stayed quiet after that, hoping it was enough. You were all warm throughout now, despite how the evening had fallen over you two. You wanted to climb back into Adrian’s lap, but instead you moved to sit cross legged, toying with a loose thread on his pants, twisting the string from the seam by his knee around your finger until his shoulders dropped and the pen stopped moving.

You let your hands rest in your lap, and you watched him study it for a long moment. You wanted to ask if it was okay—some version of him he could agree with, yet he brought the pen back, scrawling something in his tight, professional handwriting and tearing the page from the book with precision.

The drawing took up one corner, the words printed in the background barely noticeable to the bust drawn over them. He folded the piece of paper, once, then twice. A tiny square sitting in his palm, before Adrian finally met your gaze. He reached out, cool fingertips grazing over your neck as he brought your heart shaped locket to sit in his other palm. He used his thumb to open it, placing the piece of paper inside and closing it again.

He kissed the smooth metal before letting it fall back against your sternum, smiling with a haziness that made you feel drunk of love as well. You took his hand in yours, Adrian quick to intertwine fingers before you could settle your palm to his. He urged you closer, uncrossing his legs and letting you take up space between them. “Do you feel better?” You hummed, the pain that had overcome him before not leaving your mind.

It wasn’t like you to forget so easily.

“Hm, better? Yes.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of your nose.

“Are you just saying that?”

“No, of course not.”

“I find that hard to believe, you often dwell in pain my dear. Especially alone.”

“I know,” He sighed yet again, bringing his free hand to your chin and drawing your attention to him. “If you’d like, I believe I have found a way that you can help, make me feel better.”

“Yes, what is it?”

He smiled—heartbreakingly. “Marry me?”

For a quiet beat, you paused, the words reaching your ears, settling in your short term memory before they processed into something that rang forever in your head. You and Adrian had talked about marriage, he had settled on the notion it was a frivolous display and he had everything he needed with you. And you agreed. He was everything you needed.

And now, he needed to be your husband.

You tucked some of his hair behind his ear, leaning in with a low voice, “My love, don’t you know?” You asked, blinking up with a slanted grin, “I’ve been married to you from the moment we met.” He breathed out a chuckle, reedy and low.

“Then,” His palms cupped your cheeks, forehead pressing into yours. “Let me marry you.”

“Yes,” You breathed into him, “Yes you can marry me.”

-

It was the first day of winter when you finally opened your locket. You unfolded his drawing carefully, the likeness you wanted to convey hung in every inked line. Your fiancé existed in both your hearts now.

Your fingers brushed over the words, creased from the folding, but still clear.

It’s always you, my betrothed.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Asorted ADA x Reader | The "happy" friend

BSD misc. Reader insert

Warnings- mentions of suicidal thoughts. Mentions of Verbal and mild physical abuse.

The happy co-worker, happy friend, happy ex, happy girlfriend. No matter what you pushed it on to yourself. So many of your peers had it worse. Look at Dazai, he manages to smile and joke despite his pain. You thought you could do it too. So, that’s what you did. Since you joined the agency. You never let them see you break down. They never got to see you cry. They never got to see you under anything but happy. Even if you were annoyed, you held onto your smile. There were so many orphans among your mighty crew of detectives. The ones you were the closest to, you confirmed them to be orphans from a young age. Dazai, parentless at 14. He may have been an orphan for even longer than that. You just know he didn’t have any at 14. Then there was Atsushi, who had lived his whole childhood abused in an orphanage. Kyoka, she lost her parents to her ability. The others you were not too sure about, but the sneaking suspicion this organization was full of gifted orphans, was high.

Then there was you. A girl, no older than Dazai. Not the best looking, at least that’s what you told yourself. The others had no idea about your insecurities regarding your body. Maybe you were too tall, too short, too thin, too fat. Some days were better than others. Some days the situation flipped. There was always something you could nit-pick about yourself. Your mind wandered constantly back to the words of your parents. “Not skinny enough, too skinny. Not fit enough, but don’t be too fit. Men don’t like to be threatened.” you had parents. Maybe they weren't the best but you had parents. They were a bit abusive with words but never had they placed a finger on you. Well, there were a few times but it was normal right? For a parent to lose their cool and lash out once or twice, maybe even a handful of times over the years. They judged you for your choice of occupation and the people you hung around. They called you out on outfits and the way you acted. That’s why you were here now. Far from them, but their words still haunted you. In truth, you feared them but wanted their approval.

Today, you stood with your coworkers finishing up the latest job. You hummed in your outfit. It covered your arms, which you already bandaged but wanted to keep that a secret. The things you did to keep this false joy were extreme. The things you took in impacted your state. Listening to Atsushi, holding Kyoka when she broke down. Hell, you were even there to scold Dazai and occasionally listen to his drunk words. The tales of how much he had suffered broke you. Even Kunikida learned to confide in you. He would tell you about his stress, and the pain he felt about past mistakes that resulted in his ideals being missed or broken. There was nobody in the agency who didn’t trust you with their problems. To them, you had none. They were okay with talking to you. They felt better after talking to you. That’s how it worked.

Biting the inside of your cheek, your feet moved to Kunikida. You knew he’d want to talk about this one. He hated seeing people killed before his eyes. He’d already nearly beaten Dazai for letting the boy die. Atsushi was off in the corner, fidgeting around with the tight atmosphere. You had arrived a little too late to prevent the death of the kidnapped child. Things like this happened, mistakes were bound to happen but… they had larger effects on some than they did on others. Dazai was facing the wall, his hands in fists. His head against the wall. You could tell he was blaming himself. Atsushi just felt awkward being here. “Kunikida?” you whispered trying to keep a joyful yet soft tone to your voice. Your hand reached out to tap his shoulder only for him to slap it away with a heavy glare.

“How can you smile like that? Somebody died in front of us and all you do is smile! You're always smiling no matter what happens! Do you even understand what’s going on right now? We failed (Y/n). Do you need somebody to explain to you what you should be doing right now?” his voice kept raising pitch by pitch. It sent flashes along your eyes. The way your father's voice would start soft and gradually get louder by the second, until he slammed a fist against the wall and screamed at you. Those yells always ended in the verbal assault. The comments on your form, the comments on your social life, and the useless degrees and jobs you had.

The wince you suppressed went unnoticed. The shaking of your hands is easily hidden behind you. Hands clasped together as your eyes trailed Kunikida. His body stood towering over you. Heavily glaring as he turned away. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” you tilted your head to play this off with a smile.

It was no help to your situation. He pushed past you, heading for the building exit he froze in the doorway. “We have to go tell a parent we failed to save a child's life. Do you understand how hard that is for a parent? How could I be alright? How can any of us be alright?” he was one step from overfilling your glass. The cracks forming were starting to show. Your eyes unable to meet his eyes. “You can be heartless and an idiot at times. Smiling in the presence of death.” there it was, the same words you had gotten at your grandmother's funeral. You’d tried to stay strong for your mother. You only knew how to smile. You knew no other way of staying strong. Hearing it from a friend sent you into overdrive.

“Shut up.” you hissed through clenched teeth.

This time Atsushi seemed to join in. shocked by your sudden negativity. He had never seen you like this. None of them had ever seen you drop a smile. “Are you mad?” Atsushi asked before you shook it off and smiled.

“Huh? Of course not! I'm just as normal as ever! I don’t know what you mean? Did I seem mad? Sorry, guess I just let that slip. I meant to say you shouldn’t assume I'm heartless, just cause I'm still… happy! I feel the pain you guys feel over this! I just think we should move over this!” giving a closed smile, Kunikida's raised voice washed over the room again.

“Move past?! We could have saved them if we had been a bit faster in getting here! The kid wasn’t supposed to die! Stop smiling and grasp the situation! Stop being insensitive to your acting just like Dazai does sometimes!” Were you that bad? Was it really that bad to just want to stay happy? “You have everything perfect, you can’t even grasp the situation!” you couldn’t do this anymore. His words were starting to turn from accusations to frustration. He was taking his pain out on you. Instead of doing it in the kind form he normally used, he was using anger to express how hurt he was right now.

Unable to take any more of the words he spat, you dropped it all. His words were getting on the triggering side. The words he spat slowly started to inch closer and closer to your parents' words. Words that made you have to act like this. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered trying to keep your tears locked inside. It was useless though. The container shattered as his words brushed by your ears. Faded and fuzzy, the world drifted away. You were pulled back into the world by a brunette. His slender hands shaking your shoulders. You shoved him away glaring.

“Woah, she’s pissed,” Atsushi whispered before you shook your head looking at the ceiling, you smiled.

“No Atsushi, I'm sad, for lack of a better word. I want to walk up the stairs of a very tall building and dive into nothingness. I want to lay down with a bottle of whiskey and drink myself into sweet relief. I want to look in the mirror and like the way I look. I want to walk to my parents with the courage to tell them I'm perfect no matter what I look like. I want to tell them that what I do for a living makes me strong. I want to have the strength to shout and tell them I don't need a man to dictate my life. I want to scream at them that the only man I want is a man who isn’t afraid of a fierce, strong, and independent woman.” the words fell from your lips as your tears fell. They fell through your smile. The happy look stuck to your face.

“(y/n)...” Kunikida started before you chuckled, closing his sentence off.

“Aren't I just perfect? I hate my body, I hate my personality. I hate everything about myself. I hate my gift, nobody would like the real me. Nobody knows the real me. Hell, I don't even know the real me. I am nothing without my smile. But… it's okay as long as I can keep smiling! I can just fake it until it's real. I fooled all of you, didn’t I? I really seemed happy! Even I was starting to think I was! But then, I get home, look in the mirror, and all I can see is a useless shell.” your voice stopped before you were wrapped in bandaged arms. Those arms ran over your back to pull at your arms. Concerned hazel brushing skilled tender fingers under the cloth of your sleeves. Those fingers dancing over the white cloth. His hair falling over his now darkened eyes.

“You too…” he whispered just as you yanked away your arms and held them, still keeping a smile.

Of course, he had to lift your spirits just a bit. So, as you looked away unable to meet his gaze, he got to one knee and pulled your hand to him with a smirk. Kunikida facepalmed realizing the words the brunette would spout next. “Dazai, this was a crime scene. Are you seriously going to… I'm going to kill you!” he shouted stomping over to you two.

Dazai’s eyes met yours as he put his playful smile on. “Would you commit a double suicide with me~?” he hummed before being shoved into a wall. “Kunikidaaaaa! Why would you do something so cruel?!” he dramatically put a hand over his chest and his other hand on his forehead. Kunikida clicked his tongue, turning to you. His eyes reflected only guilt, as if your outburst had been all his fault. Even if you had been dying to talk to somebody about the crumbling emotions for months.

“I’ll think about it, Dazai-san!” you playfully responded to his request. For a moment you truly did feel a flutter of joy.

“I swear if you start doing his habits, I will add to your paperwork!” the worst kind of threat. A threat that made both you and Dazai cringe but chuckle.

“We should get going.” you hummed looking up to the ceiling again. “We do have a family to comfort.” Everybody fell serious and nodded.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 3: it will not be at all or any better

CW: kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, descriptions of bullying, child abuse, and toxic relationship

as a disclaimer (and acknowledgement), some of the dialogue is from what I remember of the book, and some of it is based on takes i've seen on tumblr that I agreed with!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 | Masterlist

Thomas never made it to the Devil Tavern that night. His throat burned when he woke, a mixture of dehydration and whatever drug had been used to incapacitate him.

“There you are,” a familiar voice drawled. “Finally. I was worried I’d perhaps gotten the dosage incorrect and killed you.”

Alastair. “You were worried about me?”

“Ha, I suppose not. Would have been a lot more work if you’d died, though. Belial surely wouldn’t’ve been happy if I killed you before he got his hands on you.” He approached Thomas with a glass of water. “Drink,” he ordered.

Thomas wanted to refuse, but he was so thirsty that he could not stop to worry about whatever Alastair may have snuck into the drink. When Alastair finally took the glass away, he attempted to regain his composure. “What do you want from me?”

Alastair shrugged. “I’m sure Belial has his uses for you. Until then… I am to get as much information from you as I can.” He picked up a knife from a table and spun it around with a flourish. “Whilst leaving you in one piece.”

“Why are you doing this?” He hadn’t entirely intended to ask the question out loud, but it hung in the air anyways.

Alastair rolled his eyes. “What, you expect me to hold some sort of loyalty to you? What’ve you ever done to earn it? You truly expect the world to be handed to you, still? You despise me, Thomas. You send me rude letters and threaten me at large gatherings. Give me one reason why I should ever choose your side instead of Belial’s.”

A wave of guilt crashed over Thomas. He knew he’d made mistakes. He was simply angry. He was never trying to hurt Alastair. Thomas wondered whether he would have treated him differently if he’d known what he was hiding. “Cordelia. What about your sister?”

He shook his head. “Before, I had all of these ideas about what I owed her and the world and what I deserved myself. I felt it sensible to give all of myself to others, to give endless compassion and protection and patience to the people I cared about and accept when they gave me nothing in return. Belial helped me to see clearly.”

“What did he do to you?”

Alastair flung the knife, it soaring right past Thomas’ head. He braced himself but never felt an impact. The blade splinted the wood behind him. “Belial made me strong,” Alastair said coolly. Thomas could tell his outburst was not out of anger; he was making a play at intimidation. Thomas would not show him just how terrified he truly was.

“You were already strong.” Thomas’ heart ached for the boy beneath this creature that Belial had created. Though that wasn’t entirely true, was it? It had not just been Belial, it had been Elias, it had been every cut and lash that had led Alastair to the bridge that night. Perhaps some inflicted by Thomas himself.

“I was weak. Love is weakness. Perhaps it is not for everyone, but in my family? In my family, the cost of love is hopelessness. All of us are destined to love those who will never truly care for us.” Thomas thought of Cordelia. Did he know the marriage had been false?

“What did you think I couldn’t see how deeply my sister felt for James? How he disregarded her over and over again for Grace Blackthorn? I understand now that the situation was more complex, but my sister did not marry him thinking that he did not love her back because of a bracelet, she believed he did not love her at all. Such seems to be our curse. So when Belial came to me, when he offered me our deal, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to not care, too?”

“Love makes us human, Alastair.”

“Good thing, then, that you and your friends already thought me a heartless monster.”

Thomas bit at the inside of his cheek. It was true. He’d spent months, years convincing himself that Alastair was cruel and uncaring. He wanted desperately to know how he could have confused hurting for heartlessness. A thought creeped into his mind, one that had been pestering him ever since he learned of Cordelia’s letter. Had Thomas been one of those people? One of the ones Alastair gave himself to and received nothing in return? He studied his expression, but could read nothing. “It was you, wasn’t it? The person who was following me when I went out at night? You- You were protecting me.”

Alastair didn’t waver. “Perhaps I was.”

“But… why?” He was correct, Thomas had treated him more than poorly the past few months. Why would he risk his life to protect him? Why would he do it all in secret, not even leaving behind a trace of his true intentions in his letter to his sister? In fact, he was fairly certain that if Alastair had been killed, if it were not immediately apparent that he had been following Thomas, he would have assumed that Alastair had some completely separate business that he was taking care of, and they merely happened to be in similar places at the same time. Why would he do that? Perhaps he did not want to risk exposing what Thomas was doing? Or… perhaps he wanted to save him from the guilt?

Alastair approached him non-threateningly, but he could not forget the dagger in his hand. “Because you have shown me kindness in the past, and there are not many people in this world who have done so. I thought it would be most unfortunate for you to die alone, recklessly trying to repair your guilt over not saving your sister.”

“I- I wasn’t- I was just trying to find the killer. So that no one else would get hurt. I had to go alone; going in pairs or groups… it’s too obvious. He would hear you coming.”

“Is that what you told your friends?”

Admittedly, his friends hadn’t asked very many questions about his whereabouts and his actions, so he hadn’t explained it to them. He didn’t answer.

“There may be an element of truth to that, but you and I both know that’s not the whole of it. You couldn’t save your sister. The killer may not have been responsible for her death, but it didn’t matter. Evil is evil, whatever form it takes. You went alone because you knew the risk you were taking, you knew the danger you were putting yourself in, and you didn’t want anyone going down with you.”

“How- How do you know that?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not the only one who can be observant, Thomas.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“Just another piece of evidence, proving human weakness. You were never going to save Barbara. You’re guilty over nothing. You risked your life for nothing.”

Thomas felt his anger rising again. “That’s not- If we had-”

“Did you think it was a coincidence that her and Oliver both got so much sicker so much faster than the others? That they were simply unlucky? There was nothing unintentional about her death. Oliver was unlucky, certainly. Unlucky to have loved her, perhaps. But your sister was dead the moment Belial marked her.”

“The welcome ball,” Thomas realized. “But why?”

“Tatiana,” Alastair answered without hesitation. “She has quite the grudge against your father. You’re the icing on the cake, of course. When your family learns of your death, when your father finally realizes why… The guilt will consume him. He will never forgive himself. Tatiana will finally have her revenge.”

“You- you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, no, but only time will tell what Belial plans on doing with you.”

Thomas could find no words, only stare at him in fear and shock. That was what he wanted wasn’t it? Alastair placed his fingers against his cheek, and he flinched away. After a long pause, Alastair sighed. “Do you want to know what my favorite memory from Paris was?”

“No.”

“It was you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that? I would never tell you lies, Thomas.”

Thomas swallowed hard. Alastair’s voice was soft, filled with longing. It’s not real, he told himself. “All you have done is tell me lies! From the very beginning. I know you were in Paris with Charles Fairchild, anyways. I’ve seen the ways you look at each other. When we were together, your eyes lit up every time you mentioned him.”

Alastair hesitated for the briefest moment at the mention of Charles. Thomas cursed himself for still feeling the slightest pang of jealousy. “Pathetic, isn’t it? But no. My favorite memory,” his voice softened again, a sickly sweet melody in Thomas’ ears, “was taking you to see that film. I’d fallen in love with moving pictures during my stay in Paris. I’d fretted all night over it, worried that you would find it silly, or worse, you would mock me for it. But I wanted so desperately for someone to share it with. Charles never had an appreciation for art, not that he would have ever dared to go somewhere that public with me anyways. Afterwards, looking into your eyes, I thought… in another life... in another life, I could have been here with him.”

Thomas hated how his heart ached in his chest. He hated Alastair, even before this whole deal with Belial. That’s what he told himself, anyways. In another life… These are lies. He’s using you. “No chance we could go now then? I hear it’s beautiful during the holidays.”

Alastair smirked. He ran the cool blade lightly against the skin of Thomas’ throat. “Don’t you feel guilty, Thomas? You couldn’t have saved your sister, but you could have saved me.”

He hoped Alastair could not feel how hard his heart was beating. “No- no, that’s not true. There’s no saving someone like you.” He knew they were lies.

“No, not someone like me. Someone like him.” Alastair leaned forward so that Thomas could feel the breath on his neck as Alastair hissed, “He loved you. He would have died for you, in secret, even knowing how openly you disdained him. You gave him hope last summer. You helped him realize he deserved more than a lover who lied every time he claimed to love him, who never cared for him more than a Clave meeting and always left before the sun rose.” He frowned. “You could have saved him, if you wanted to. But you didn’t think he was worth it.”

“I- That’s not- I-” Thomas tugged at his bindings, suddenly filled with rage. “Shut up! I hate you! You now and you before! You’re cruel and callous! You never cared for anyone but yourself! Why were you even so mean to us at school? We never gave you any reason for it! Your family is friends with the Herondales; you could have at least been kinder to James.”

Alastair looked away wistfully. Thomas loathed it, how easily he replicated emotions. He felt none of them. “If you wanted an apology, Thomas, you should have asked for it two weeks ago.”

“Just explain it to me. You wish for me to feel something for the person you once were? Explain it.”

“When I arrived at school, talk about my family preceded me. The rumors about my father’s drinking, the speculation about why we moved so much. The fact that my family couldn’t afford tutors for us. I looked different than them; talked different than them. Shadowhunters like to pretend that such prejudices don’t touch them, but it’s only to make themselves feel better. I had no friends; I knew no one when I arrived. Who better to beat up than the Persian boy whose father would never show up when he was injured?”

“So you were jealous, that day after the prank. I thought you might-”

“No. I wasn’t jealous. I was angry. I was put in the infirmary for two weeks, I nearly died, would have were I a mundane, and all my father did was lecture me when I came home for the holidays about how I needed to be more careful and how much of a burden I was to him. You, James, your friends, you had everything. You had pretty homes with nice parents, parents who loved you, who cared for you. You arrived at the Academy expecting the world to embrace you, as it never had me.”

“So, what? You needed to even the scores?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are no scores, and if there were, I would never be able to even them. It had to be someone. It was the only way to keep them from hurting me. I had nothing, no one, but I had my tongue, and when I cut some poor student down to size, the other boys were so amused that they forgot about ever hurting me. I never hit anyone, never got my hands dirty, but it didn’t matter, did it? I was one of them. It had to be someone, so I chose you. I chose James.” He paused. “So, what about now?”

“What?” Thomas’ throat ached from holding back tears.

“Do you think I could have been saved?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was just above a whisper, more of an echo. It was the truth. He understood what Alastair was telling him. The decision he’d come to was not a rash, impulsive decision. It was one that was built up over many, many years. And with that was the knowledge that time after time, year after year, someone, anyone, could have helped, could have saved him, like Thomas’ own father had been saved when breaking free of his father, but no one did. No one noticed, and the ones that did didn’t care. “You deserved better.” A still silence fell on them. “You’re stalling.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re meant to torture me, but you can’t do it. You never physically hurt anyone at school, and you can’t now. Maybe it’s morals, maybe your mind is still caught in your past, maybe some part of you still cares for me. It doesn’t matter; you can’t do it.”

“That’s quite the gamble.”

It was. There was no telling whether his speculation was correct or whether Alastair was about to place him on a skewer. He was simply trusting his intuition. “Prove me wrong. Hurt me or let me go.”

Alastair moved closer to him, essentially on top of him, but Thomas kept his eyes locked with his, not showing a flicker of fear. When Alastair’s arms dug in, however, he felt no stab of pain. His wrists came free. He watched as he slashed the binds at his ankles. Alastair kept his eyes on him as he left, his expression never swaying. I’ll free you next, Thomas thought.

* * *

"You let the Lightwood go?"

"He esc-"

"Don't lie to me! What, do you think you're special now? Do you fancy yourself human? Redeemable? You think yourself better, more moral, than I? You would betray me for them? You are exactly what I make you. If you wish to be sentimental so badly, you need only ask." With that Belial disappeared. The doors to the room slammed shut and Alastair nearly stumbled to ground. It felt like he couldn't breathe. It felt like- It felt like heartache.

He ran first to the doors, but he knew they wouldn't budge. There were no windows to this room and only one vent that would not move no matter how hard he tried to pry it open.

He gasped for breath, knowing there was no escape. Belial would not let him go free. Not after Thomas. He’d had a lapse in judgement, and he would not make the same one again. Alastair was trapped here, alone. Alone with nothing but the feeling of the world crumbling around him, of his guilt crushing his chest. Finally, he was all the things other people believed him to be: evil and heartless and cruel. Finally, he was all the things his father and Charles had called him: pathetic and weak and useless. Finally, he was the monster he’d always feared becoming.

There was no redemption for him, not anymore. Not after Belial. Not after betraying Cordelia. Not after kidnapping Thomas.

He looked to his blades laid out on the table. He could not leave the warehouse physically, but… He lifted one, and it felt oddly heavy in his hands. His grasp shook and he sunk to his knees. He gripped it tighter and he realized that Belial would never let him.

He had not let him die the first time, and he would not now. Belial wanted this, he wanted him to give up. It made him much easier to control. Belial wanted him to have no motivations, no loyalties, no reason to betray him. If he wanted him dead, he would be dead. Belial still had uses for him, and the only thing Alastair knew was that he could not let him win.

thanks for reading! we're almost done actually! taglist (lmk to be +/-): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @vampireeugenia-deactivated20210

Part 4

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

Member: *at the point of writing this i haven’t yet decided but i went out today and this song started playing and my heart just starting beATInG SO faST

*update: ended up settling for san

A/N: I won’t write smut/anything aggressive for jongho (or any ‘00 liner for that matter) so until they turn 21 internationally, i’ll refrain from writing anything nasty. this goes for other idols who are ‘00 liners and younger.

Genre: shitty-ass angst, aggressive shoving lol idk, what’s a desire-inspired fic if there’s no smut heh (lowkey fifty shades vibes irdk what im doing at this point of time) *kind reminder that it’s been too fucking long since i’ve written some smexy smut so please bear with me ;_;

Word Count: 3.6k

you could almost smell the money that everybody in the room collectively have under their belts. everybody was fitted in suits and extravagant gowns and blazers and dresses-- it was difficult to believe that these people would ever wear anything else besides whatever they were wearing now.

your parents had gone off to greet the older, more important people of the organisation, or bureau, or whatever group that coordinated this event was called. you were stuck staring at your glass of champagne while your fiance picks at the little nuts in the tray that was sitting in the middle of the small table. 

fiance, more like annoying family friend you’ve been actual friends with for nearly ten years. 

“do me a favour and cut it out, would you?” you glare at him through your long, false lashes, bringing the champagne glass to your lips and taking a sip. mingi looks at you and pouts, quickly throwing a nut into his mouth before he wipes the crumbs away on his shit-expensive Saint Laurent blazer. 

you groan under your breath, rolling your eyes so hard that you could see the insides of your head. 

“who picked out the gown? i know you have a thing against gowns so why’d you let them fit you in this one?” mingi munches on the nut and nods towards your fit. you don’t bother to look down at yourself, because you couldn’t stand the sight of it. 

the v-neck cutting was so low down your chest that if you pulled it aside with any considerable amount of strength, your chest would’ve been exposed. 

it didn’t help that the gown was red, and on top of that, there was a long, ridiculous slit up the dress by your left leg. 

it’s like you were a walking target. 

“does it look like i had much of a choice?” you eye him with an annoyed look, finishing whatever was left of the champagne. “in fact, i don’t even remember the last time i made a decision for myself. fun.”

mingi gives you a pathetic smile and wraps his arm around your shoulders, the soft material of his blazer grazing against your skin. 

someone pushes the door open to the function room, and everybody around starts making their way in. your heels would’ve been caught stepping on your gown, so mingi offers you and arm to hold while you grab a bunch of material with your free hand to make walking easier.

your fiance helps you settle into your seat before sitting down next to you. the function room starts filling up, every now and then some ceo or businessman or someone walks by your table and you have no choice but to stand up to greet them. 

but all you wanted to do was to go home to the comfort of your bed and binge watch your favourite series.

not stand here, in the middle of a function room in the country’s most expensive hotel, and let these middle-aged, possibly married-with-children, men caress your hands like they didn’t already know you had a fiance. 

“you seem to have a way around men, don’t you?” mingi teases quietly, helping you push the chair in as you sat down from shaking some stranger’s hand. 

“it’s the dress, and the hair and the make up. otherwise, i’m pretty sure they don’t give a fuck.” 

mingi sucks on his teeth at your straightforward statement, noting that your parents were coming round the table. you look up to search for them upon mingi’s announcement, and you notice they were talking to another couple with their children trailing closely behind them. 

“oh god, another one--” you spit under your breath. mingi elbows you a little, standing up and cuing you to do the same as your parents come by with the other couple and their clearly-uninterested son and overly-enthusiastic daughter.  

“mingi, y/n, this is mr and mrs choi, and this is choi haneul and choi san,” your mother gestures to them as the couple reaches out for a handshake. you and mingi take turns to shake their hands, including the two children. 

you were so used to faking a smile that you were sure nobody could’ve been able to tell you absolutely hated being here. 

but your ‘service’ smile struggles to remain loyal to your need to be the perfect chaebol when you catch their son staring at you, with eyes that could kill. 

you reach your palm out to him, and he takes your hand with a firm grip. 

you almost feel something similar to static, but you shake it off by giving him a bright smile.

he reciprocates, offering you a wide grin that exposes his dimples and folded his eyes into long, slits. 

that 180 degree switch... psycho.

you pull away, and you feel his reluctance to let go for a split second. 

a frown appears on your forehead in that instant, but he releases your hand quickly, as if noticing the change of expression on your face. 

your parents wave them off as they make their way to another table. you return to your seat, now sitting between mingi and your mother who just wouldn’t shut up about the choi family.

something about splitting the company into two so each their children gets an equal half. 

something about them being very capable. 

blah blah blah...

the function hall gets filled up and every table was fully occupied. name tags were placed on tables by the seats the guests were allocated, and your eyes run through the many names and titles. you couldn’t find a single one that didn’t have a big company name attached to them. 

mingi humors you the entire dinner, and being your only source of entertainment, you couldn’t help but still feel lucky that he was chosen to be your fiance.

there were so many things about being a chaebol that was so wrong and so pathetic, and mingi knew very well how much you hated it. both of you grew up as childhood friends, for the sole reason that both your parents were partners in an important project. 

so big, rich people gatherings? your weekend plans for almost ten years straight.

when you were told that a marriage was in plan for you though, you remember threatening to run away from home unless your fiance was mingi.

and since mingi was a chaebol himself, your parents were more than happy to let the both of you get engaged, even if the two of you didn’t actually love one another. 

there was some dumb auction going on with the mc yelling into the damn mic every ten minutes, not even giving you the peace of day to eat your food that took forever to come. mingi tries to get you involved by raising your name tag, helping you offer three million for a premium yacht.

you hiss at him, nearly giving him a slap across the face when you won it.

your mother reminds you not to have too much wine and champagne, but you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. you were going to get married into the song family anyway, so it gave you the courage and liberty to do whatever the hell you wanted. 

you were so used to drinking champagne and wine that mingi doesn’t stop you until your face finally flushed bright red, and you were beginning to smile and giggle at the mc. 

an unfamiliar sight for your fiance. 

“do you need to go to the washroom to get yourself together? you look tipsy,” mingi leans into your ear and asks with concern. his question pulls out an ugly look on your face, and you reach for your champagne glass, only to realise that it was empty. 

you huff in disappointment. mingi gives you a blank look, knowing that you weren’t done with whatever attitude you had up your sleeve tonight. 

“i’m gonna hurl out all that fucking champagne and you better have my glass refilled when i get back,” you try to whisper to mingi, but you belch out all the gas that was in your stomach. 

“disgusting--” mingi winces at the scent of the alcohol. you laugh, pushing yourself out of the seat and grabbing your purse, leaning over to your parents to inform them you were heading for the washroom. 

it was a good thing you weren’t drunk, but you definitely would be if you had returned for more champagne had you not stuffed your finger down your throat. you wretched loudly, knowing that you deliberately searched for the most out-of-the-way washroom in the building, and there was nobody around to hear those inhumane noises. expensive liquid flushes out your throat and you choke on the sight. the burning sensation wasn’t a good experience, but you couldn’t be any less bothered.

you lick your lips, still cautious that you had lipstick on. turning around, you struggle to your feet and head over to the sink, head hanging low and palms pressed flat against the marble surface. 

you gather the tap water in your hand, slurping it up to try and get rid of the taste of stomach acid and alcohol in your mouth. 

didn’t help. 

you mutter some curse words under your breath, looking back up at the mirror to fix your hair and your lipstick, pulling your shoulders back so you were standing with the posture your mother spent most of your life scolding you about. 

you take a step out of the washroom, and your eyes were so occupied with mentally berating the hell out of your obscene dress that you physically ram yourself into someone’s shoulder. 

the impact throws your balance off completely, but you feel an arm snake around your waist just moments before you got fall flat on the ground. 

“oh, you.”

you fidget with uneasiness, anxiously getting your balance back in check and shoving him off you. you look down at yourself, making sure your boobs were still under the material and your slit didn’t get any higher up your thighs. 

“you’re welcome, by the way.”

you return your attention to choi san, who now had a sneaky smirk drawn across his lips. he was in an all white fit, with small black details like his cuff links and black gemstone accentuating his entire look. 

“sorry.”

you clear your throat, feeling your face flush from the realisation that you could’ve been completely fucked over by your parents if they saw the way you responded. 

‘that’s no way of thanking someone,” they’d say. 

“what are you doing here anyway? it’s such a far walk from the function hall.”

you raise a cocky brow, tongue looking for small bits of food stuck in the crevices of your teeth. you couldn’t be bothered to maintain your image now that you’ve already acted like he was molesting you. 

“me? i could ask you the same,” you tilt your head to the side, hands looking for the slit of your dress to push aside. you wouldn’t want to trip on your walk away from him. 

“i don’t like these functions. i like meeting people but i definitely don’t like watching them spend their money on ridiculous items.”

you sigh, wondering how long you were going to be stuck in this meaningless conversation with him. 

“you do realise the proceeds all go to charity anyway, don’t you?” 

“is that why you bought the premium yacht for three million?”

“no, my fiance used my name.”

“so you’re saying you didn’t want to provide the financial assistance to charity?”

your eyes harden at his accusation, and you couldn’t be more frustrated. if you weren’t in your obscene v-neck gown with that useless slit up your thighs, you would’ve already gotten your heels off to whack him on the head. 

all your emotions must’ve been put up for display all across your face, because choi san flashes you a devilish grin, eradicating any hint of his dimple-smile from before. 

the same 180 change.

“my family and i do enough charity every year. this three million doesn’t mean shit,” you take a step forward, not letting his demonic presence faze you. he was just about a few inches taller than you, so confronting him like this was nothing compared to mingi.

“so, mr choi,” you hiss under your breath, your nose just right under his. “if you’ve got nothing else constructive to say, then do excuse me. i have an event to be at.”

you gave it a few moments for him to flinch or react, but he fails. you smirk to yourself, convinced that you’ve won this showdown. you turn, ready to walk away from him, but he grabs your arm just as you walk past him and wraps his arm around your waist. if he had invested more effort into the act, he would’ve easily picked you up.

“what the fuck-- let me go!” you try thrashing yourself out of his grip, but he only pulls you harder into the hidden lift around the corner. you try to make a run for the door before it closes, but he holds you back as he hits a button on the lift panel.

he shoves you up against the wall, your rear resting against the bar that lined the walls where people could hold. he rests his palms on the bar on either sides of your hips, and he pushes his face dangerously close to yours. 

you were fuming at this psycho, but deep down in your heart, you knew you were the one to blame for inciting it. 

“you know...” he drags a finger down your earlobe and your jawline. it takes you awhile to realise that you were slowly turning away from him, gradually becoming unable to continue this power play with him. “you haven’t said ‘thank you’.”

you scoff, eyes shifting to meet his without turning your head. you wipe your canine teeth with your tongue, trying your best to read his face. 

but all you could see was that devilish grin you don’t think you were ever going to forget. 

you try to hold back from saying anything, knowing that every word you said from this moment on was going to decide his next move. but you were angry with this piece of shit, and your temper invites you to spit out the words you had on the tip of your tongue. 

“or what?”

i should not have said that. 

“that’s completely up to you.”

choi san smirks again, and you’ve never seen someone look so lustfully challenged before. the look in his eyes was enough to rile you up to it as well. though your head was screaming at you, telling you to stop, but your heart and body say otherwise. 

he sucks in a deep breath as he takes a step back, letting the lift doors open to the hallway where all the suites were. 

you expected him to grab your wrist and pull you along, but he doesn’t. confusion wasn’t the right word to describe the overwhelming feeling that ate you up, and you hated yourself for it. 

you watch in dissatisfaction as he calmly walks out of the lift and walks down about four doors. he stops right outside the cream colored door, his white fit contrasting the brown hallways, and turns to look at you.

that devilish smile was gone, replaced with a look you couldn’t begin to describe. 

you feel your stomach churn as he reaches up to his neck and starts to undo the top few buttons, exposing his collarbone. his free hand pulls out a card from the inside of his blazer, and he gets the door open. 

your hands were balled up into fists, and you could still feel his trace on your jaw as you watched him walk into the room. 

don’t do it.

you suck in a deep breath, frozen in place. 

don’t fucking do it. he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

the lift doors begin to shut. 

don’t. do. it. 

your needs and desires engulf you like flames in a burning building, and you found yourself storming straight into the suite, eyes only searching for him. before you could even notice the size of the room, you were shoved backwards against the carpeted wall.

hands were hungrily searching your body for any crevice for him to dig into, and you could already feel your lipstick getting smudged between both your lips. 

his fingers find the material of your dress that goes over your shoulders instead, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull them down your arms. you struggle to get his white blazer off, completely ignoring the rare gem that was pinned above his breast pocket. 

you were already running out of breath, teeth clashing and your tongues messily swirling around each other as his hands find the zip on your back. by the time your dress pools around your feet, you get the buttons on his shirt undone. 

you run your hands down his chest and toned stomach, but was interrupted by him picking you up against the wall. he doesn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your breasts like a hungry kitten, and the heat between the two of you becomes nearly impossible to contain.

his hair gets tangled in your fingers, desperately trying to find something to grip while lewd sounds escape your lips.

“you must not like losing,” he pulls you away from the wall, eyes looking up at you as he walks elsewhere in the room. you expected yourself to be thrown on a bed, but instead you find yourself pressed up against the window panel of the room, with the city right below your feet. 

“don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten with a low voice. but you hear him scoff, arm wrapped around your waist as he positions himself so that you were pressed flat against his chest and your breasts against the cold surface of the window. 

“but i already did.”

he whispers into your ear, somehow finding both your wrists and holding them in one hand while the other snakes down your stomach and under the only piece of clothing you were wearing. 

you bite on your bottom lip, shutting your eyes tightly upon the contact of his fingers on your sensitive spot. you hear him chuckle and he realises that you had absolutely no control over what your body needed - or wanted.

“aren’t you going to tell me that you have a fiance?” his voice was low, and almost threatening. he hooks your underwear by the side and pulls it off the curve of your rear, letting it pool around the heels you were still wearing. 

you gulp and huff heavily, listening to him undo his belt while your wrists were still trapped in his left hand. 

“answer the question, mrs song.” he presses his already hardened manhood against your core, and the contact sends chills up your spine to your head. you could feel yourself slowly losing all sense of control by the second, and him psychologically pushing you into a corner to make you submit to him wasn’t helping. 

“we could always stop now, and you could go back to the function hall like nothing happened.”

now you don’t feel the material of his underwear, but the bare skin of his manhood rubbing against your naked core. the sensation finally pushes you over the edge, and you choose your desires over the fucking obligations you were born with.

“please don’t stop.”

you brace yourself as he pushes himself into you, and he doesn’t give you much time to process the explosive feelings of need in your abdomen. picking up his pace, you feel his grip on your wrists tightening as the excessive thrusting pushes you nearer and nearer against the glass.

you hear nothing but the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the combination of the mewls and groans the both of you were offering one another. 

his free hand finds your sensitive nub, and the combination of his ramming into you with the circles drawn with pressure pushes you closer to your climax. your legs tremble under the overwhelming feeling, and he finally releases your wrists. he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you up while he continues fucking you against the window. 

you feel the weight in your abdomen get heavier after every thrust, and your irregular moans tell him that you were reaching your high. 

something inside you snaps, and you raise your head to look at the window, water vapour already collected in messy patterns on the surface. 

he pulls out and you feel his load landing on your lower back, the only sounds you could hear now was the panting from the both of you. 

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

you take your seat between mingi and your mother again, legs still shaking ever so slightly, and you were hoping nobody was going to notice that your hair didn’t look at neat as it was before.

“i thought you got lost in the bathroom,” mingi looks at you while you down a whole cup of water before attacking the champagne. 

“well,” you shrug, eyes catching a glance of choi san returning to his seat. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

[flightfoot]

Hi! I was wondering, what are your favorite ML episodes? Like which do you think are best in plot/character development/fun stuff in general?

I’m gonna just cut out the season finales and the special from this, since it feels like cheating to include them.

This isn’t an objective list, but it’s not fully subjective either. It’s very much a list where the lower sections at least would change based on my mood at the time, though the top two are set in stone.

10. Feast 

I appreciated finding out Fu’s backstory (even if it didn’t quite jive with some of the earlier implications of him having chosen the wrong people before, back in Origins.) It fleshed Fu out as a character, and revealed that while he’s trying as best he can, he wasn’t chosen because he was some all-knowing, all-wise person who’s always right that the main characters need to listen to; even HE admits that he messed up in this episode. He’s considered a person, not some fount of incontrovertible wisdom.

I’ll still take him to task for some of his poorer decisions, but I appreciate that he WASN’T treated as infallible, and that we really get to see that play out here.

Plus Biker Bug and Banana Noir, Banana Noir automatically recognizing his buginette immediately even though she looks different, Chat’s face when he figures out Ladybug’s plan... it’s just fun.

Also I’m a sucker for lore, and we found out a decent amount of it here.

9. Zombizou

This was a really fun episode, with the party slowly dwindling down as zombies picked everyone off, one-by-one. 

It showcased some of the characters really well. Like with Chloe, it showed how she’ll lash out, be a brat and try to hurt people when she feels like she hasn’t done enough, or whenever something pokes at her own feelings of inferiority, of uselessness. But that she also DOES care for other people and is willing to sacrifice herself, even if only temporarily, to protect others.

It also showed the first time that someone puts up a good fight against akumatization, what sort of mindset is needed for that.

The class as a whole really shown this episode. Even though they were all pissed off at Chloe (for VERY good reason) and she was being a pain throughout it, they still refused to leave her at Zombizou’s mercy, protecting her even though it was hard, even though they didn’t want to, even though it put them at risk. Protecting her not because she “deserved” it, but because it was the right thing to do - not that they weren’t TEMPTED to leave her, they’re only human. 

Some great couple moments as well, with Rose and Juleka turning together, and who can forget Nino refusing to leave Alya, even though he’s dooming himself to becoming a zombie as well?

Just all and all, a great episode.

8. Miraculer

Another great character development episode, again, mostly for Chloe. She even successfully fights off an akuma, the only character to do so to date. We also get to see what an effective fighter she is, how much she looks up to and respects Ladybug, wants her to see her as being necessary - probably because of how she’s felt so useless and unwanted before, like she said in Malediktator.

But it also shows how self-centered she is. How little she cares for those who get hurt along the way, like Sabrina. How little she considers more overarching reasons for why she can’t be allowed what she wants, even when demonstrated right in front of her, with being denied the Bee because Mayura and Hawkmoth could easily steal it from her. Even when it’s nothing to do with her personally (beyond her decision to reveal her identity that is) she just can’t let it go.

We also get to Alya and Nino being AWESOME (seriously what WAS that parkour?) and just how stubbornly Adrien will keep trekking on, keep fighting, even when he can barely move because of the pain.

7. Syren

Yes, seriously.

This one.

The one that’s had to be defended to death.

It was actually the second episode of Miraculous Ladybug I watched, and the one that convinced me that the first one’s greatness wasn’t a fluke.

And the reason why I love it is also the reason a lot of people hate it.

We get to see Adrien be angry, frustrated, feel useless. See how the secrets are impacting him, how being left out of the loop and not even getting to know why HURTS. And how if he feels unnecessary, unwanted, that his presence, his fighting doesn’t help protect Ladybug or the city more generally, and also like he’s not being respected, that he’d be willing to give it up. That there’s only so much he can take. 

(And no I don’t feel like debating this, I’ve already done that MANY MANY TIMES. Give it a rest.)

6. Sapotis

Alya and Marinette hanging out and having fun? Marinette getting to choose Alya as the first temporary wielder? Her infectious joy as she runs around Paris and banters with Ladybug and Chat Noir?

And her hesitation, her reluctance to hand it back over, wanting desperately to continue, but ultimately doing the right thing, even though it was hard? 

It was a nice introduction for Rena Rouge.

(Also I’m a big Alya stan and I love her as a superhero so. You know.)

5. Startrain

When it came out, and even now, it was hailed as one of the best just regular episodes of Miraculous Ladybug, and for good reason. There’s some QUALITY Adrienette, Alya helping to set it up, and the whole class shipping the two of them together, wanting them to be happy.

The action was great and the whole class just got to have fun. What more is there to say?

4. Anansi

Carapace’s introduction knocked it out of the park!

 The way he tried to fight Anansi, even without any powers? He raced back to Alya even after being thrown, because he wanted to save her so badly? How he actually SUCCEEDED in fending off Anansi for several minutes without powers and with little experience, and just... never gave up fighting?

PEAK Nino Lahiffe.

Like, to the point that Alya even managed to figure out his identity. Hard to hide that Nino is Nino.

(Also Ladybug giving that little extra reassurance to Chat Noir, that he’s irreplaceable, fills my heart every time.)

3. Glaciator.

The episode that made Marichat fans swoon. The one where Marinette finally found out that Chat Noir is truly, sincerely in love with her, that it’s not just part of his persona. 

Adrien’s frustration and sadness with his father’s standing him up, even while preventing him from seeing his friends helped flesh out his circumstances, his feelings, the way Gabriel’s neglect hurts him, and how it affects him more broadly, with feeling frustrated and upset when Ladybug didn’t show up to dinner either - though in her case with good reason. 

We got to see Chat Noir calmer, not trying to put on a show, not his usual jaunty self, but acting more akin to how he does when he’s Adrien - a shift that’s abrupt enough to take Tikki and Marinette by surprise, despite knowing him so well.

Plus Ladybug and Chat Noir got to have a much needed heartfelt talk, with her letting him know how much she cares for him, values him, but that her heart belongs to another, and Chat Noir affirming how valuable her friendship is to him.

----

Now, most of these first eight could be swapped out with other episodes, and there are others I’m beginning to think should’ve been on the list, but the top 2 EARNED their place, and it’ll take a lot to dislodge them.

---

2. Chat Blanc

This episode was a treasure trove of character development, showing a “What if?” scenario. It affirmed just how quickly Adrien would leap to Ladybug being Marinette (which we caught a glimpse of in Kwamibuster) if given half the chance, and how much he absolutely adores the idea, melting into a love puddle at the thought and being certain that it’s true.

We see that they CAN be happy together, that they would be ecstatic and brimming with love.

How broken up both Adrien and Marinette would be at the unbearable thought of being separated.

And what Adrien’s reaction would be to finding out his mother’s status and that his father’s the supervillain they’ve been fighting this whole time.

Also what an absolute BASTARD of a shitstain of a human being Gabriel is.

Gave Ladybug an added incentive not to fall for Chat Noir, left a lasting impact in that way, as well as adding to the pressure to not make even the slightest mistake, that ended up descending on her in the season finale.

And we got to see Ladybug hugging Chat Noir after purifying him, her determination to ALWAYS consider him Chat Noir, that he IS Chat Noir, that he couldn’t be poisoned so much that he wasn’t still her kitty. She even called her timeline’s version over afterwards, just because she wanted that added reassurance that he was fine. She cares for him so much!

1. Oblivio

This is it. The holy grail. The episode that got me into the show. The one that showed that these two would fall for each other quickly, if certain pesky barriers weren’t in the way. That the “True Selves” narrative is false, that these two are themselves regardless of the costume they wear, just having certain sides of themselves accentuated.

He falls for her because of her wits, her bravery, her cuteness. 

She falls for him because of his kindness, his sincerity, the way he stares at her with those lovesick kitty eyes-

I’m love square trash, so sue me. 

Plus it shakes up their roles a little, evens them out. Both of them are involved with planning, with figuring things out. Both of them get to have fun, and Ladybug in particular seems like she has less pressure on her shoulders.

Also they kiss.

That is important.

[cant-blink]

Half-Life, Ch. 3

Summary: Gigan takes Ghidorah on their first “date” to the bar. We learn a few things about this three-headed dragon.

-

Normally, the flight from a planet into the void of space was the most satisfying part of his mission.

The thought of the carnage he left behind, a planet burning beneath him and rendered completely uninhabitable. The complete extermination of life, the knowledge that it was all from his own hard work. He adored the strength of his wings fighting the gravitational pull, the feeling of the air thinning, and at last, the weightlessness of space.

The sight of the stars all around, promising more worlds for him to destroy. So many lives to toy with.

The wave of cosmic energy that would hit his scales, rejuvenating him. Feeding off the energy through the membrane of his wings, healing his wounds and restoring his strength for the journey ahead. Under normal circumstances, he would then cocoon himself within an asteroid produced by his own body,  reducing himself to a pure energy form. Content and happy, he would fall into dormancy, his asteroid drawn towards planets one after another until his moon-shaped crests would pick up signs of life to awaken him once more.

But this was not normal circumstances and as he flies higher through this world’s atmosphere, the only thing that coursed through him was not satisfaction, but anger, hatred, frustration...

And dread...

Breaking free of the planet’s hold, Ghidorah felt the cosmic waves flowing over him, speeding his regeneration to be almost instantaneous. The pain coursing through his back with every stroke of his wings had disappeared.

The pain in his middle head, however, remained. The injury there has healed, but the newly-active chip gave a very uncomfortable sensation. He wanted to chew at the spot, scratch at it with a foot, but he knew it was useless. Even if he could will his body to perform the action, chewing and clawing it out would only result in his own death.

Granted, death would probably be preferable to what fate the half-life had in store for him.

He kept glancing back towards the planet. He wasn’t used to leaving a world only half-destroyed. It went against every fiber of his being and his impulses fought against the mind-control in vain. Always in vain.

His glare fastened on the cyborg, and the light from the blue giant star that reflected off the metal armor was almost blinding. It was obnoxious, as was the look of expectation given to him. He wanted to just fly off in the opposite direction, just to spite him, but of course, he couldn’t. Absolutely infuriating, being trapped in a body that was no longer his to control.

At the silent order, Ghidorah felt his wings fold close and his tails moving to curl around himself. All three of his heads lowered, his legs tucked in and wings wrapping around himself. Red wisps like flames came from his scales, until it engulfed him and his body became energy. Stone began forming around him, its minerals perfect for holding his vast energy and absorbing in more cosmic rays to ensure he did not weaken during his hibernation.

At least in said hibernation, he can forget...

-

“Your name is Ghidorah. You were created to be ultimate weapon.”

Those telepathic words have been imprinted in his mind for as long as he could remember. Repeated over and over, his Masters would put these thoughts into his mind, to the point where it provided some level of comfort to the young dragon. 

And at this stage of his development, comfort was very important.

There was darkness around him, even in a well-lit sterile room beyond the membrane that held him. His eyelids were still sealed, having not yet opened to experience the light he would instinctively seek out as an adult. His ears were still closed, and his scales were soft. Occasionally, one of his tongues would flick out, but the only scent he would pick out was his own, in the nourishing goo around him. 

His only real sense was that of his well-developed crests. He could feel irresistible auras, all around him. Every so often, several of these auras would get closer, more potent, so close that his three jaws would snap open through instinct. Muscles in his chest would tighten, but the organs housing his gravity beams has not yet fully matured and held no energy within.

He would calm when the auras faded back into the noise. He still desired them, though, and every time he woke from his sleep, he would test the boundaries of his egg, kicking at the membrane uselessly. But the day will come closer, when he will be ready to emerge. Then he can snuff out those auras, and it would be amazing. 

"The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message would continue. “You will make it safer, for all of us."

Safer.

He felt pretty safe now, growing steadily within his warm confines. He had never experienced fear, or pain, and it would take several more weeks before he had his first taste of it...

He had grown substantially, easily twice the size he once was just weeks ago. His wings were growing the fastest, wrapped tight around him like an extra blanket within the membrane. Said membrane was expanding, stretching over his scales. Those scales were more developed, a distinct keeled look to each one. His eyes were open, sleepy and unfocused, but he saw the light.

He wanted that light...

Especially when he felt the aura growing stronger. His red eyes can make out movement, a blurred shadow looming by him. The impulse to lash out at it was powerful, and already two of his three jaws had opened. By now, only sparks escaped and deteriorates into the goo.

“The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message replayed again, but this time, it added more. “It’s filled with violent races that seek to destroy those who only wish to live in peace. You will be the savior that fights for those innocents, that cleanses the universe of those dark forces. But first...”

He felt something odd, brushing against the mane of his middle head. The first time a foreign object touches him. It lacked an aura, but nonetheless, his left head automatically moved to bite the thing with tiny fangs, an-

A stabbing pain came from the back of his middle head. His legs kicked out, the membrane stretching from the movement, but not yet giving out. His wings and tails push against his home, his prison, as he tried to escape the pain. 

The sharpness left just as quickly as it had appeared, but it left the pain behind, as well as a very wrong feeling. Like something foreign on his body. IN his body. 

“You will hold great power and to focus that power, we have given you a gift...”

-

Ghidorah snapped awake even before the half-life gave the signal that they have arrived. It was not often he had dreams like that, reliving such old memories. It honestly pissed him off. 

A gift, that’s what his old Masters called it. Even back then, he knew that was completely false. By ‘focus’, they meant kept under THEIR control. This damn chip and all the trouble it caused has plagued him even before he hatched! If he had lungs and the concept of sighing, he would have done so at this moment. Seems even in hibernation, he cannot be left in peace.

It takes a moment before he was calm enough to notice the presence of lifeforms, many more besides the cyborg that held him hostage. He felt the vibration of his stone cocoon, hears the muffled voice of the half-life calling out to him.

Wait, hear him? That means there has to be an atmosphere. He didn’t feel the impact of striking a planet or another celestial body.

“Wake up!” the half-life continued, still banging against the asteroid for no reason other than to annoy him, he’s sure.

Ugh, just hearing that stupid voice made him wanna go back into hibernation, much less the damn incessant knocking. But alas, he felt his own energy escape the stone, rendering it to dust before he took form. He opened his eyes, and his sight was immediately assaulted with pink. A vivid purple-pink everywhere. 

Where was he?

He looked around, the haze stretching in all directions with no sign of an end. All six of his eyes swept the area before all meeting right at the cyborg.

"The bar is over there," The half-life told him, pointing a claw towards a nearby asteroid. "Clean yourself up. I want you looking your best. Y’know, before I ruin you."

Ghidorah lets out a growl at those words, and that growl gets even louder as he automatically moved to groom himself. He always took pride in his appearance, as a dragon should. But as much as he enjoyed grooming, the fact he wasn’t doing it because he wanted to took away all enjoyment.

It isn’t made better by how the half-life was watching him. Damn thing enjoying the show? He wanted to gravity beam that face. Especially when he starts flying closer. Ghidorah felt himself go on edge, wanting to move away to keep the distance, but his body refused to stop cleaning itself.

Unfortunately, it was the half-life himself that stopped the grooming session, one of his claws once more hooking around the back of his middle head and pulling him down.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” came the retort. “Especially with any of your damn back-talk.”

Ghidorah narrowed his eyes, especially when the crest on his forehead was touched by the half-life’s other claw. His crest was glowing quite strongly, as it tended to do when a high concentration of life-energy was nearby. They were quite sensitive and he did not like the sensation of anyone touching them, much less this disgrace of a kaiju.

He nonetheless held still as the half-life examined his crests for whatever reason before he caught a whisper.

“You feel them, don’t you? This is what you mean with your crests ‘filtering’ my presence. They never glowed this brightly for me.” The half-life’s voice had a very odd edge to it. It almost sounded like this fool was...

Was he jealous?! That didn’t make sense to the dragon. Why in the void would he be jealous over something like this? He can’t control how brightly his crests glowed; it all depended on the size and number of the lifeforms in the area! It’s not his fault this idiot had his aura tainted so badly and was hardly considered alive! But Ghidorah didn’t respond with these sharp words no matter how much he wanted to, the chip rendering his tongue frozen. All he can do is hide a wince when the claw tapped against the moon-shaped structure. 

He heard a grunt before the cyborg continued in a cold tone, despite the foul smirk on his beak. “Remember when I said we can kill a few folks here? I lied. For once, you’re going to have some damn self-control and not kill any of them. Got it?”

There was a slight widening of his eyes. Never before has he been given an order that so blatantly went against what he was created for. His old Masters, every other alien race that took advantage of him, wanted him to kill. Sure, they wanted specific targets killed, but killed nonetheless. But this... IDIOT decides he was going to waste his time, waste his talents, for... WHATEVER it was that one did at these ‘bars’. He was convinced the cyborg was only doing this to irritate him further, and it was working! If he wasn’t pissed off before, he definitely was now!

“Yes.” That word still escaped him, monotone and lacking any of the anger fuming within his mind. And it only gets worse when it rouses a snicker from the half-life and he felt that metal-coated beak touch the scales of his snout. The left mandible seemed to caress under his jaw, the cyborg moving it side-to-side against his skin. He wanted to pull away, willed every fiber of his body to get him away, but he can’t move. 

“You missed a spot.”

What was that supposed to me-

He froze when he felt something wet and warm slide against the scales of his face. His right head could see the half-life running his tongue along his snout and lips. He had no idea what to do with this, as nobody has ever made such moves towards him before. He didn’t like it, at all! He wanted to bite, to blast the half-life in the face, push him away with his heads. ANYTHING!!

But he can’t do anything, except endure.

He closed his eyes, all six of his eyes, just counting the seconds for this to be over. He felt the creature’s tongue push into his mouth, and the urge to bite down and tear it off was through the roof! It was so damn frustrating, and the seconds crawled slower in his mind before finally, the half-life pulled away.

“Hm,” he heard from the cyborg, his middle-set of eyes opening to see the face just inches from his own. The glare he gave was intense, but the other kaiju doesn’t seem bothered. If anything, the half-life seemed encouraged to rest his beak on his nose as he chuckled. “We’ll work on it~.”

Ghidorah didn’t want to work on anything except this thing’s death. How DARE this inferior creature pulled such a stunt with him, and to think, it was only going to go downhill from here! Swear, for every second he had to wait during that, he was going to make the cyborg suffer ten times longer when he breaks free from this! But he couldn’t speak any of the thoughts going through his mind. Damn this chip, taking away everything including his voice!

He felt the claw holding his head down slide off, the edge teasing the fur of his mane before the creature turned away.

“Let’s go.” 

He flew towards the asteroid he pointed out the bar being on. Ghidorah lingered where he was for a moment, but alas, his wings gave a flap through the atmosphere and followed after him. 

-

“Hey, McLegsalot!”

“Don’t call me that,” came the retort as Gigan sat down and made himself comfortable. A winged centipede-like kaiju squinted ten beady eyes at the cyborg, his antennae brushing over his face and chest. The four pairs of arms cleaning the glasses slow to a halt. “Gigan?”

“Scolopendra. Long time, no see. Loving my new look?”

“This is what you’re doing to undo your ban? Slap on a new paintjob and pretend you’re someone else?”

“Nah, if I was going to do that, I’d put on chainsaws instead of these,” Gigan responded, lifting the blades on his arms. “Less obvious that way. Anyway, what’s a little ban between friends, huh? Mind giving me the usual?”

“I’m not giving you anything. I-” The centipede cuts himself off, glancing off to the side before muttering. “Look, man, I ain’t losing my job over this. Last time you were here, we had to rebuild everything from the ground up thanks to your little drunken tirades. Like hell, we’re doing all that again.”

Gigan waved a claw dismissively. “Don’t worry your pretty little antennas over it-”

“It’s antennae, you dumb fuck.”

“-I’m not here to make a mess. I just want a nice, quiet time. Honest. So-”

“HA!”

“-Soooo,” Gigan drawled, refusing to back down from this little game. “Why don’t you just give me a drink and we can carry on the night like usual.”

“What part of ‘you’re banned from this establishment’ do you not understand? Hell, if Mr. Mavex finds you here-”

“And I told you, not to worry about it. Your boss won’t even have time to think about you, much less fire you.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how this works.”

“It will, trust me. Y’see, I brought along a date an-”

“Oh, for fuck sake, Gigan,” the centipede interrupted, shaking his head as the cyborg glanced over his shoulder and gave a loud shrill whistling noise. “How many times do I have to say this, I’m not going to...”

The centipede’s voice trailed off, as all the patrons within a ten-mile radius suddenly went quiet. A very large three-headed silhouette loomed at the entrance towering above all other customers, long serpentine necks lowering as Ghidorah entered the doorway. Gigan found the silence to be amazing, and he gave a smirk as the many-legged kaiju reared up to eye-level with his four clear wings fanned out. Typical defensive stance, never gets old seeing it.

“I’d like you to meet Ghidorah,” he started in a smug tone. “King Ghidorah. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, yes?”

At once, everyone made a hurry to vacate the vicinity, as Scolopendra glared at the cyborg. “You led that thing right to us! Are you insane?!” Gigan knew he didn’t have to answer that, but he does anyway with a cheeky little grin.

“Only a little.”

He glanced back at Ghidorah, whose six eyes were locked on the smaller creatures fleeing from him. He can see the spark of bloodlust in those eyes, the familiar instincts to give chase and end them all. But as expected, the dragon could do no such thing. At least-

“Now, about that ban...” Gigan continued casually, as everything ran amok behind him. “I told him not to do any harm to anyone, but if you really insist on denying me drinks...” He reveled in the angry look the bartender gave to him and he settled his blades on the bar, propping himself up a bit as he leaned closer. “I’ll take the usual, yeah? For two.”

Those eyes stay locked on him for a long moment before Scolopendra finally backed off and went to prepare his drinks. That’s more he liked it and he leaned back on his seat. “Glad you can listen to reason, Legs. I’m sure your boss will too.” He heard a nasty grumble from the bug but he disregards it as his eye returns to his golden prize, who was now staring at the bartender intensely. 

“Hey,” he called out, earning the dragon’s attention. He nodded towards the chair beside him. Ghidorah glanced towards it and wandered over. It was adorably awkward, watching the dragon attempt to sit on a chair that was too small for him. Gigan couldn’t keep in a chuckle. “Lean on me~”

It still delighted him, that Ghidorah could do nothing to resist his orders. He felt the hydra press up against his side, those scales felt cold compared to their surroundings, but the cyborg didn’t mind. He nuzzled his beak against that golden hide, his mandibles nipping playfully before the bartender returned with his order.

“Good man,” Gigan snickered, his tail moving to clasp onto the glass. He caught Scolopendra eyeing at the dragon as he placed the glass down in front of him, and he was quick to show off his prize. “Told you I had a date.”

“A date?” Scolopendra responded skeptically. “Or another one of your meatshields?”

“Hey, hey, no need to be like that.” Gigan gave a chuckle as he took a sip of his drink. Ah, still tasted the same as he remembered. He took a bigger gulp. “And what do you mean, ANOTHER meatshield? Don’t act like you don’t miss those old days. All the plundering and pilfering, great times.” Another gulp. “Not my fault you got yourself trapped in here.”

“Pretty sure it was,” the centipede grumbled. “When you threw me under the bus while you ran away like a coward.”

“Like a pirate~.”

“Like a coward.”

“Meh, don’t take it so personal, Legs. I was going to come back for you, but you were already gone and now...” Another swig. “Who am I to tell you this ‘honest’ life is boring? After all, you're giving me free drinks.”

“This piece of work...” Scolopendra hissed with another shake of his head, before looking to Ghidorah. “And you’re dating this? What do you even see in him?”

The cyborg gave a short, sharp laugh as he brought his glass back up to his beak for another go, intending to respond for his partner when-

“No, I’m not ‘dating’ him.” Gigan heard Ghidorah growl softly and he sputtered mid-gulp. But the dragon doesn’t stop, maintaining direct eye-contact with him with all six eyes. “The half-life coward did the same to me, tried to abandon me in a fight. Watching Godzilla blast him out of the sky was the single most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen.”

Moment of silence, as Gigan glared towards his slave harshly. Didn’t he tell this asshole not to speak unless spoken t-

Dammit, Scolopendra spoke to him and now this bastard was taking every advantage of it to ruin everything! Well, two can play at that game. Glancing at the centipede, who was now giving him a Look, he pushed the drink closer to his partner.

“Heh, stop kidding around, babe. Tell the bug you’re joking.”

The smirk returned to Gigan’s face as Ghidorah did as told immediately. “You’re joking.” AND that smirk died just as quickly as it appeared.

Oh, this smartass mother-fuckin’ piece of-

Without warning, he struck a blade across the chest of the dragon, who jolts back and loses balance from his chair. The ground trembled from the impact as he fell, and Gigan gave his partner no time to recover as he stomped a foot onto the gash he left. This earned a pained snarl from the dragon, but Ghidorah does nothing to retaliate as the cyborg once more hooked a claw around that middle head, leaning in to hiss directly into this asshole’s ear.

“How about this: You don’t speak, at all, unless I directly address you. Now shut up, and drink your damn glass.”

They continued to lock glares for a moment, before Gigan lets him go and sits back on his seat. Ghidorah took a moment to get up, blood seeping from the wound but he does nothing to tend to himself. He instead looked at the drink, glanced at Gigan’s glass, then back to his own. The middle head leaned down and a forked tongue slips out his mouth and barely brushes the surface of the drink.

“Well?” Gigan persisted impatiently. “I said, drink.”

The dragon growled but said nothing as he began lapping up the drink. And no sooner had he done that, that he began gagging and what liquid he managed to swallow came right back up, seeping from the corners of his mouth. He opened said mouth and allowed it to spill its contents onto the bar. 

“Oh, what the hell!?” Scolopendra barked, jumping back as the puddle sparked for a moment before petering out. The multi-legged kaiju shot a glare at the cyborg. “You said no messes!”

“Oh, ho~!!” Gigan chortled, ignoring the bug. “Didn’t take you to be THAT much of a lightweight! Or does it really taste that bad?” He shot Scolopendra a teasing look, but the centipede was having no more of his shenanigans, leaving the mess with them as he resumed cleaning glasses on the OTHER end of the bar. Meh, whatever, Gigan had better entertainment next to him. “Drink the whole thing, babe. It gets better as you go.”

His tail clasped Ghidorah’s glass, holding it to the dragon’s lips. Of course, Ghidorah couldn’t refuse and opened his mouth to receive the drink. And no sooner did it go down his throat than his stomach gave another heave to expel it. Well then...

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad,” Gigan grunted, glancing at the glass. He was a little bit annoyed that his new partner was having this reaction to his favorite drink. “Is the taste too strong for you?”

Ghidorah glared at him with venom before responding in that beautiful monotoned voice. “I taste nothing.”

...

Gigan would blink his eye if he could; he wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting to hear, but that certainly wasn’t it. Was this dragon serious? Who’s he kidding, of course this dragon was serious! He really can’t taste anything? Then why was he spitting it all out? Can he not drink alcohol? Did the hydra’s body take it as a toxin and thus something to be rid of? Time to find out...

“Hey, Scoli!”

“Clean it up yourself.”

“Not that, you idiot. I need you to give a glass of water. Just. Water.”

The centipede doesn’t even turn to look at him, continuing to clean before placing one of those glasses down and filling it with ice water before sliding it over to the cyborg. Gigan stopped it with a blade before pushing it pointedly towards the dragon.

“How about this one?”

“I said, I taste nothing.”

“Don’t care. You’re still going to drink this.”

Ghidorah sneered at him as he turned to the water. This time, he took it with one of his jaws, teeth closed over the glass delicately yet firmly. It looked a bit awkward to the cyborg, but he imagined the hydra didn’t have many situations where he would need to manipulate objects. Ghidorah took a sizeable gulp from it, and just as the alcohol had done previously, so too did this water. The dragon heaved and out it all came, all over the floor with more sparks.

Gigan watched this for a moment, less than amused. So the dragon can’t consume ANYTHING at all; did his creators not see a purpose in it? Well, isn’t that just great! Ghidorah really was being a pain in the ass right now, wasn’t he? All he wanted was a night of fun with his future mate, show him off, get them both plastered before the main event. But of course that can’t happen, can it? The dragon just had to make fools out of both of them. He lets out a huff, forcing a crooked smile onto his beak. He will have his fun, Ghidorah be fucked.

“Fine, more for me. Keep ‘em coming, Legs! We’re gonna be here a while.”