#really hoping this is coherent loll

[resident-rats]

Thanks for the tag @goodpointsandbadpoints !!

When did you start writing?

I started properly writing at the beginning of last year, though I did write some not so serious fanfics for my friends as a teenager lol. But I don’t count those hfhhf

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love to read horror, it’s probably 90% of books I’ve read. Though admittedly I’ve been in a reading slump recently, but I read a book over the past few days which was uhhh horror (using the term very loosely) and gay smut hdhdh, so it was a bit of a when worlds collide moment. BUT I have read a lot of horror over the years, and have lots of books that are on my list to read!! So if anyone ever wants horror book recommendations then I’m your guy

ANYWAY I have thought about writing a fic which leans more into the horror genre, but also trying new things is scary <33. Also I feel like most people who read my stuff want smut hchfh - which I’m more than happy to provide, but they are quite difficult genres to intertwine lol

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don’t think so?? Though usually when writing I kinda pretend I’m a narrator? Like the kind you get in RPGs. No specific one really, but that’s often what’s going on in my mind

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Usually either my room or my living room. If it’s in my room then I will have colourful mood lighting and if it’s in my living room usually I have the lights off and candles

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music usually! In general I daydream a lot while listening to it, and often enough that includes scenes I can weave into a fic

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Usually mental health and self worth I think? In most of my fics Leon is depressed and doesn’t think very highly of himself, not really expecting to be shown kindness? He’s also often quite sexually repressed

What is your reason for writing?

When I started I was struggling quite a lot with a lot of things, and writing kinda offered a distraction/escape from that? Since it’s a very time consuming hobby. And I guess it still offers that? This year so far has been pretty rough in general, but it’s still one of the things which has kept me going. Plus it has brought comfort? Earlier this year I lost someone unexpectedly, and it got me thinking about my own life and mortality. But it kinda gives me a sense of security knowing that people will still be able to enjoy something I’ve created long after I’m gone (granted the internet doesn’t self destruct). Like little bits of me are forever interwoven into my fics

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Tbh as long as I don’t come across as arrogant or ungrateful then I’m happy lol

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Smut hdhdh. Which again is maybe quite limiting as I’m scared to write something which contains no smut. But also it’s nice having a place to put my decrepit thoughts yippeee

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think it’s pretty average, like I don’t think it’s bad but I don’t think it’s flawless. It could probably use more refined plot points and better endings, and sometimes I feel like the pacing is a bit off. But I also think it’s fun, and thats usually why people read fanfiction above anything else. Nothing has to be perfect (trying to hammer that into my head anyway)

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

A bit of both. Obviously it crosses my mind, I think it crosses everyone’s, but if I really want to write something then I will. Like the premise of my selkie fic was 100% just written for me lol, but also had elements in it which I thought others would enjoy

Tagging literally anyone who wants to do this!! And I genuinely mean that because I’m nosey <33

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[cat3ch1sm]

This is so awkward, but I was wondering if you could write hcs for if the reader called L, Mello, Near, and Matt "daddy" or "sir" or something else along those lines during sex? 😭 (if not that's totally fine I just got a mental image of Mello being like "what-" and I'm seeking other opinions lol)

🐸~ loll!! don't worry i have gotten much worse requests than this, this isn't at all awkward. this request seemed fun lol i hope u enjoy! i love u lots and thanks for ur support<33

nsfw ahead, gn!reader, sub!reader

how they'd react to being called daddy/sir during sex~ wammy boys

matt

~ it just slipped from your lips in the heat of the moment. you had been really hazy and a bit delirious and matt had been deep inside you when it just popped out. and yes, it did catch him by surprise for about half a second since he wasn't expecting it and it wasn't something you'd ever called him before. but in the same half a second he was caught off guard, matt decided he loved it. he doesn't say anything about it in the moment, but it was the way you said it, with your shaky voice barely coherent and your pretty eyes crossed, overwhelmed with pleasure. matt takes it as a sign that he's doing a really good job, and best believe he makes it his mission to get one of those out of you again every time you two get intimate. on the other hand, expect pretty relentless teasing about it. matt both finds it amusing and a hell of a turn on how easily he can get you off, how he can make you just lose yourself like that.

~ "hey, matt, can you get that over there for me?"

~ "don't you mean daddy?"

~ "you are the worst."

mello

~ mello is someone who enjoys being in control during sex. so when you moan that in this pathetic, trembling voice, pleading with tears pricking the corners of your eyes for him to keep going, it's really such a rush for him. the brief moment of surprise at the unexpected title is quickly swept away by the surge of pride, almost arrogant in its nature. you've fully surrendered yourself to him; your pleasure is in his hands; you've acknowledged his power over your body. he'll probably get rougher in the moment, and later on in future intimate encounters he'll outright make you say it, denying you any release until you do, over and over and over.

near

~ although near does usually prefer it when you both are equals during sex, he can't help the swell of satisfaction in his heart when you call him that. after all, he has an ego like every other man on this list, and near gets something out of being at least somewhat in control, even in your sexual encounters where he does normally prefer not for anyone to be dominant. it's not like he needs to hear you say it every time, but near certainly doesn't mind when you do. besides, it means you like what he's doing and he's making you feel good, which is what he wants most.

ryuzaki

~ he probably spends the most time being surprised out of anybody else on this list. he doesn't have anything against it- besides, it would probably kill the mood if ryuzaki paused mid-sex to ask about it and what brought it on- but he just is somebody who likes having answers. so he may or may not literally interview you about it later- did he do something different? is that something that might happen again? what prompted you to call him that? he must know, even if you can hardly even sit up or form a full sentence yet.

[esvcort]

nsfw drabble of Rafayel?👉👈

hi anon ^^ thank you so much for sending a request! i'm not really proud of how this turned out but i still hope you like it (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^) i'm so sorry this took a while! i've been grinding non-stop to get some gems since the pulse hunter banner is about to end and i still don't have the cards i've been aiming for (>/////< " ) it's so hard being f2p out here TuT

cw: nsfw, 18+ content, fingering, clit rubbing for like 2 seconds (again), i mention drool once, kinda ooc rafayel (?) i think

my requests are open for the lads men!

"hah! rafayel! hng…" you squirm in his embrace, clutching his arms as he spreads your shaking legs wide with his own, preventing you from closing them altogether. his fingers are relentless with how it plays with your drenched cunt, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit while his middle and ring finger slide in and out of your leaking hole. you feel your head spin from the pleasure and rafayel's hold tightens at the sudden jolt of your body.

"shh, shh, i got you, baby." he coos quietly beside your ear, placing a sloppy kiss on the side of your neck. his fingers plunge deeper into your pussy knuckle deep, constantly hitting that spongey spot that has you squealing and gripping his arm.

"oh fuck, yes! rafayel, there!" it starts to feel so good that you fuck back onto rafayel's fingers, eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out of your mouth as you start spilling some drool.

"feel good, baby?" rafayel's voice comes out somewhat broken, and he can't even explain why. his throat is drying up from the obscene sight in front of him, your divine and heavenly body right at his mercy. it's so fucking hot how you're furiously grinding against his lithe fingers, trying to come.

"yea… yeah… feels so fucking good…" your brain scrambles to even put a coherent sentence together when all it can think of is good, good, good. the words are slurred as it comes out of your sweet mouth, its whispers reaching rafayel's reddened ears.

"so pretty… just for me." his lips trace the line of your shoulder up to the bottom of your ear. greed fills up his heart to the brim with dark selfish desires, wanting to keep you all for himself. he already has you in his arms, but why must he stop there?

he wants to invade all of your thoughts, leaving fragments of himself in every crevice of your mind. wants you to think of him, and only him, so you don't forget. he never wants you to forget him again.

likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!

[remlionheart]

Is there ANY chance you’d do a Gojo/Reader/Megumi euphoria version, just as nasty and beautiful as the other ones ??? You know, with dp, creampies, praise kinks etc

Maybe it could pick up when y/n goes back for another party like Gojo said and he found out that she also had a crush on Megumi so he invited him too and they’re all high etc. OOOFFF I got excited just by thinking about it

Let me manifest you writing this with your incredible talent 🙌🏼✨

When I tell you this had fireworks going off in my brain when I read it this morning 😮‍💨 I love all of you and your ideas so much ₊˚ෆ My schedule has been pretty tight lately between work and writing and trying not to lose my mind in the mix, but this got me up and to my laptop the minute I opened it. Manifest and you shall receive 🔮✨, ily nonnie ♡

➳ all of my euphoria fics are standalone for the most part, but meg's full story can be found here and gojo's here if you're new. this one in particular is more of an AU drabble than it is a continuation of either. (also - quick lil disclaimer: all characters are aged up to 21+, meg was raised by toji in this not gojo, and finally, i am not responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating bc this turned out fucking filthy) hope u like it ♡

۵ ⋆˙MDNI ⋆˙۵

Show and Tell ₊˚⊹♡

You stared down at your phone, rereading the text from Gojo-sensei for what had to be the tenth time when you finally took a breath and opened the front door. His living room was exactly how you remembered it: overflowing with people and music and purple lights and drunken nonsense. The only difference was that you were coherent this time and actually able to push yourself through the sea of your former classmates as you made your way up the stairs.

With each step you took though, you couldn't decide if your sobriety was a good thing or a bad thing. Your heart was jumping around in your chest, your eyes glued to the floor in a feeble attempt to avoid the suspicious eyebrow raises you were getting the closer you got to his bedroom.

“I want you over here again next weekend,” he had said in between breaths, his cum seeping out of you as he pulled out. “Got it?"

You thought it had just been the heat of the moment talking. A fleeting 3 am coke-induced thought that he'd forget about once he came back to his senses, but he didn't. He was holding onto his demands, waiting for you as you reached for the door handle.

No one was allowed in his room.

No one, except for you.

Your footsteps came to an abrupt pause, your gaze suddenly darting between the two sets of blue eyes that were looking back at you. A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of Gojo's mouth as he held his hand out, motioning with one finger for you to come closer.

Megumi watched the way you walked towards him, noting the little exhale you let out once you'd reached him. Your nervous excitement was almost as palpable as it was pitiful. A faint shade of pink decorated your cheeks as you stood between your former teacher's legs. "Open." Gojo instructed.

Megumi had heard the rumors about the two of you hooking up, but he hadn't really believed it until now. His jaw clenched, his eyes still trailing over you while you obediently lolled your tongue out for the silver-haired man. He wondered if you even knew what you were taking as Gojo placed a point of molly into your mouth, nodding proudly as you swallowed it.

It was odd, how similar you still looked to the last time he'd seen you at Jujutsu High but how absolutely unrecognizable you seemed showing off for your former teacher.

"See how good she is?" Gojo mused, breaking Megumi's train of thought. "Does exactly what she's told. Takes orders so well." Megumi's pupils widened when he noticed that you were looking at him now as Gojo began to slip your shirt above your head.

"I... should probably go -"

"Relax." Gojo said simply, his hands reaching around to unclasp your bra. Your nipples hardened as it fell to the floor, leaving you exposed in front of the two of them. "You're here for a reason."

A burst of warmth and blissful dizziness spread through your body, whatever drug he'd given you was starting to take hold. It felt different than the coke you'd done last time, but you couldn't quite place your finger on what this was. It was an overwhelming heady sensation. A fluttering in your chest. A smile you couldn't quite fight back. An insatiable urge to just touch something.

Gojo shot the raven-haired boy a grin that could've rivaled that of the devil's. "I saw the way she was looking at you the last time she was here. Think she has a bit of a crush on you." His tone was taunting, his hand running along the curve of your hip as he redirected his attention up to you. "Don't you, baby?"

You wanted to say no. Wanted to lie. Wanted to create a convincing argument against it, but the substances in your system were making it increasingly difficult to not lean into your real feelings. The things you couldn't possibly say out loud sober, the desires you'd usually bury - they were all at the forefront of your mind. Willing and ready to make their appearance the second your mouth opened again.

"I -"

But Gojo's palm found the inside of your thigh before you could get it out, you nearly moaned just from the feeling of his fingers roaming up towards your center. Everything suddenly felt so good. So unexplainably fucking good.

"Tell him." Gojo prompted, sliding your panties to the side. "Don't look at me, look at him. Tell him how bad you want him to fuck you, baby."

Even under the red glow from Gojo's headboard light, you could see the curiosity and blatant want laid out on Megumi's face. You kept your eyes locked with his as Gojo slipped a slender finger between your folds, making it impossible to keep your voice steady.

"Megumi..." it was a whimper. A sweet, lewd little nothing that made his cock twitch. You reached for his hand and he took it, slowly lacing his fingers into yours. "Will you –"

"No. That's not it." Gojo shook his head, forcing your gaze back on him as he slammed two fingers into you, almost making your knees buckle. "You're not asking, you're telling him what you want. C'mon baby, use your words."

Your whines were echoing across the room, your body grinding greedily against Gojo's digits as you looked back to Megumi with your bottom lip lodged between your teeth. Your head was everywhere. Your body so overwhelmingly sensitive.

"Megumi, please." You tried again, but it was just as desperate and feeble as before. "I... really... want – oh, fuck." Gojo was relentless, the wet sounds of him plunging into you only getting louder. "Please." you writhed against him, shooting Megumi a helpless look as your eyes began to roll. "Please, Megumi, I – want you... to... fuck, ohmygod –"

"There she is." Gojo praised, using his thumb to rub against your clit. You were clenching around him, nearly dripping as you stood before him, your vision dancing between the two men. "Keep going. Keep talking. Don't stop."

"I-want-you-to-fuck-me." It almost came out as one word with how quick and breathlessly it left your mouth. "Please. Pl – ease. Oh, fuck. Fuck... I can't.... Gojo, 'm gonna –"

It felt like something inside Megumi had snapped as he watched the orgasm rake through your body. The way your eyes glazed over. The way you leaned against Gojo for support as your cunt spasmed around him. The slick glistening down your thigh. You looked so dazed out and gorgeous, it was almost too much to handle. The molly in his system was hitting him just as hard as it was hitting you.

His fingers were still tangled firmly into yours, your knuckles almost turning white from how hard you'd been holding onto him. The second Gojo released you, Megumi was pulling you over to him, his lips meeting yours with feral urgency while he guided you on top of him.

There was an undeniable energy between the two of you. Your bodies both humming with desire as he kissed along your neck, using his other free hand to undo the buttons of his pants.

Gojo smirked watching the two of you before leaning over to his nightstand and divvying out a bump of coke for himself.

Megumi was careful as he lined himself up with your entrance, letting his tip slide in slowly. You were so wet. Already moaning with how little he'd given you. "Fuck, you feel good." He groaned, placing his hands on your hips to help pull you down further.

You gripped his shoulders, easing yourself further and further down. You felt delirious from how perfectly he was stretching you, another surge of warmth rushing over you as you matched his rhythm.

"You're s'fucking pretty." He whispered, his hips bucking up, making your eyes nearly cross as his tip met your cervix. "So cute when you're all fucked out like this."

Gojo stripped out of his pants and boxers, undoing the buttons along his shirt as he continued to watch the two of you. "She's a tight little thing, isn't she?" He smirked. "Don't worry though, she can take it." His thumb was suddenly under your chin, forcing your face next to his. "You want him to go deeper, baby?"

You nodded back him with stars in your eyes, whining into his mouth as Megumi plunged himself into you earning an arrogant smirk from Gojo. "Look at that pouty face." he teased, parting your lips with his tongue. "Such a good girl, you know that?"

The feeling of Megumi filling and laying into you while Gojo-sensei instructed him how to fuck you felt too farfetched to be real. You must've been in a dream. A delicious dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Gojo grinned, noting how feverish your movements had become. How much harder your ass was smacking against Megumi's thighs each time you came down.

He stepped away, letting you fully grab onto Megumi as you mewled out his name, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You were clenching around him, nearly shaking from how good he felt. "Megumi, 'm - I -"

"Shh," he soothed, pulling you down onto him. "S'okay, I've got you. Look at me." There were overstimulated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when they met his. "Let me see it."

You were writhing against him. Your eyebrows knitting together as your thighs locked in place. You slid down, taking every inch of him, making your body nearly convulse. Your pupils bloomed as your mouth fell open. Loud, incoherent whines leaving you as tears began to spill down your cheeks. "I'm cumming." You cried. "Fuck, Megumi. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'm -"

You were inconsolable, spasming against him with fervor as you drenched him. "Oh my god," he groaned, feeling himself teetering on the verge of his breaking point too. You were smothering him.

His head spinning from how snug and warm your walls were, how they just kept getting tighter around him the harder he continued to pump into you. You were so pretty to look at - the way your tits bounced perfectly with each thrust, the way your eyes stayed focused on him, the way you kept whimpering out his name in this adorably pitiful broken voice. This entire thing felt like dream to him too. A salaciously beautiful haze that he'd think about for at least the rest of his life.

"I'm about to cum." He warned you, unsure where you wanted it. Gojo stepped back in, standing behind you to place his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you down further, drawing out another blitzed-out noise from you.

"Let her have it." Gojo nodded, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while he kissed the side of your neck, his free hand drifting down to your clit. The sensation made you grind against him even faster, moaning into Gojo's mouth as Megumi filled you. "Good girl." he whispered. "Look at how well you're takin' him, baby. Makin' me so fuckin' proud."

Gojo helped guide you off of him once you were both done, careful to lift you as a mixture of fluids spilled out of you. "Messy girl." Gojo smirked. "Need you to get him all cleaned off before he goes back out there, 'kay?"

You looked at him from over your shoulder, giving him a dizzy smile as he bent you over and Megumi spread his legs apart to accommodate you.

He was so spent. So high. So blissfully exhausted, he wasn't sure it'd be possible for him to cum again this soon. But the minute he felt your tongue press against his base, the way you looked up at him through those heavy lashes - he quickly realized that he had at least one more left in him.

Gojo took his time, admiring how puffy and pretty your leaking pussy was. He'd gone easy on you last weekend. Tried to keep his roughness to a minimum, but he knew you were ready.

He rubbed his tip between your folds, wetting himself with the slick. "Stay focused on your breathing."

It was the same thing he'd told you the last time he entered you, only it held new meaning now that you had a mouthful of cock and Gojo-sensei's girth inside you. Your back arched for him, your eyes glazing over as Megumi's hand tangled into your hair.

"You've got it." Megumi reassured you. "Just like that."

Gojo's grip was tightening around your hips the further he went. "Don't stop just because I'm in you, I wanna see you take that whole thing."

You mewled against Megumi, drool dripping down your chin while Gojo pummeled further into you. You kept one hand on him, slowly pumping as you tried to find a good rhythm, but Gojo's pace was picking up, rocking you back and forth and making you forget how to breathe altogether.

"Gojo-sensei ~" you whined.

The formality only made his thrusts more punishing, but your walls were sucking him in so faithfully no matter how hard he went. Your body absolutely melting at his touch.

"Focus." his tone was stern, his hips meeting yours condemningly. "Show me how bad you want this. If you stop, so will I."

You opened your mouth wider, letting the pool of spit you'd gathered glide down Megumi's length as he lightly pressed your head down. "Oh shit." He muttered, watching you take almost all of him.

"There you go." Gojo praised, his hand reaching around to meet your clit again. "See how good that feels, baby? To have my cock buried in you and his down your throat?"

His fingers were drawing heavenly circles around you, the room filling with the carnal sounds of him bullying himself into you and you slurping and lapping up every bit of Megumi. You were a whimpering, soaking mess. Moaning out both of their names now each time you came up for air.

"She's already getting close again." Gojo mocked. "Poor thing, she's just so sensitive."

His fingers swirled firmly across your clit, feeling the slick that was building as Megumi thrusted himself into your mouth. Your eyes were watering again. Your legs shaking and your heart ready to beat straight out of your chest from how obscenely euphoric it all felt.

Megumi moaned prettier than any man you'd ever heard. The noises he was making alone were almost enough to keep you going. You nearly choked on him when you finally felt him twitch inside you, coating your throat with warmth as his head lulled back.

"Fuck." he rasped, pulling your head back up to look at you. "You have no idea how perfect you feel."

You gave him a glazed over smile, your cunt throbbing as Gojo continued to dominate you. He could feel you about to bottom out. "She's so ethereal, isn't she? Like a fucked-out angel." He mused, watching you reach for Megumi's hand as you clenched around him.

You were completely incoherent, your vision blurred by molly and red lights and the softness of Gojo's sheets. Megumi leaned in to kiss you, still letting you squeeze his hand for support. "God, you're gorgeous." He breathed. "Keep goin'. You're right there."

You kissed Megumi so hard you were afraid you were going to hurt him, but he didn't seem to mind, holding you tighter as you shook and moaned against his lips. “There it is.” He nodded. “You love cumming all over us, don't you?"

You nodded helplessly, tears still streaming down your face as you returned his small smile. "So - much." You choked out, your pussy clamping around Gojo as he pounded his release into you.

You were so unexplainably full, almost afraid that you wouldn't be able to stand once Gojo pulled out of you, but he helped get you to your feet.

"My little show-off," He smirked, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Always such a teacher’s pet.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[icycoldninja]

Hi Ninja I hope you're doing well!

I want to make an NSFW request involving the DMC Boys + V with a shy reader bUTTT The reader is a praiser during the Devil's tango

Like they(Reader) just feels fuzzy from all the seggz where the reader accidentally slips out a "You're doing good"/"Good boy"/"You feel so nice in me" during the tango

Mainly praises, and the boys go "OH?" *seggz intensifies* (you can go all out on this one, Ninja!) LOL ANYWAY--

Cuz like, they didn't expect this from the reader, I guess? And they (depending which of the dmc boys we r talking about) may have gotten caught off guard from that because they were expecting the reader to just be shy during *it* as well.

Please take your time! I really love your stories and headcannons! (I hope nobody has made this request before. If so, Im sorry! You can ignore this!!)

No one has made a request like this before. (unless I forgot and if i did my apologies) thank you and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Shy!Praiser!Reader NSFW headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is used to you being quite quiet during sex, hardly ever uttering coherent words, (though that might be because of him) so when you started praising him, it was a pleasant surprise.

-You were just feeling so good with Dante's thick, throbbing cock deep inside you, you couldn't help but whimper out a few words of praise towards him.

-"Danteee~, you feel so, so good inside me..."

-In response to your words, Dante Triggered. You felt a sudden surge of warmth, followed by a hot, hard thing pressing against your cervix. Dante's fiery demon dice was warming and mashing up your insides--God, did it feel amazing.

-You came so many times, you even lost consciousness for a few moments.

-Dante kept on going though, all because he wanted to hear you praise him more.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is pretty used to you being shy all the time, so naturally, he expected you to act the same way during sex.

-And you kinda were, key word: "kinda".

-At some point, you decided to stop squealing in pleasure and instead praise your boy a little, not realizing what you said until you'd said it.

-"You're doing so good--feels so good--ahh~..."

-Vergil's first thought was, pfft, like you need to tell me that. His second thought was, well, since you enjoy it so much, why don't I up the ante?

-And that is the story of how your organs got absolutely destroyed, your cervix pulverized, and your pelvic area in general obliterated because Vergil Triggered inside you and wouldn't stop pounding until he passed out. You walked with a cane for 2 weeks.

□ Nero □

-Nero doesn't really mind that you're so shy, he thinks it's cute.

-What's even cuter is how you whimper and hide your face while he's rutting into you.

-When you randomly burst out with a bit of praise, Nero was 1% surprised, 99% more turned on.

-"Neeerooo--you're amazing! Aah~! Amazing!"

-Of course, the only gentlemanly thing to do in this situation was to fuck you even harder than he was before, putting all hid energy into his hips to the point that he actually zoned out and lost awareness of his surroundings.

-You definitely woke your neighbors up with how loud you were being; thankfully no one filed any complaints.

● V ●

-V cannot help but chuckle a little at how adorably shy you are.

-Not like he has much room to talk--he hardly talks at all.

-Hearing you praise him was a welcome surprise, though. There was something about the way you whined his single letter long name that just sent fire coursing through him.

-"Good boy! V...you're such a good--good boy!"

-V wants more praise. He craves more praise. He finds his fingers traveling down to your clit, rubbing circles into it faster than you've ever felt before.

-Before you know it, your back is arched, your eyes are rolling back, your tongue lolls out, and you have the most intense orgasm of your life--the first of several that you will have to endure tonight.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about...

Alex Keller, anyone? This Price Jr golden fox has me in chokehold but there's little to no mlm content with him.

Just wanna kiss and worship this sweetheart with his golden heart and steel ba— ahem, leg.

My boy deserves it >:<

Let’s make one thing clear, you didn’t mind Alex and Farah’s friendship, in fact you were more than glad that he had someone this close to him.

However sometimes it was hard not to let the green monster show its face especially when they seemed to work so well together not just on the field but off the field as well and it didn’t make it any better hearing the way your squad mates would talk about them like they were an old married couple

You know your squad mates didn’t mean any harm, they didn’t even know that the two of you were dating, seeing as Alex and you had chosen to keep your relationship private and you know Alex and Farah were just friends and that he wouldn’t do anything to ruin your relationship.

But the green monster didn’t really care about the logistics of things as it pushed you into taking a few more drinks and being touchy feely with another soldier from your team in hopes of coaxing Alex’s green monster out of its hiding place.

It doesn’t take much for it to come out, as Alex spots you and the soldier getting chummy with each other, an indecipherable look painting his face as he grabs ahold of your arm while pulling you away from the party.

You might’ve had a couple of drinks but you were coherent enough to see the surprised look on everyone’s face, coherent enough to feel the blood pooling to the lower half of your body, and coherent enough to willingly follow him to his room knowing what’s about to happen.

It’s very rare for Alex to take control but you might’ve just pushed your luck enough to get what you want.

He quickly pulls you into his room, pushes you onto to bed, clothes are being discarded in a flurry mess along with his prostate leg, with Alex swiftling prepping himself before he’s perching himself onto your lap.

It’s rare to see Alex take control, so you indulge in it, even going as far as fueling the fire when you go to speak.

“You sure you don’t want Farah in my place?” you say, lazily smiling up at the man, while keeping a hand on his hip for balance as he lines your cockhead up with his puckered rim.

“Shut up” he says through gritted teeth before he sinks down on your length with a determined look on his face.

You barely have the time to adjust yourself before he sets a steady pace, your head lolls back onto the bed board as gasps escape your lips.

Let’s just say that after that, everyone on base knew that the two of you are dating.

Spitball w/ me?

[skyward-floored]

Part four to the mess that is accidental domestication, Warriors and Time edition! This was really fun to write but also it’s soooooo long >_< oh well.

Warning for some nonconsensual drugging, but it’s not too bad? I don’t think it’s too bad but anyway there’s your warning.

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Being separated from the group always made Warriors nervous.

Not that he’d admit it of course. But he was used to fighting and traveling alongside others, and not knowing the whereabouts of everyone except for himself and Time made him ill at ease. Especially since Time was currently slouched against his shoulder, mumbling something about bombchus and how the items were cuter than the actual creatures.

Warriors sighed, pressing a weary hand to the bridge of his nose.

Having realized they were alone after exiting a portal, him and Time had made their way to a nearby town, seeing no sign of the others while they traveled. They stopped for some info at the bar that night, hoping someone had seen a large group of young men go by recently, but had been met with no useful tips, and several people eyeing them suspiciously.

And drugged drinks.

Which Warriors has realized almost immediately after taking a sip.

But Time had gotten his drink first, spiced so heavily the flavor wasn’t noticeable, and Warriors had been trying to get information out of the bartender and wasn’t paying much attention to the other hero.

Neither of them was aware of the tasteless poison he was consuming, and Time had already drunk more than half his glass by the time Warriors sipped his own and realized what was going on. He’d quickly paid and tried to quietly drag Time outside, the older hero already swaying and cursing himself for not noticing, but their escape was noticed almost immediately.

Apparently they’d stumbled straight into a thieves town. And the residents had decided that between Time’s armor and Warriors’ scarf, the two men seemed like good pickings to make some pretty nice money.

Which was why Warriors was now hiding with Time behind a bush, listening to the townspeople chasing them shout in the distance.

Time let out a quiet groan, and Warriors gave his arm a squeeze, trying to get a good look at his face in the darkened forest. He couldn’t make out much in the dim light, but Time’s head felt hot where it was resting on his arm, an occasional tremble wracking through him.

“How are you feeling old man,” Warriors asked under his breath, and Time merely hummed quietly in reply.

The captain gave his shoulder a squeeze, then poked his head above the bush they were hiding behind. His frown deepened at the lantern lights that were bobbing in their direction, and he sank back down, trying to think through the mess they were in.

They were being chased by nearly the entire population of a town of bandits, his only ally was half-awake and getting less coherent by the minute, and he had no clue which direction the other heroes or any help might be in.

So, business as usual.

“Don’t go in the bushes, th’ dekus ‘ll get you...” Time suddenly mumbled, and Warriors gave him a concerned look. He hadn’t been speaking much sense for the past several minutes, and only seemed to be getting worse, muttering increasingly indecipherable sentences with sweat trickling down his brow.

How long until he couldn’t keep going?

Time suddenly let out a loud laugh, breaking his thoughts, and Warriors slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Time shh, are you trying to get us caught?” he hissed, and Time blinked at him, eye looking oddly milky from what the captain could see of it.

“M’ not getting us caught,” he huffed once Warriors removed his hand. Then he let out a high-pitched giggle, and Warriors stared at him incredulously. Time never... giggled. That drug was hitting him hard, and fast, it must have been some powerful stuff.

Time’s head lolled a bit, and he blinked up at Warriors, a goofy smile on his face.

“The cuccoos never listen anyway,” he assured, flopping a hand up and patting his cheek. “They just gliiiide away. Stop worryin’ about it.”

“I’m not just worried about them, I’m worried about you,” Warriors said sharply, dismay at the situation abruptly intensifying. He didn’t know if Time had been just drugged or poisoned or what, but no matter what it was he couldn’t do anything about it right now and Time just kept getting worse and he didn’t even know if he was understanding him anymore—

Warriors shook off his thoughts with a heavy sigh, and Time stared at him for a second before patting him on the arm.

“M’ sorry cap’n... I’ll call the frogs, they’ll help us,” he whispered comfortingly, then took in a deep breath and positively bellowed. “FROGS WE NEED YOU—”

Warriors slapped his hand over his mouth again.

“Don’t call the frogs, okay? Forget the frogs,” he whispered frantically, trying to get his feelings back in the box where they usually rested in situations like this. The sight of Time, normally so coolheaded but currently so confused, was rattling him more than he cared to think about.

Not to mention the shouts that were growing much too close for comfort.

“We need to keep moving, can you walk at all?” he asked Time in a voice he fought to keep steady, and the older hero hummed.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking at his boots. “I don’t want t’ squish a bug... he’d be sad. Can’ I stay?”

“No, listen Time we can’t stay here,” Warriors whispered harshly, the voices and lanterns much too close now. “There are men chasing us who want to kill us. We need to stay away from them, which means we need to move. Come on soldier!”

Time still looked uncertain, an almost childish frown on his face as he looked at the grass.

Warriors sighed again. “You’re not going to squish any bugs, okay?”

Time hesitated, then suddenly lurched upright, almost falling back down until Warriors steadied him.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled.

Warriors breathed out a relieved sigh, and began to pull Time steadily through the woods, wincing whenever their armor clanked or the leaves crunched under their feet. He figured they’d focus on outmaneuvering the bandits, putting distance between their pursuers and them, and hopefully find a place to properly hide so he could try to help Time.

Fighting would be their absolute last resort.

They’d gone maybe half a mile before Time’s steps truly began to lag, his weight growing heavier where Warriors was supporting him. The captain pursed his lips and continued to pull him along, despite how shaky the older hero was getting.

“Come on old man,” he muttered, and continued to walk, trying to increase his pace.

Time suddenly sagged in Warriors’ grip, so abruptly that the captain nearly had to lunge forward to stop him from falling on his face.

“Time, hey, are you with me?” he whispered, and Time groaned, putting a hand to his forehead as he kneeled on the ground. A bead of sweat trickled down his face, and he abruptly blinked up at Warriors, staring at him with both eyes wide.

Then they both slid shut.

“Oh no old man, don’t give out on me,” Warriors whispered frantically, shaking Time’s shoulders. “Stay awake, focus. I’m not strong enough to carry you far, you need to stay awake.”

The older hero only groaned a little and looked over Warriors’ shoulder at something, gaze unfocused.

“‘lfie...” he slurred, eyes half-lidded.

Warriors bit his lip and scanned the forest around them, ignoring the persistent shouts that were once again drawing too close for comfort. He spotted a small overhang of rocks that would provide a bit of a hiding spot, and half-supported half-dragged Time over to them, nearly collapsing once they were underneath.

“‘lfie,” Time slurred again, voice more insistent, and Warriors shushed him as he turned to his pouch, digging around for something to help counteract Time’s condition.

“Just hang tight old man, I think I might still have half a potion in here,” Warriors murmured, almost more to himself then Time. He’d been hoping to stock up at the next town, but that obviously was off the agenda.

His hand finally closed around a bottle after rummaging for several moments, and Warriors turned back towards Time, a hint of a smile on his face.

Which immediately fell away as he saw Time stumbling out back into the woods.

“Time!” Warriors whisper-shouted, and was about to run out after him until a voice spoke something from right next to the outcropping he was hiding in. Warriors froze, listening to the voice that was quickly joined by several more, and stubbornly fought back the lurch of panic in his gut.

The bandits had caught up.

And if he went out and tried to drag Time back in here, there was no way they wouldn’t see him.

“Time! Come back!” Warriors hissed in a barely legible voice, but the old man continued to stumble through the trees, towards something Warriors couldn’t make out in the dim light. All the captain could do was stay where he was and pray Time wouldn’t be spotted.

Time was oddly stealthy as he lurched towards his goal, and Warriors bit his lip as he watched a bandit emerge through the trees, lantern held high. He put a hand on his sword as the man drew closer to Time, prepared to expose himself if he had to, but dearly praying it wouldn’t be necessary.

He was good, but he was also man enough to admit he wouldn’t be able to take on an entire village of bandits alone.

Maybe he could sneak up on the man and take him out without alerting the others? It would be next to impossible not to be seen though, with the amount of light bouncing through the trees. Perhaps he could stay low and avoid the lantern light. Or maybe loop around and stay out of sight?

A sudden growl shattered his thoughts, and both Warriors and the bandit stared towards it, right at where Time was slumped dizzily against a tree. Warriors felt cold determination settle in his chest as the bandit shone his lantern straight at Time, a leering grin visible in the light as Warriors unsheathed his sword.

But the lantern light also caught on a set of bright, wolfish eyes glinting in the shadows behind Time, and another growl reverberated through the trees.

Time grinned.

“Get ‘im Wolfie.”

And with a loud snarl, a wolf jumped at the bandit, the man shrieking in shock and fear. Sleek fur shone in the light of the man’s lantern, the orange glow shining off of sharp fangs, and the man yelled for help from his companions.

Thank the goddesses for Wolfie, Warriors thought as he leapt out of his hiding spot and bolted for Time, grabbing his arm and trying to hoist him back up from where he’d slid down the trunk.

“Come on old man, he’s only going to be able to give us so much time to get away,” Warriors grunted, trying to get Time on his feet. “The noise will draw the others, we need to move.”

Time only grinned, still swaying. “Wolfie! Get th’ bad... th’ bad guys! Good boy! Steak f-for you!”

Warriors slung his arm across his shoulder again, noting the bandit running in the opposite direction and yelling all the while. Wolfie stood panting next to the discarded lantern, but Warriors didn’t stick around to wait for him to catch up.

He was just glad Wild’s... companion, was on their side.

He’d call him a pet, but the first (and last) time he’d said it, Wild had smacked him and Time and Four both had let out strange sounding snorts.

“Wolfie’s the best,” Time sighed, head lolling on his shoulder as they stumbled through the woods, shouts loud behind them. Warriors looked over at him, and Time smiled widely. “So fluffy. M’ proud of Twilight... ‘s a good descendant. Love him.”

Warriors didn’t waste breath on replying, though he did file the descendant part of Time’s rambling back for a later conversation.

A loud shout rang from close by, and Warriors yanked Time to a stop as lantern light shone in their faces, his heart falling as too many men to fight past suddenly encircled them. Warriors carefully deposited Time against a tree behind him, and looked warily around at the eager crowd.

“Well well, cornered like rats,” a woman said eagerly, eyeballing the armor Time wore with greed in her eyes.

“I don’t know who you lot think ye are, but a single mangy mutt ain’t enough ta’ scare us off,” a large man sneered, and Warriors carefully maneuvered his sword in between him and Time. “You two are loaded, and we’re more than eager ta’ help you lighten the load a bit.”

“And if I give you everything we have, you’ll let us go?” Warriors asked with steel in his voice.

Laughter rolled through the group, and the bartender Warriors had earlier been trying to get information from grinned maliciously at him.

“Sorry lad. Can’t have you spreading the word about our little town here, bad for business.”

“What did you put in my companion’s drink?” Warriors said in a dangerous voice, and more snickers went through the crowd of bandits.

“Just a little something to daze him s’we can take all that armor and he won’t even care. An’ kill him too, he won’t even realize!” one laughed, and Warriors felt his blood run cold. “That’s the best bit, they don’t even realize you’ve stabbed ‘em ‘til they’re dead.”

The woman who’d spoken first inched closer, and twirled a dagger between her fingers.

“If you give us all you got without a fight, we’ll make it quick for you, boy,” she said, something almost sympathetic in her eyes.

Warriors merely gritted his teeth and got into a defensive position, tightly clutching his sword.

The bandits jeered, and began to close in, torchlight flashing off the metal of their raised weapons. The number of them was just too much for Warriors to believe he’d truly get out of this, especially with Time to protect, but he’d fight until his dying breath if that’s what it took.

Maybe he could at least provide an opening for Time to get away.

Warriors spared a single glance out at the woods as their enemies approached, but it appeared nobody was coming to help them, the trees silent and dark.

Hang it all, where did Wolfie go?

As if on cue, a howl rang through the trees, making the bandits pause in their approach. One scoffed and continued forward, and the rest followed, only to be stopped again as a second howl rent the night, the first joining it in an eerie harmony.

Warriors raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sound, Wolfie has friends it seems, and the men exchanged nervous glances when a third howl joined.

“You lads afraid of a few beasts?” the bartender scoffed, and began to approach Warriors, leveling a large broadsword. “Not a courageous man among you.”

Warriors raised his sword as the weapon swung down, and suddenly an entire pack of wolves leapt from the bushes at the bandits.

Warriors didn’t even have to parry the blade as it swung at him, a wolf leaping up and closing its jaws around the barkeeper’s arm, the weapon falling to the ground.

The man yelled in pain, and more screams went up from the bandits as the wolves lunged for weak spots and nipped at their heels. Their yellow eyes glowed in the lantern light, and Warriors watched in astonishment as the wolves swarmed the bandits, but didn’t even touch him or Time.

The bandits broke rank only moments later, even the barkeeper turning tail and fleeing back in the direction of the village. Several wolves chased after them, tails wagging almost excitedly, but a few stayed, and looked towards Warriors and Time.

The captain swallowed as several glowing pairs of eyes stared at him (Wolfie wasn’t among them, had he gone with the others to chase the bandits?), but despite the blood on several muzzles, he didn’t feel in any danger.

Oddly enough, he felt... safe.

“Thank you?” he offered to the closest wolf, a large brown and white beast. It made a small chuffing noise and licked his outstretched hand, then turned away and began to trot into the woods, tail swishing behind it.

The other wolves followed, melting back into the shadows, and Warriors suddenly found himself alone, except for Time still leaning dazedly against the tree.

Warriors sheathed his sword with a tired exhale, wiping some sweat off his brow.

That was one of the strangest battles I’ve ever been a part of.

“I wanted to pet one,” Time suddenly spoke up in an incredibly sad voice, and Warriors turned back to him, sighing as he watched a few tears begin to gather in his eyes.

“You can pet Wolfie when we find the others,” Warriors said as he got to his side and patted his shoulder, and Time sniffled, then nodded.

“‘Kay,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand across his eye. Warriors lowered himself onto the ground with a tired sigh, leaning his head against the tree, and Time’s head flopped unceremoniously onto his shoulder.

“Gonna take a nap,” Time murmured, and Warriors nodded, pulling up his scarf and settling it over Time’s shoulders.

“Go ahead old man. I think we’re safe enough here,” he said softly. “You can rest.”

The bandits certainly wouldn’t be in a hurry to try and pursue them again after the wolves’ attack, and based on what the man had said, it looked like the drug Time had consumed merely needed to run its course. As long as Warriors kept an eye out while Time rested, it should be okay.

Here seemed as good of a spot to rest for a while as any.

A rustling noise caught Warriors’ attention, and he watched as a wolf poked its head out of the bushes, the same brown and white wolf that had licked his hand. It trotted over to them, then flopped onto the ground next to Time, resting its head on its paws.

Time’s eyes cracked open, and he extended a hand before Warriors could stop him, scratching the wolf behind its ears. It thumped its tail once, but kept its eyes open, staying at attention, and Warriors looked at it in wonder.

Was the wolf keeping watch for them?

It angled its ears towards him as Time’s hand withdrew, and Warriors blinked, then inwardly shrugged. If one of the wolves that had saved them wanted to keep watch, he’d let them. He trusted Wolfie, and he supposed he trusted any friends of his as well.

Though he had to admit this was one of the oddest situations he’d ever found himself in.

Time’s breathing evened out against his shoulder, and Warriors closed his eyes, feeling completely safe as a howl echoed off in the distance.

 (...)

It was only few hours later when the other heroes found their way into the clearing where Time and Warriors were sleeping, the wolf having left in the night.

Time was still out of it despite the rest, and dozed most of the walk to the rest of the heroes’ camp, falling back asleep immediately after arriving. Warriors told the others what had happened while he slept, and they made the decision to stay where they were until Time recovered, then try and deal more soundly with the bandits.

Twilight and Wild both had odd looks on their faces at the mention of Wolfie and his friends helping them, but they didn’t get a chance to say anything, as Time had woken up again. The older hero had quietly eaten something after he’d first awoken, but was now staring around at all of them with a dazed expression, his visible pupil oddly dilated.

“Is he still out of it?” Wind asked in a worried voice, and Warriors shrugged helplessly, leaning close to Time.

“Hey old man, how’re you feeling?” he asked carefully, and Time stared at him for several moments without blinking. Then his gaze flicked to Wind, and he snorted, shoulders shaking as he began to snicker to himself. “...Time?”

“Sailor, sailor you...” Time put a hand over his mouth, still snickering. “You haven’t noticed...”

“Haven’t noticed what?” Wind asked confusedly, and Time snickered even harder.

“You— you have a lobster on your shirt!”

Time fell over, clutching his sides as he laughed, and the other heroes stared at their oldest lying in the grass, laughing his head off at the design on Wind’s tunic.

“Er, Time, why don’t you come lie down again,” Twilight offered, and Time stopped laughing and stared directly at him.

“Five three two one four.”

Twilight blinked, and Time continued to stare, and the others exchanged bemused looks.

“What does that mean?” Hyrule asked, and Time sat up much straighter, looking around at them all with a serious expression.

“Five three two one four,” Time rattled off again, eyes still unfocused. “Twenty-three is number one, but two is when They appear, Four is a smithy and four giants are coming, but there’s only three days until the milk needs to be delivered and he’s always one second too fast no matter how the Keaton runs—”

“I think he’s still out of it,” Legend said in a deadpan as Time continued to spout nonsense.

“Wow, you think?” Warriors said sarcastically as he carefully sat Time up. “At least his fevers gone down, even if he’s... not making much sense.”

“Are we sure this is just going to wear off?” Sky asked uncertainly, watching Time babble something about seahorses and Zora eggs.

“I’ve seen something similar before, I believe it will,” Warriors said. “It’ll just take some time.”

“Six medallions, all for Malon, all aglow in the light of dawn,” Time sang drunkenly, head flopping onto Warriors’ arms. “Epona needs the mask but It’s my turn to wear it—”

“Ooookay, anybody else think it’s time he went back to bed?” Wild said, sounding equally amused and concerned. “Maybe he can try and just sleep the rest of this off?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Twilight replied, lowering himself to Time’s side. “Come on old man, you could use some more rest.”

Time blinked at him, then whipped his hand out and snagged Twilight’s arm, grinning as he gave it a squeeze.

“Tell Wolfie we appreciate him and thanks,” Time said earnestly, his hands shaking a bit as he patted Twilight’s cheek. His voice turned suddenly serious. “He’s my favorite. He should bite the moon.”

Twilight blinked. “Uh...”

Then Time abruptly slumped against Warriors’ shoulder again, a quiet snore escaping his lips. Several amused snickers went up from the heroes, and Twilight and Warriors both sighed in relief.

“This stuff better wear off soon,” Twilight said with an exasperated look, and Warriors nodded.

“I still don’t know how you managed to get away from all those bandits with him acting like this,” Sky said in disbelief, watching as the captain pulled a blanket up to Time’s chin.

Warriors sighed, and watched Time sleep for a moment, his face twitching slightly. A part of him couldn’t quite believe it either, especially seeing how Time was acting now.

“We wouldn’t have if Wolfie hadn’t managed to find all those wolves to help us,” he finally hummed, brushing some hair out of Time’s face. “I don’t think we’d have made it otherwise.”

Twilight hesitated. “About that, I... I don’t think Wolfie did.”

“...What do you mean?”

Twilight and Wild exchanged looks, and the champion’s voice was careful when he spoke.

“Wolfie was with me and Twilight last night captain, he couldn’t have been with you and Time,” Wild explained, scratching the back of his head. “We were nowhere near you, trust me, we would’ve come and helped.”

Warriors blinked, and looked over at Time sleeping on his shoulder.

“So what you’re saying is, a random pack of wolves just decided to help us?” he asked in disbelief, and Wild shrugged.

“I mean, that’s what it looks like?”

The heroes all mulled that over, going quiet for a moment as Time continued to quietly snore.

“That means almost all of us have either been saved or safely interacted with a wolf that wasn’t Wolfie now,” Four spoke up in a wondering voice.

“That’s kinda freaky,” Legend muttered, his chin resting on his hand from where he was seated across camp. “Why would they randomly help us?”

“You think it has something to do with us being the heroes?” Wind piped up. “Wolfie hangs around us, right? Maybe someone is helping us by sending more wolves!”

“What, like the goddesses?” Legend snorted, and Wind huffed.

“Well it was just an idea,” the sailor pouted, and Warriors ruffled his hair.

“Well whatever the reason is, I’m glad they decided to help us,” Warriors declared, and Time let out a loud snore. The captain chuckled, and leaned back against the log he was seated against. “I owe them our lives.”

A distant howl echoed from somewhere in the forest, and the heroes went silent again, Twilight’s ears twitching as another howl answered.

“I guess we might not ever know why they helped,” Wild murmured.

Twilight looked up at the sky, his ears still twitching.

“I guess not.”

[teine-mallaichte]

I've been thinking about the idea of Whumper using euphoric drugs on Whumpee and leaving them as "present" for Caretaker again. And it occurred to me - drugs can be really unpredictable, what if Whumper made a slight miscalculation?

CW: non-con drugging, drugged Whumpee, stressed Whumper.

Whumper’s plan had seemed straightforward at first—an almost poetic gesture of chaos. Get Whumpee high, deliver them to the caretaker’s house as an unexpected gift, and then watch the ensuing confusion from a safe distance. But what had started as a meticulously calculated scheme was rapidly spiraling into disaster.

Initially, the plan was working as intended. Whumpee had staggered, their laughter a high-pitched, disjointed melody as they interacted with nonexistent objects. Whumper had been amused, almost smug, watching as Whumpee’s inebriated state added a layer of absurdity to the night. But as they neared the caretaker’s house, the drugs’ effects intensified far beyond what Whumper had anticipated.

Whumpee’s movements became increasingly erratic. Where they had once swayed and giggled with a semblance of coherence, they now moved with a wild, unpredictable energy. They clung to Whumper as if they were a lifeline, their grip both frantic and desperate. Whumper struggled to support their weight, each step feeling like a victory snatched from the jaws of disaster.

“Come on,” Whumper muttered through gritted teeth, their voice betraying a mix of irritation and concern. They were so close to the caretaker’s house, its warm lights a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness. Yet the closer they got, the more Whumpee’s condition seemed to unravel. Their once-merry laughter was now a chaotic symphony of incoherent giggles and slurred phrases, their head lolling as they reached for imaginary objects in the night.

"Come on," Whumper muttered under their breath, trying to coax Whumpee towards the house. The words felt hollow, almost laughable, as they struggled to keep Whumpee upright. Every step was a battle, with Whumpee’s incoherent mumblings and sporadic outbursts of laughter providing an erratic rhythm to their progress.

Whumper sighed, "Whumpee," they forced their drugged companion to look at them, their unfocused glassy eyes and almost manic smile no longer amusing, "I need you to focus, we are almost there."

Whumpee’s response was a garbled mix of laughter and nonsensical words, their head lolling from side to side as if struggling to maintain even the simplest of coherent thoughts. Each attempt to move forward was met with a new challenge: Whumpee would stumble, laugh hysterically, or collapse onto the grass, clutching at it as though it were the only thing anchoring them to reality.

Whumper’s hands were trembling slightly as they gripped Whumpee’s shoulders, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. The weight of Whumpee was becoming increasingly unbearable, and Whumper’s anxiety was mounting with every misstep. They could just leave them there, they were so close to Caretakers front down. If Whumper went to ring the doorbell then Caretaker would almost certainly hear Whumpees laughs and giggles upon opening the door. It wasn't the original plan, but at this point the original plan seemed a distant dream.

Whumper took a deep breath, trying to steady their nerves as they realized the precariousness of their situation. Whumpee's condition was deteriorating rapidly, their laughter now more erratic and their movements increasingly chaotic. Every time Whumpee collapsed or veered off course, it felt like the whole plan was unraveling further.

"Come on, just a few more steps," Whumper said, their voice tight with strain. They tried to adjust their grip on Whumpee, who was now clinging to Whumper with a desperation that made every movement feel like a monumental effort. Whumper glanced at the caretaker's house, which was now only a few steps away.

The caretaker’s house was so close, yet each step forward was fraught with increasing difficulty. Whumper could already picture the scene: Whumpee sprawled on the driveway, laughter echoing into the night, drawing unwanted attention.

“Whumpee,” Whumper said sharply, forcing their drugged companion to focus. They held Whumpee’s shoulders, their eyes trying to pierce through the glassy, unfocused stare. “We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.”

Whumpee's head lolled to the side, their giggles turning into soft, incoherent mutterings. "I see… butterflies…" Whumpee said, their eyes wide and unfocused as they reached out to grab at imaginary insects, causing Whumper to stumble at the sudden change in centre of mass.

"Screw it," Whumper thought letting go of Whumpee and allowing them to crash down onto Caretakers driveway. They gritted their teeth, trying to steady their nerves. The plan had been to leave Whumpee in a state of chaotic but manageable disarray. Now, with Whumpee sprawled out on the driveway, the situation was anything but subtle.

The caretaker’s house was eerily silent. The soft glow of the interior lights cast long, stretching shadows across the driveway. Whumper knew they had to act quickly. If they rang the doorbell, the caretaker would almost certainly hear Whumpee’s laughter and incoherent mumblings.

Taking a deep breath, Whumper forced themselves to calm down. They approached the front door, each step feeling like a mile. They glanced back at Whumpee, who was now rolling around on the driveway, their giggles melding with their incoherent mutterings about butterflies and parties in the sky.

Whumper’s hand hovered over the doorbell, their heart pounding. They pressed it, the chime echoing into the night, and then turned on their heel and sprinted away from the scene, leaving the chaotic aftermath behind.

[sleepingdeath-light]

the power of suggestion ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 1381

content ; sexually explicit content, mirror sex, oral sex (fem receiving), piv sex, heavily implied dub con, character death

fandom ; scp foundation

pairing ; scp 953 / polymorphic humanoid x non binary amab reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

You shouldn't be here.

You really shouldn't be here.

You didn't even have the clearance needed to get to through the site door, let alone into 953's containment area — hell you couldn't even remember how you got in, just knew that you were here now and there wasn’t any hope of being able to back out. It was stupid and reckless and strictly forbidden by everyone who had even heard of 953, and you'd been briefed on that much a few dozen times by now, and surely you'd be heavily punished if not outright killed by the foundation if they found out you were here (if you survived) — so there really was no turning back.

Though, oddly, the thought of leaving didn't even cross your mind — not even as you knocked out your colleagues and forced your way through door after reinforced door to get to her, nor when you slammed your body against her containment room door in order to force it open when the mechanism stalled. No, instead your thoughts all focused on one singular thing; her. The fox with her nine beautiful tails and the gorgeous woman she could become and how you had to see her, know her, please her.

No matter how hard the small, rational part of your mind — itself just barely clinging to coherence and survival by this point and only just about being heard over the drowning cacophony of lust and need and someone else's words that weren't your own— screamed at you to back away and run the moment you laid eyes on her, you just couldn’t do it. Despite knowing how dangerous she was, knowing how much she despises humans, knowing that whatever she had planned for you couldn’t have been good, knowing that she was classed as keter for good reason.

And yet still, you couldn't stop yourself: stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her long, pale legs and massaging her soft thighs as they rested comfortably atop your shoulders; stop yourself from pressing the flat of your tongue along her wet slit as you licked a thick stripe along it, gathering her slick on the surface as you went and moaning at the flavour; stop yourself from wrapping your lips around her beautifully swollen clit and sucking on it with just enough pressure to have her arching her back; stop yourself from thrusting the length of your tongue into her sweet, tight pussy and groaning at every flutter or tense of her muscles; stop yourself from leaning into her touch and beaming under her praise as you ate her out; stop yourself from enjoying it so much that you could already feel your cock throbbing and aching beneath you as you laid flat on your stomach; stop yourself from chasing her high with more vigour than your own as you felt her thighs tremble and her breathing go from gasping to panting.

But you couldn't stop, not now, and you both knew it — you were too far gone, a lost cause in the truest of senses, and now as she's sent tumbling over the edge of climax you can only hope that your death is quick and painless. That this orgasm, that had her nails digging into your scalp and her legs wrapping tightly around your shoulders, would be enough to make her somewhat more merciful than normal. That this climax, that had her head lolling back so hard that you heard it smack against the floor as her mouth parted in a perfect 'o' and she cried out in two different tongues, could be your salvation. That this high, that had her squirting and gushing all over your face to the extent that even your throat and her inner thighs were drenched in her cum, would soften her heart enough to kill you without any additional suffering.

And soon she was finished, coming down from her high with a contented sigh as she let her legs fall limp on either side of your body and looked down at you with those dangerously dark eyes. Then, she suddenly reached down and grabbed your chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing you to turn your attention to the mirror you'd forgotten was there (was it normal or a one way mirror? You couldn't recall) and you realised that she wasn't quite done with you yet.

She wanted to draw this out for as long as possible — she wanted to play with her food, and you weren't in any position to deny her.

—————

Within seconds you were forcibly flipped over as 953 straddled your waist, slicing through your pants with startling ease and pulling your aching cock out to trace it along her soaking wet slit. Once. Then twice. And then a third time as you whimpered and groaned and helplessly grasped at her waist — barely able to look at your reflection, and yet unable to look away as she'd stop every time you did. She wanted — no, needed — you to watch as she sunk down onto your dick and took you completely in a single fluid movement; to watch as she made you a pathetic, moaning mess and played with you however she pleased.

But for as much of a mess as you became, you couldn't help but let your eyes stray past your own blown-out pupils and drooling, panting lips to stare at her reflection in the mirror instead. Letting your eyes drift up from the point where her pretty cunt was swallowing your cock and soaking the smattering of hair around its base, along the smooth expanse of her skin to her ample chest — watching as it arched, and rose and fell with every breath, unable to stop yourself from reaching upwards to play with it (to grope, to weigh, to pinch, roll and tease). Misty eyes flitting in triangular motions between her full pussy, her swishing red tail and her face — half obscured by messy tendrils of black hair, but you were still able to single out her soft lips as they twitched upwards into a mirthful grin and her gleaming yellow eyes that glared down at you with something more than just pure malice.

Hunger? Hatred, perhaps? Either way you knew you wouldn't make it out alive, so you resigned yourself to your fate — watching your reflection keenly as you felt yourself nearing climax.

Allowing your eyes to linger on your face: lips parted into a shaky 'o', eyes half lidded and so heavy you could barely keep them open, brows slightly furrowed with intent as you tried to will yourself to keep on watching.

Unable to stop your gaze from drifting again to watch as she swallowed and soaked every inch of your length, submitting yourself to the moment entirely as you finally let your hands fall down to her waist and started to fuck upwards into her tight cunt. Pace clumsy and jerky but more than enough to sate you and your heavy eyes and your clenching muscles and your throbbing cock.

The feelings and sounds and sights all so completely and utterly overwhelming that you found yourself climaxing soon after — pushed over the edge with a guttural groan and the clenching of her wet pussy around you as she fell over the edge once again. Climaxing so hard that your eyes clamped shut and your vision was overrun with splotches and smears and explosions of bright white light. Climaxing so hard that your hands clamped down on her sides and somehow managed to keep her still as you filled her to the brim with your cum. Climaxing so hard that your skin burned and your heart pounded so loudly that you weren't able to hear anything beyond its arrhythmic thumping in your ears. Climaxing so hard that your mind went blank beyond the foggy repetitions of her moans and whimpers — beyond the crashing waves of pleasure that wracked through your body over and over and over again.

Climaxing so hard that you didn't even recognise the sharp pain of her digging her claws into your abdomen and tearing your stomach apart — too caught up in your high to even realise that you were dying.

Not that you could have done anything anyway; you'd been hers since the moment you entered her room.

[solaxl]

Hii!! Happy new year :) Why is it you ship SolAxl? I'm just curious. (Mostly because it infected me when I first started playing Guilty Gear and I wanna know why)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! this is. A very good question i wish i could go back in time a few months and ask myself this. Not sure what caught my eye about them at first... axl i have liked since i first decided to get into guilty gear and i will leave that ramble for if i get questioned on that instead. SO FOR NOW. A DIFFERENT RAMBLE!

IDK its just so like. I LOVE their dynamic & tbh i cant view their relationship as anything Less than FWB at LEAST. And like... just the whole thing about being from around the same time, sol being essentially immortal, axl being a time traveler. In a sense they cant really lose eachother. i think theres something beautiful in that. Heres a probably less coherent message from me talking about that a month ago

Plus.... i dont see people address this as often as id expect. axl calls sol danna (旦那) in japanese. and yes, boss / chief from what ive seen isn't an incorrect translation and Honestly is probably the intended translation. but i'm fairly certain it can also mean 'husband'. I think about this way too much for it to be normal.

i also just really love how they interact in canon and . Well. this. theyre so special to me.

Yeah.... PLUS their interactions in Xrd!!!!!!!!! And strive. honestly.

theyre so cute i love them SO much!!!! Im missing a lot of stuff that further explains why i ship them and im not very good with my words but i hope this got some kind of point across LOLL tl;dr black cat orange cat

[alilbihh]

!!!!! um... I don't know if you want to write about new ones or not... but I also can't think of any new ideas since I'm freakin out a bit but I'll do some more thinking so.... um... a short little drabble or maybe a snippet of their lives in spring leaves after they confessed, how life is fr them now....?

i had a really fun time with this one, thank you to my designated spring leaves fan for requesting :) I hope it's up to your standards!!

masterlist

words: 1.5k

There is a quiet peace in marriage that you’re still coming to terms to.

It goes beyond learning each other’s habits, or making time for each other, or even whispered words of love. It is more the realization that you are loved— the knowledge that you can take care of yourself, but now, you are creating a space where you can take care of each other. That you could be trying to open a particularly difficult pickle jar and Jimin could take it and say “Let me help you,” that in it, there exists a prayer for which no words are said: You could do it yourself, but why should I let you, when I am here, and you are loved?

That being loved in this way is a choice, one that you both continue to choose.

Jimin chooses this, still, as he runs in tune with your pace, when you both know he could leave you in the dust.

(That morning, a gentle arm tries its best to slip out from under your head without waking you. When you groggily come to, even in your haze you can see the guilt on Jimin’s face. 

“Sorry,” He says, pulling his arm out the rest of the way to run a hand through your hair.

“S’okay,” you croak, cupping the back of his head to pull him back down to bed. He’s smiling as he complies, lets himself be pulled, be held, and when you wrap your arms around his neck, he wraps his arms around you, too.

Just as you’re trying to gather your thoughts into one coherent sentence, Jimin pipes up from where his nose is pressed into your shoulder, body twisted into an awkward angle as he leans into you, “Gotta go.”

“Where?” You say, then, “Oh. Running? Don’t go. Let’s cuddle instead.”

You feel his lips move before the words are even formed, feel the way they curve into a smile. “I can’t. And we cuddled all night already.”

“So what? Are you tired of me? Am I not appealing to you anymore?”

“So dramatic.” He laughs quietly. “You could always go running with me.”

You think for a second. It’s not like you don’t want to keep him company, moreso that if you were to try and get up, you’re pretty sure your legs would turn to jelly. You would barely walk, let alone run, given that it’s—you squint at the clock(oh my god, is that a seven?)�� well. Very early.

Except.

“I’ll run with you.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

“Yeah. Cuddle for thirty minutes and I’ll run with you.” He gives you a dubious look. “I’m serious! Set an alarm. Thirty minutes.”)

As he stops you from snoozing the alarm for a third time and practically puts your shoes on for you, you’d already accepted the fact that he’s well built. Jimin stretches, and jogs, and lifts, and it’s not like you can’t run, rather that you’d prefer to be doing, well, anything else.

Still, he works to match your pace, a gentle rhythm on the pavement as you make your way around the house, through the garden, past the greenhouse. Not through the forest like he usually does, since it’s dry around this time of the year, and the fungi would rather be left alone.

Well. A water break would be nice.

“We’re almost at our bench,” He’s saying, and you’re struggling to understand him past the need to lie down on the dirt and die. “We could rest up a bit and continue, yeah?”

“Good. Good plan.”

You practically collapse on the bench. You’ve sat here plenty of times, what with the way it sits neatly between the garden, the hydrangeas and the back of the house, but never have you felt so relieved to have leftover humidity and dried up dirt on your butt. You pat the bench in thanks. Good bench.

Your head lolls against his shoulder. “I don’t like you.”

“You offered to come! We made a fair transaction!” He laughs, his skin sun-kissed and sweaty and pretty. He leans his head over yours, “C’mon, it’s just a mile left, back the way we came.”

“A mile? Still?”

“It’ll be quick! We can walk the rest of the way.”

Your voice is muffled from how your cheek is pressed to his shoulder, “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of going on a run?”

“If you can be a smartass that means you don’t have to sit anymore,” He feigns getting up long enough to draw a whine from you, and he’s laughing when he leans back. You move to glare up at him indignantly, and take the opportunity to stare. He’s so bright. The sun rose twice this morning.

You bump your forehead back against his shoulder, and he seems to take that as an opportunity to kiss the crown of your head, hands working their way over your arms and down to your hips. “Still don’t like you,” You grumble.

Another kiss. “What was it you said to me yesterday? Something like...'You’re weird and that’s why I like you?’” Jimin presses a trail of them up to your jaw, letting them linger.

“A lapse of judgement.” You say, but you’re melting into him anyway, and when he laughs, it rumbles through his chest and down your throat all the way to the tips of his hands where they now touch your bare skin, the very edge of where hip meets belly.

“Brat,” He smiles against your neck, half-whispered. His hand trails down further until it reaches your fingers, playing with your wedding ring. Something fond flutters in your chest. “Do you ever think about our wedding?”

“All the time,” You say, voice embarrassingly breathy, but you’re too scraped raw to come up with excuses for it. “Still dream about it sometimes, too.”

“Yeah?” He says, soft, but there’s a trepidation, there. Like he’s still trying to find the best way to words his thoughts. You love that about him, so you hold his hand back, letting both your rings tap together delightfully, giving him the space to think. After a while, he continues, “I still regret those first few months. How I treated you.” You open your mouth to reply, take a breath and everything, but he pinches the skin of your hand to stop you, “I know you say I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Because that’s the thing about Jimin: he gives too much of himself away, loves too openly, too eagerly. Never asks to be more comfortable, as long as the other person is. His heart stretches to make room until it bleeds, like a mother’s womb, and you’re worried about what will happen if it ever were to stretch too thin.

(You’d told him, once— you don’t have to please anyone, you know— and, please, put yourself first sometimes, Jimin smiled, a little sad, said: I don’t know how, anymore.)

“I never blamed you for it.” You’re so close you can feel each time he draws a breath. It’s soothing. “There was nothing to forgive.”

“You say that, but. But.” He makes a soft noise. “I didn’t make it any easier.”

I am very much in love. It’s not new, nor a belated sort of realization. It was a belated realization at one point, surely, but not now. Now, it’s as worn through a fact as any other you know, something else to tuck away for safe-keeping.

You are in love, and so is he, and so even if the beginning was rough and unfair, everything that happened in your life that led up to it has been worth it.

You hold him a little tighter. “Not everything can be easy.”

For a moment you both sit there, listening to the gentle breeze, the distant sounds of the waking world. There’s a far-off chirp, like that of a baby bird learning to sing, and overhead, the early morning dew is giving way to a foggy sky. Spring is on its way again. Each one is getting easier than the last.

After what feels like a long time, Jimin raises his head. You stare. Not everything can be easy, but this is. Loving Jimin is the easiest thing in the world.

“Do you want to get married again?”

For a moment, you feel the world’s axis start to tilt towards the sun.

“What?”

He smiles, something slow and tentative. “Wll you marry me?”

Inexplicably, you laugh. “Again?”

“Again.”

“Jimin.” You feel Jimin grow in happiness. You feel like you’re growing, too. “If this is because you feel bad—”

“No. I want this.” He draws circles over your fingers, tightens his hold. “I want this very much.”

Never has the world felt so vibrant, and so, so lived in.

“I think.” You breathe. “I want that, too.”

(“Can we celebrate both anniversaries?”

“Brat.” Jimin laughs, all curled up around you. Has he always been this warm? “I’ll make sure to schedule the wedding on the same date as before.”

“What the hell!”

He’s still laughing as he kisses you, both hands cupping your neck, and there’s no hesitance in how he loves you.

You think, for a moment, about how every question you had about loving Jimin has been answered: He smiles into his kisses. He rolls his head back when he laughs. And—

He tastes like the sun.)

[rarepairnation]

LOLL i was gonna start like ‘hey there im denethor anon’ but u beat me to it. SIMILAR MINDS. Haha i read one of ur fics, was immediately smitten & was like i MUST follow them. (I’m glad i did, love the vibe of ur blog and the Flavour of ur opinions.. TASTY) so im a more recent follower but i’m gathering younger you weren’t a fan of denethor, huh? Can’t say i blame you. PJ certainly made some Decisions. he was like how do i convert a complex character into The most loathsome creature ever. He really did our fav gondorians sooo dirty. I literally watch through those scenes SEETHING in rage.

So I’ve been Thinking about denethor and faramir and nothing else for two days. like i am a denethor girlie. in my mind. spiritually. haven’t posted much abt him on tumblr. but nowww. you’re exactly right, ‘denethor Is a good leader…[insert ur paragraph here]’ yes yes yes you get it. listen denethor was a prideful, angry, resentful man but he was also valiant, resilient and noble. He guarded his city, alone (which takes GUTS, again, he was a badass!!), so well, for literal YEARS that Sauron was fearful/wary of him. i wish people were more understanding of him. he’s such an interesting character there’s so much to explore there. as you said the duty-vs-love, the weapon-first-person-next of it all. the layers. denethor as a weapon. denethor as a symbol of both sword/shield. AAHHH

BUT i think some people dismiss him hate him bc he is the mirror (the ugly side? if that makes sense) of humanity, of us. we ought to show him some compassion tho ‘cause havent u ever been taken under the darkness of life? felt the world slipping away & struggle to keep up w it? dont u ever feel hopeless? that things will never change, no matter what u do? DO YOU HAVE FEARS HAVE YOU FACED THE MONSTERS? WERE YOU ALONE, SCARED AND HOPELESS? AND HAVENT YOU MADE MISTAKES IN YOUR GRIEF AND PUSHED PEOPLE AWAY?? THAT’S what denethor experienced. He was described as a leader & a learned one at that for christ sake. He knew that evil was awaiting him and his kin and his people! he saw his future. yet. yet he soldiered on until. war declared. his sons killed (or so he believed). that’s when hope abandoned him. what was the point of staying alive now anyway? Evil was upon them, they would surely be tortured w a fate worse than death, so why should he not end the pain and kill himself? he fought the war against Time, Evil and The Dark Enemy himself and WON. he was a brave man indeed, to have fought these dark forces so much stronger than him. but he finally lost the war against Despair (and Grief), the cruelest of them all. imma cry 😭😭😭 no no no u don’t understand he didnt give up hope, hope abandoned him he- [GUNSHOT] (i don’t know how much of this even made sense lmao) anyway,

Faramir <333. do i even have to say anything about faramir? he’s the specialest little guy i love himm 🥰. On god i am one step away from rereading lotr just for him (plsss dont tempt me finals are in less than a fortnight) his and denethor’s relationship like u described my godddd XDD. fucked up familial relationships MY BELOVED. i am feral about this trope. the resentment… the jealousy… the mirror image of each other… the you’re-the-same-like-me-and-i-hate-that… mmmhm. hey do u ever think about 12 year old faramir admiring his father much the same way he did boromir and wishing he would grow up to be just like him? and do you ever think about 28 year old faramir knowing that he’s more like his father than anyone else and hating that? hating him? i do.

I’ll stop now lol im afraid my coherency has diminished by now. also sorry sorry for replying so late i am preparing for my exams. but rest assured i WILL be Rotating faramir around in my brain :3

hiiii denethor anon LOL this is the greatest ask ive ever received. every day i endeavour to provide only THE juiciest of opinions. aka this is my diary and you all are subjected to it. anyway im so glad you liked my fic i would love to know which one you read! i got into lotr via the films when i was super young so my past opinions were def coloured by The Choices. i have learned and grown since then<3 i was watching the book-to-film analysis vids on the extended edition dvds a couple weeks back and it made me so mad that i had to get up and turn off the tv. did you know there are other character options besides 'paragon of virtue' and 'one dimensional villain'...truly kind of a "nice dichotomy idiot! now what lies outside of it" situation. A Waste Of Your John Noble, To Be Honest. idk i still hold the films very close to my heart but the choices...i will simply respectfully disagree. and dont even get me started on faramir we WILL be here all night. another time. i have denethor thorongil situationship-fic to write. (i am serious about that) (i was simultaneously playing it 100% straight serious AND kind of joking about them. i shouldve known better. well.........we are so in it.)

you are so real for this. i have ALSO been Thinking about denethor and faramir and nothing else for days. weeks, even. sorry to everyone coming to the faramir goes to rivendell au for faramir and the fellowship the first 10k is literally just Keeping Up With The Stewards. we'll get there. i Will blame you for the impetus for my recent denethorposting on main but also encourage you to also do this. do whatever you want forever<3 nooo but straight up...guy who has so much strength and will that The Lord Of All Evil wouldnt contend directly against him and had to bring out the big palantir guns to bring him down. and if he'd not lost both of his sons i mean...who knows what would've happened. sometimes your sons ARE the only thing keeping you from killing yourself Do It For Them-style and lets be real that is a valid coping method. (i don't have an answer for that one and boy oh boy do i wish i did. it is going to become a massive thorn in my side in, oh, 70k or so when i hit rotk. well...i will blow up that bridge when i get to it.)

im actually putting a read more in this time bc this post broke a thousand words. continue at your own risk. there IS also faramirposting at the end here i promise.

just imagining denethor leading the siege of minas tirith. um. now stay with me here...riding out with imrahil's sortie. STAY WITH ME HERE. what do you think the livery of a steward going to war looks like. jesus christ i need to go lay down. yes i purposefully placed the read more before i decided to go momentarily horny on main. its also lowkey very vague au spoilers. sorry everyone but denethor IS canonically hot and we need to acknowledge it. Anyway.

denethor as a weapon denethor as both a sword and a shield...i am chewing glass for real. you GET IT. god i love person-as-weapon metaphor soooo much. When The Iconography Is Getting A Little Too Real. denethor as gondor, as her vanguard and standard-bearer and. i am straight up frothing at the mouth. all he ever wanted was to be a gentle lord in a time of peace.....and death was his reward...Sorry For Stealing The Fingon Death Quotation But I'm Right. so much of his behaviour and the strain on his relationships with his sons and all that is sooo...informed by the fact that to cope with having to be lord of a country at war he had to be so so unbending. he couldn't allow himself to waver, ever, not even for love, not even to save his sons.

did you know he was 21 when sauron returned. pov you are 21 years young and you have been alone all your life you are the steward's only son you are his strange numenorean heir and no one else has the LITERAL PSYCHIC POWERS AND VISIONS that you do and you have had to contend with that, alone. master your own mind, alone. learn how the shape of politics and lordship and life bends around you. and the dark lord the enemy who brought down your forebears has now set his eye on your lands again. Jesus Christ. How Would You Fucking Deal. sorry i would have a nervous breakdown and go and live in the desert. Man. TWENTY ONE? LIKE ME? most days i feel like a teletubby with a job and a credit card. if you scale it to account for numenorean lifespan inflation i mean i don't know how the math works but like. i bet it comes out to being like. 17. HELLO? basically everyone i know was barely a person at 17. the dark lord of all evil and he's MY problem to deal with?

i mean exactly. haven't we all been prideful and angry and resentful. haven't we all been there. once again [pippin voice] let's all understand poor denethor a little better. havent you ever been taken under the darkness of life [your paragraph here] yeah exactly what you said. the idea that he fucking won the war against the darkness and only lost to despair is..........so much! goodbye i have to go cry!

faramir, me AND fate's most special precious little guy....oh captain my captain....exactly. Exactly. i cant morally endorse a reread right this second but like. After. make it through finals and then it is Faramir Time. (and good luck! you got this!) tactical smartass little bitch master of both man and beast wizard's pupil (complimentary) star and hope and jewel of minas tirith knight in shining armour...my beloved. the idea that like faramir as presented, as the diplomat, as the scholar, as the numenorean, was supposed to be the one to go to rivendell...it haunts me. where is denethor sends the right son to do the right job.txt. he is gondor's no. 1 horse girl he is better suited to the wild than the battlefield he has read every sindarin text in the library he KNOWS the story of elrond and elros. he is literally telepathic and psychic and prophetic. thinking about him interacting with elrond and galadriel (and every other elf. but them in particular) makes me feel deranged. its very...self taught dnd wizard meets guy who went to wizard school energy. he's insane.

YEAH ITS CRAZY THAT THEYRE THE SAME GUY. it's. boromir gets to be boromir but faramir has to be denethor.txt. gracious and lordly as a king of old...now who is consistently referred to as noble and kingly...that a younger faramir would've looked up to...yeah. the perpetuation of denethor's second-best complex. i have a whole nother post in the drafts about that i CANT get into it here but jesus christ men who are NOT breaking the cycle. they even look the same. i mean 37 year old faramir as steward is 100% the spitting image of his father and that makes me....genuinely fucking insane actually. i mean like older councillors are doing double takes every time he walks by. i mean like sometimes people call him by the wrong fucking name. WOW where did that come from. the complex that that would give him...hello? turning this over inside my brain at WARP speed.

you are not late at all lol we are leaving little letters in each other's mailboxes to read when we have the time. i hope your exams go well!!! there will be more Faramir And Denethor Hours soon<33

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

HAI FRIEND

i’ve literally been obsessed w ur megumi smau since like chp. 14 or something LOLL,, i have this thing where i just psychoanalyze characters and ive been thinking a lot about yn like hm…

(THIS MIGHT BE A LUTTLE LONG BTW SO FEEL FREE TO JUST LIKE IGNORE THIS BUT I RLLY WANT TO TALK ABT HER)

like yn (to a lot of people) may be like a little intolerable but honestly i think the reason we have such a reaction to her personality like that is bc we see a little bit of ourselves in her if that makes sense…

PERSONALLY, I AM A YN DEFENDER FOR LIKE THATS MY HOMEGIRL.. like imagine you grew up in a world where soulmates are the basis of your romantic future. the sheer fact that that in itself already builds a sense of you either love your soulmate or hate them in someones head (considering that most of the time,, soulmates are portrayed as; first time you meet, you just know)

yn,, having met megumi long before you brain could have developed a coherent understanding of relationships, and lacking in the sense that when she met megumi,, she didn’t feel sparks like they said she would, obviously, she would categorize those feelings as hate. THATS WHY WHEN MEGUMI SAID “i dont think you really ever hated me either” HIT SO HARD FOR ME I WAS LIKE OH MY GOD…

BASICALLY WHAT IM GETTING AT is the fact that there is so much pressure already due to the fact that soulmates are said to be your other halves, so if you don’t like them, theres immense pressure and insecurity (hence yn’s hostility to the subject of her hating megumi because she has no comprehended idea of why she actually hates him) plus the fact that they met when they were kids and that probably affected the way she saw relationships in the first place EXPLAINS WHY SHE IS SO ADMENT ON BEING INDIFFERENT TO HIMMM

ok… another thing (sorry)..

AS MUCH as i love yn’s friend group,,, THEY LOWKEY PISS ME OFF THE SAME WAY YN PISSES ME OFF HELP..

OK SO,, obviously i’d also get pissed off if my friends get hostile bc i bring something up to want to understand them better, BUT at the same time, i would also have some sympathy 😢😢

LIKE,, their immediate response is to press harder, and try to solve the problem and if youre looking at texts like that thru yn’s eyes, it will prob lowkey feel like your feelings are being invalidated. yn is already confused, probably insecure about her love life, and now having to literally throw up her heart into her hands just for her friends to understand why they feel that way,, like she’s not gnna want to do that no matter how close they are (but maybe thats js me idk…) and then their immediate response to her not wanting to show that side of her is to get pissed off like i’d be mad and sad like yn too :(

i think those are all the points i was thinking sbt but if not im not gnna try to rmbr the rest bc this is alr super long.. BUT I HOPE U ENJOYED MY RANT AND I LOVE UR SMAU AND I LOVE U MUAH I HOPE U HAVE A GREAT DAY

I LOVE U I LOVE U I LOVE U

i absolutely ADOREEEE when people psychoanalyze the characters (mostly only when the analysis is correct tho LMFAOAO autism.) BECAUSE I DO THE SAME THINGGG i kinda have to when i’m doing plot heavy smaus like this to make sure everything fits n there’s the least amount of plot holes possible blah blah blah insert my annoying rambling on how i write

ANYWAY i loved ur analysis u r so amazing n so right ! like i get yn is annoying but lord have mercy so is everyone else that’s the POINTTTTT NO ONE HERE IS ACTUALLY IN THE WRONG OR BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE. EVERYONE HAS THEIR REASONING FOR WHAT THEY DO OR DONT DO!!! ugh sorry okay i’m gonna shut up now i could talk about this forever i fear .

I LOVE UUUU HAVE A GREAT DAYYYY

[mmriesoftvat]

"Kaedehara? Kaedehara! Hey, samurai!" Raven's been trying to wake Kazuha for some time now, and while the other man's eyes are open, he doesn't appear to be fully aware of his surroundings. There's a foggy look to those normally bright, crimson eyes that has the puppet suspecting that Kazuha is about as coherent as a Mondstadter who's had too many drinks, and the coughing fits that he keeps falling into are bringing back memories of a little boy who had perished centuries ago. Nearby, Rei is pacing back and forth, her worry apparent, though it's clear that she doesn't know what to do.

"R-Raven? Is... Is he gonna be okay... ?"

Grinding his teeth, Raven doesn't know how to reply. Will Kazuha get better? Or is he destined to meet his end far too soon? The puppet doesn't realize it, but he's trembling, fingers curling into his palms as he stares down at the ronin who he's knelt beside. No. No, not again. He's not letting this happen again--

"Rei, there's an inn nearby - that's where we're headed!" Not wanting to waste anymore time, Raven scoops his arms beneath Kazuha, bedroll and all, and bundles him close, glancing back towards the little girl. "Get on my back. Now."

Thankfully, she seems to be in no mood to argue, and her small arms are soon looped around his neck as he summons his anemo abilities, allowing them to lift him up off the ground before he soars through Dihua Marsh. If they were lucky, it wouldn't be too late to get the ronin proper treatment.

But only if Kazuha could hold on that long.

Everything feels sticky, warm, hazy. Kazuha had tried sleeping, but found himself pitching sideways into another reality. He's aware of where he is, or so he thinks. He can hear voices around him, voices that sounds far too familiar and yet, completely alien to him at the same time.

Toma?

There is a face in front of Kazuha, hands shaking at him, but Kazuha can't move. Is the face that of his passed friend? The looks are vaguely distant, but right now that's all Kazuha can think of. He's terrified, the feeling of paralysis is far too strong for his weakened body and mind to handle.

His dazed mind is conjuring up images of being caught in lightning's grasp. Though there's the absence of pain, Kazuha is trying to voice his concerns, that this is a repeat of that night coming back to haunt him.

"Toma," Kazuha manages to wheeze out. "I'm trying..." A coughing fit overtakes him again, and all Kazuha can do is curl up in those arms and hope he's being carried to safety. Maybe he'll be taken to Watatsumi island where Her Exellency can care for him.

Or maybe it's Captain Beidou carrying him to the Alcor, and far away from all this madness. Kazuha can hope. All he really knows and cares about is that the arms carrying him feel like safety, and he never wants to leave them.

He's unaware of the panic surrounding him in reality, that Raven and Rei both are worried for his health and apparent coming passing. Kazuha doesn't know he's being carried to Wangshu Inn to recieve medical care and a soft bed to rest and recover in.

In his mind, the only thing that matters is that this is the grip of his friend, carrying him far from Inazuma. Almost.

There's something that doesn't feel right about this. Toma feels different somehow, and his voice doesn't carry the same gentleness it once did. Had he been revived into someone different?

"Please don't leave me," Kazuha begs, trying weakly to grip at fabric around raven's arms. "Please don't leave me again." He tries to make eye contact, but even now, oblivion is threatening to overtake him, to drown him in a realm of nightmares and past horrific memories.

"Don't let her touch me-"

It's all Kazuha manages to force out before succumbing to a fainting spell, head lolling back and with rattling breaths the biggest sign that Kazuha's still alive.

[powderrblue]

i want you to lose like i lose when i play (what could have been)

title from 'what could have been' by sting

Hadlee cradled Paislie close. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, no files to update that couldn't be done tomorrow.

It was the same every day. Every maintenance worker who would get crushed in some pipe within the labyrinthine coolant systems. Every actor who had died a thousand times before, entered once more into the reviving schedule. Every caller who got the rehearsed, meaningless message that would inevitably get them brought in, killed, and worse.

She wondered what it would have been like if she had been the one to answer when Paislie had called the place looking for a job. If she could've told the sixteen year old to never call back, take her siblings and run, get away, anything.

It wouldn't have worked.

Nothing ever did, not here.

Not even when the company had found a way to cheat death and defy the nature of the universe.

Of course the one it had failed every time had to be Paislie.

The younger had stopped forming coherent sentences hours ago. Their breaths were too shallow and fast, their hand cold as Hadlee clutched it to her own chest.

Hadlee didn't want to tell anyone Paislie was dying again. They'd take them, and Hadlee would be refused any information for days on end without even a file of the ex-actor's to look at.

That feeling only got worse with time.

"Hal?"

"Yeah. I'm here, Pey-Pey," Hadlee murmured into their hair.

"Home?"

Hadlee wanted to scream, but she stopped herself with a deep breath. "I promise, Lee, if we make it out, I'm gonna take you home and we'll never look back, I promise you. I'm sorry."

Paislie's head lolled to the side as they made an effort to keep eye contact with Hadlee. "Not your fault."

The black-haired girl paused, picking up rocking Paislie again. She hardly dared to hope, but the other seemed more coherent than she could've possibly hoped for.

"Just hang on for me, yeah? Then you can be upset at me."

Paislie looked down slowly, then back up once more. " 'M I dyin'?"

Hadlee swore she could taste blood. This wasn't fair, this wasn't fair, it wasn't fair. "I'm not letting you. We're not going anywhere except back to work in the morning."

The younger frowned.

"I know, Pey, I know. We can talk later. I'm sorry."

"Stop," Paislie muttered, resting their head on Hadlee's shoulder with a dull thunk. "Nuh uh."

Both of them fell silent after that, and Hadlee moved to relax against the wall.

She couldn't help but wonder where Paislie's siblings were. If she ever got out, she had already sworn a million times over to find them. They'd all be between four and eight by now, if she had to guess.

If she were honest, she was probably most excited to meet Paislie's twin siblings.

She wondered how much they looked like Paislie.

And as she fell asleep, she hummed any tune she could think of and prayed to whatever was out there that this wouldn't be the last time she saw Paislie.

Hadlee hadn't been prepared when Showfall had really and truly been shut down.

She found herself questioning reality as swarms of government officials crowded the place, rapidly shouting orders and discoveries at each other.

All the employees were considered suspects for a long time. Hadlee hadn't realized how lucky she had been to land a desk job instead of- well, anything else. She would let it suffice to say that court-ordered therapy was for the lucky ones.

Paislie, along with tens, maybe hundreds of others, were found in the form of ashes with serial numbers on the boxes. What put a bitter taste in her mouth was the fact that some of them couldn't or even wouldn't be returned, whether that was due to not knowing whose ashes they were or as some form of evidence.

With the truth out, the number Showfall had set up was quickly shut down and given to someone. Hadlee wasn't sure it should've been reassigned due to the publicity, but whatever floated the guy's boat.

What had to have been the worst part was seeing her family again once the police had located them. It was like she'd come home for the first time all over again. Her siblings, her little brother, her parents, none of them knew who she was. All because Showfall had thought wiping memories would keep anyone from looking for her. All because they'd been right.

Returning to college felt like digging up some dead, alien part of herself; something that tore through every inch of her memory and dragged the imagery of thousands of bloody deaths through what had been familiar halls. She'd only realized it wasn't real when she snapped out of it to find herself nearly lying in her own vomit and a crowd of people standing close enough to suffocate her.

She didn't go back after that.

She felt like the world had packed up and moved on without her. The people she'd been starting college with already graduated with two-year, four-year degrees. Her high school senior class had been holding reunions every so often, probably a result of the closeness of everyone in the little county.

Sometimes Hadlee wondered if she was wrong for wanting to go back to the mall. Think about how she could've done things differently, stopped people from hurting people and being hurt.

Stopped Paislie from dying.

The younger probably would have survived if the employees had escaped sooner.

Her therapist always questioned her down that line of thinking every time she said so. Sometimes Hadlee could hear the man's voice repeating the same questions to her, over and over. She hated it. She hated knowing nothing she did could have changed that outcome.

With one last sigh, she dragged a large bag from under her bed, revealing the outfit Paislie always wore while they were fixing things.

Hadlee laid it out over her desk, ignoring the dusty, small spider webs stretching over her textbooks and laptop.

She felt an unnatural silence pour through her veins, shutting her feelings down where nothing would reach them.

Showfall had won.

"We're home, Pey-Pey."