#someone help he’s infiltrated my brain

[untolduttering]

Picturing trying to make out with Sanji during sex but we’re both too noisy so we’re just moaning and whining into each others mouths

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanon/s

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A/n: I genuinely couldn’t resist. I’m sorry.  This is also my first time writing headcanons that are NSFW! I hope you like it! And I based Sylus on that anonymous man that Rafayel was talking to, while it’s definitely inaccurate, I didn’t know where to base him from aside from the leaked trailer, I hope you like this one!

Masterlist

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader

Warning: NSFW Up ahead! This is for 18+ readers. Stockholm Syndrome, TOXIC! Obsessive love, unhealthy relationship. Degradation

Tell me if I left a warning out, I’ll update this immediately.

Credits: The line dividers are from Kaomoji; the art is from Love and Deepspace ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

SFW: ✧ He’s the kind of person who won't hold back. After you were handed to him like a free meal, he decided that whatever you discussed with Xavier and Rafayel would fail, and he’d ensure it. Even if the plan was to infiltrate Onychinus, he would absolutely make sure it failed.

✧ When Rafayel handed you over to him, he was so elated that he ordered his men to take you to his home as soon as you were drugged, where you’ll be kept trapped. Unlike the other male leads, he isn't upfront but rather lurks in the shadows, stalking your every move.

✧ Even though he acknowledges your capability and doesn’t see you as a weakling, he will ensure you remain completely obedient to him. If you try to escape, he will isolate you further, providing only food and water to keep you alive. In his view, isolation is the most effective method of punishment, especially if it means breaking your spirit to force your obedience.

✧ He despises you. He hates how you make him feel like he's dependent on your presence, while you, on the other hand, don’t even know him, to himself, you were his whole world. Sylus won’t tell you how easy it is for you to have him under your thumb.

✧ You may hate him for your own reasons, and he can see it in your eyes. Yes, he might have been responsible for the explosion that took your childhood friend and grandmother, but it wasn’t entirely intentional. He didn’t expect you to come home so early that day; it was a miscalculation on his part.  He won’t tell you that though, he likes seeing you so focused on him with an emotion you would never feel for the other men in your life. The hatred fuels him.

✧ Now while he’s lenient with you growling and squirming like a mutt, if you try to bite and hurt him back, he’s going to make sure to put a collar around your neck, you’re being a bad pet. He’ll make sure that you drop that disobedience before he’s forced to make it leak out of you instead.

✧ If you start to relax, or simply get tired of trying to escape, he will reward you by letting you go out with him. However, if you try to speak or ask for help, the collar around your neck will inject you with drugs that will turn your brain to mush, ensuring you won’t betray him in public. Not that anyone would dare to save you; he’s confident a few people recognize him.

✧ Oh, don’t take him as someone reckless though, he takes extra measures to prevent you from acting out. Once he implements those safety measures, he’ll be happy to buy you outfits that fit his aesthetic, or anything you’d like really. Sometimes he’ll be nice to you, only sometimes.

✧ I think it’s obvious how he shows his hatred and love for you in these headcanons, he’s going to make sure to tear down that confidence you have, he’ll break you. One of his methods would be to have you be eaten by guilt till you start blaming yourself instead of him. He’s good with his words, he wouldn’t be gaining such loyal followers without it. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

NSFW:

✧ BRAT TAMER TO THE FULLEST, he wouldn’t let you act out at all, if you tried, he’s gonna have you bent over the wall while he smacks your ass, making sure his handprint stays marked there. Till you can’t sit down comfortably, actually he won’t even let you test if you can sit down properly,  cause he’ll have you sitting on his lap, it can be during a meeting with his trusted companions, imagine a console table with almost 10 people along with him in front, while people are discussing their plans, you can’t even hear it properly cause of how deep his fingers are pumping in and out, his thumb pressing on your clit. If you let out a yelp he'd chuckle before nipping on your ear.

“Quiet, you’re distracting them” he’d murmur while squeezing your waist as a warning.

✧ While he gives off a vibe of being a dominant top if you want to ride him, he’ll let you, however with the condition that you make him cum before you do, which fails! Cause he has a pretty good endurance, you poor girl. Once he wins, he’ll flip you down, pinning your arms up while spreading your legs further, hand pressing on your soft tummy.

“Can’t even ride properly huh? You want me to do all the work pretty girl?"

✧ HATE SEX is one of his favorites, once you get the privilege to go out, if he ever sees you try to speak to another man aside from the bodyguards, he sent to watch over you while he’s busy, he’s going to use that as a reason to leave multiple marks on your body, specifically your neck. You can’t even hide it, along with the bite marks on your thighs. Oh right, not like anyone can see it, you’re forbidden from going out till he milks you of every orgasm he can pull out of you for the next few days.

✧ The type to finger you while you’re in public, if you’re wearing something short, like a skirt, he’ll lift it up, sliding his hand underneath your panty before fingering you. Make sure you don't make too much noise now, or people will notice, slut.

✧ He’s messy, the type to eat you out like a man starved, watch him suck on your clit while he pushes his fingers on your sweet spot, he had his arms wrapped around your thighs just so you don’t try to run away from his skillful tongue, the type of man to make you squirt and once he does he gets drunks over your taste, pulling away a bit just to look at you,

“One more, I know you can take it” he’d say before giving your puffy clit a kiss."

[munson-blurbs]

How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

--

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less. 

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless. 

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants. 

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four. 

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher. 

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again. 

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love. 

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him. 

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.” 

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?” 

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier. 

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time. 

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

--

[zepskies]

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SW Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @tipthejar

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

[cyanidedrinkers]

Wade Winston Wilson and Tony 'I am Iron man' Stark

I think a lot of people forget just how incredibly smart Deadpool is. This man was in the special forces, You dont get there by being stupid. Now, I know he was discharged but still. It's been proven over and over again that this man can put together an amazing plan and is a very quick thinker- Now: Give me Wade who knows how everyone sees him, Stupid, loud, annoying and lets them think that way. Give me Wade who's scared of showing that he can have a coherent thought even after the mutation and after his brain broke and after he started talking to audience. because he's built this facade and it's easier for everyone to expect nothing from him then for them to expect everything because he's scared. Give me Wade whos scared of rejection from not only his friends and family but his coworkers and those he looks up to so he plays the dumb card and the crazy card and he plays it well Give me Wade who thinks with his hands Give me Wade who has very precise hand signals, Some that came over from his special ops days and some that he's made up for himself, to think because his brain is so loud he has to voice every thought or at least make it physical in some way so he doesnt forget it Give me someone who learns his hand signals and uses that to put his ideas into place (backtracking to my later post about Iron man and Deadpool respecting each other) Give me Tony who notices his hand signals and little drawings on the edge of his notepad and voices them for Wade like their his own ideas, Not out of malice or because he wants to steal them but because he believes in Wade and knows he's a smart man Give me Tony who keeps Deadpool behind in meetings to ask for his opinion on the matter and implements that into his plan as well because you cant tell me Wade doesnt know the best way to infiltrate a highly secured base. Give me Wade who's eyes light up everytime his plan works because he's forgotten how smart he actually is Give me Tony who learns Wades hand signs and uses them in battle, like a secret code to each other Give me the others confused by why Tony and Wade are just staring at each other only for Tony to turn to them and tell them they're changing their entire plan Give me Logan or anyone really walking in on one of Wade and Tonys private chats to see Wade, map out, little marks via figurines that Tony made (They're replicas of everyone on the team to help Deadpool visualize better), giving precise and logical ideas and Tony just nodding along Let it be Tony and Wades secret that he's not stupid. He's a smart guy, smarter than a lot of people but the pressure of being smart never appealed to him Give me Wade who asks questions about Tonys tech and Tony asking questions about Deadpools healing factor Give me Tony who allows Deadpool into his lab and lets the man watch him until he falls asleep and Tony just draps a blanket over him Give me Wade and Tony who are two very intelligent but broken people understanding each other and having the others back when no one else will.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Forsaking All Others II

Part 12 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Kidnapping, TW: claustrophobia, restraints, gunfire, offscreen violence, blood, murder, smut, biting, a little bit of rough play.

A/N: woof

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up to what’s going on. 

You’d just been tossed into the trunk of a car, the darkness almost too suffocating.

Your brain spins slowly, reaching down, you fight your dress to tug off your heels, placing them beside you to use as weapons the next time the trunk opens.

The small dark space starts getting to you, and you’re forced to close your eyes and imagine that you’re in an open area, when you’re really not.

You know that you have to act quickly, tugging at the lining of the trunk, searching for the spot behind the brake light so that you can signal for help, but in the stifling dark, it's hard to see anything and you have no idea what you're looking for.

You pause, wondering if this car had a lever to release the door from the inside, and you begin searching for that instead, fingers skittering blindly for something you weren't familiar with.

You keep trying to imagine you're anywhere else but where you are, that you're just under the covers, or you're in your living room and the lights have just gone out, that you're under your sheets, waiting for Billy to come find you.

All of it helps keep you calm, stops the mindless panic from setting in, you know if you think too much about where you are, you'd hyperventilate, pass out, and who knows how long you'd be out for.

Another comfort you had, was that Billy was obsessed with you, he'd find you-

-Unless they'd killed him.

Your fingers paused their search. 

No, that intrusive thought was false, if they'd killed him, they wouldn't have been so worried about him.

What if he'd been hurt? The last time you'd seen him was when he'd stepped away to get you something to drink.

Actually, you'd chased him away, you wanted alone time from him and this was the consequence. What would have happened if you hadn't made him leave? You would probably be safe in his arms right now.

You choke on your breath, fingers slipping from their search to rest beside your head.

You let a few tears slip free, and more follow. You wanted your husband.

The car comes to a stop and you lift your head, you hear the doors slam shut, and you wonder what's coming next.

Oh god, what if they leave you in here?

Just as your stomach twists, the trunk lever clicks, and you squint as light hits your eyes.

The masked man extends his hand to you, and you take it, guessing that this must be the nice-ish one from earlier.

You struggle to get your feet out of the car, and everything hurts when you move.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers as you stand on the cold floor before him, “We were just supposed to take someone as leverage. It shouldn't have been you.”

You sigh, looking around the room, realising that you're in a garage with an automatic door, big enough to hold two vehicles.

It sort of feels like someone's house, maybe the suburbs, you spot a bike hanging on the wall.

“I'm the worst person to have kidnapped. My husband won't stop until he finds me.”

“I know.” Is all the man responds with.

You reach into the trunk to grab your green velvet heels, too in love with them to leave them behind.

He takes you into the house, you stiffen in fear as you realise you're trapped in here with a bunch of strange men.

“Please let me go.” You say calmly, trying to be the voice of reason, “You don't want the trouble of keeping me here.” 

You want to add that Billy was trained in hostage retrieval, that he was basically an expert in infiltration, but you didn't want to scare them. Scared men were dangerous men.

The men stand in the living room of the small house and begin speaking in hushed tones to each other. You can't make out exactly what's being said but it seems like one of the men is sympathetic to you, but the other two are not.

“Take her upstairs and tie her up in one of the bedrooms.”

You feel your heart jump in your chest. You turn to the man behind you, who'd released you from the trunk, in hopes that he challenges the order.

He wraps his hand around your arm.

“You heard the man.” He says in acceptance.

There's no winning here, you're overpowered and you know it. You don't want to give them any excuse to hurt you further than they already have. 

You move quietly up the wooden staircase and you wait for the man to pick a bedroom.

“I'm not… trying to scare you,” you say softly, hoping to reduce the amount your voice carries in this small house.

“But my husband… he won't take kindly to this, he'll do whatever it takes to get me back.”

“I don't doubt it,” the man responds, tugging you into a room with a large window overlooking the street at the front of the house, “I'm sure he probably has a location device installed in that ring we took from you. He probably always knows where you are.”

You blink, scrunching your eyebrows at his tone.

“What are you trying to say?”

He grabs the metal chair at the vanity and points to it for you to sit.

“Not trying to say anything. Powerful men don't trust their wives. That's all.”

You swallow, looking up at this stranger, unable to form a response.

“He tracks me because he loves me- in case something like this happens.” You finally manage to say.

His shoulders shake as he laughs.

“You're more delusional than I expected.” He pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and uses it to secure your wrists, “You think he'll kill us because he loves you? Or maybe he just likes killing?”

You feel your heart sink.

“You'll get what you deserve.” You whisper bitterly.

“Yeah? And what will you get?” He shoots back.

You clench your jaw, turning your head away, indicating to him that this conversation was finished. 

He humphs in satisfaction, walking out of the room, closing the door and locking it.

Leaving you here, in mostly darkness, to think about what he said.

The words hurt in a familiar way, that perhaps Billy's obsession with you was not because it was you, but because he’d been craving something to be obsessed with.

What if… you weren't the first woman that he'd done this to? What if there was someone else out there, living, or perhaps dead, that he'd found a way to trap as well?

Why were you thinking this way? Billy wasn't some evil mastermind, he was just a lonely boy that wanted someone to love.

Was he?

You shake your head, gritting your teeth. 

Now more than ever, you needed to find the good in him, you needed to remind yourself of seeing that lonely, scared boy when you looked into his eyes.

It was proof that he wasn't what everyone else said he was. He wasn't some monster, he was human, and he just needed support.

You sigh, heart yearning for him, to be held, to be kissed. 

Sure, you clearly had some issues and doubts, but you could fix that on your own time, after he saved you from this situation.

You close your eyes. There was a high chance he'd kill the men who'd kidnapped you. It was an eventuality you had to be prepared for.

Would he kill for you because he liked killing? Did it matter? Was that the stockholm syndrome talking?

You frown, tipping your head back, trying to relax in the uncomfortable chair.

Did you love him?

You wanted to so badly, but was it real?

How far would he go to keep you by his side?

How far did you want him to go?

It was frustrating. You really needed to find a way to bring this up with him. It would destroy any relationship you had if you kept bottling this.

You sigh, opening your eyes. You can’t believe you’re actually thinking about solving your relationship issues while handcuffed to a chair after being kidnapped. You might be just as insane as him.

In the darkness of the room, with only the outside street lamp illuminating the bed, the flash of red catches your eye easily.

You blink in surprise, studying it, the single red dot of a laser, watching as it glides over the walls and moves behind you. 

When it appears on your thigh, you drop your head to keep looking at it.

A laser? Was someone just shining a laser pointer at you?

The laser moves up, over your stomach, and you swallow, realising that this might very well be a gun being pointed at you.

You angle your head to keep your eyes on it, the red dot stops in the center of your chest for a moment, before it moves to the spot just above your left breast.

Were you gonna get shot?

The glowing dot makes a circle, and then works its way over your left shoulder, and toward your elbow before stopping and retracing its path, stopping at your chest once more.

Billy.

It was him, telling you he was here by tracing his tattoo on your skin.

You sigh in relief, tears threatening to fall, you try to blink fast to chase them away.

Your husband was here, and he was going to punish the people that would dare hurt you.

It brings a little smile to your face, and then you watch the laser move, circling on the lamp sitting on the bedside table, an indication that he needs something from you.

You study it for a moment, and you figure he must want you to find a way to drop it, the crash would probably make a small distraction.

Looking out the window, you nod, unsure if he can see you or not, but the laser disappears soon after.

The house is mostly quiet, you can hear the muffled sounds of the men below talking, and you wonder how well a diversion like this would work.

Like in the movies, you lean forward, and try to stand up with your wrists trapped behind the chair.

It was one of those light metal chairs with a simple curling design on the back. The masked man had handcuffed you between the woven design so that anywhere you went, the chair went.

The movies definitely made it look easier, and you almost want to laugh at how ridiculous you felt, hunched over, your wrists hurting where you have to drag the chair along behind you.

You make it though, and you sit on the chair, carefully lifting a leg, impeded by your dress a little, and you tug the lamp off the nightstand with your foot.

It crashes spectacularly, and you hear the voices pause, before absolutely nothing.

They're moving quietly, you guess, but no one makes it to the door before a loud bang goes off below you.

It's almost deafening, even from where you are, your ears ring, your heart races as you hear the gunfire start, but you don't hear any answering rounds.

The house goes dead silent, and you can't hear anything over the ringing in your ears, it's a few moments before it subsides, just in time for the door to open.

It's slow, and in the darkness your breath stops in your chest before you catch sight of his familiar face.

Billy.

Your heart accelerates, elation fills your chest as he spots you after scanning the room for threats.

“Took you long enough.” You say impulsively as he approaches, sheathing his gun into the waistband of his fancy suit, wearing leather gloves and a bulletproof vest over his gala attire.

By the gods, you didn’t think he could look hotter, but the mix of combat gear and fine clothing has you clenching around nothing.

His mouth curves up into a small smile at your words, hair falling into his eyes as he fishes keys out of his pocket to unlock your cuffs.

He seems a little off, still tense, he moves behind you to set you free.

You stand as soon as you’re released, turning, you fling yourself into his arms as fast as you possibly could.

He returns the vigour just as swiftly, his arms coming tightly around your body, squeezing you.

It’s relief like no other, the knowledge that you were going to be okay, that he was, however bruised you both were, you were both okay now.

You feel him press his face to the top of your head, you eagerly breathe in his scent, mixed in with gunpowder, blood and sweat, your stomach twisting in pleasure.

There’s still so much darkness in his eyes when you draw away from each other, and you’re not too sure why, but maybe it’s something you can deal with later.

You open your mouth to ask him something, but he grips your jaw gently, dropping his head to press his lips to yours.

Every thought flies right out of your head. Your fingers curl against his bulletproof vest, pulling him closer, sparks going off in your head as you rise up onto your toes to keep kissing him.

You sigh into his mouth, and he hums in response, need curling inside of you, his hand moving slowly to cup the back of your neck.

So many things are said in those few moments when no words are spoken. I’m glad you’re okay, I was so worried about you, I love you, I just realised I can’t live without you.

He pulls back a little, nose brushing yours, forehead to forehead and you swear you can feel him like he’s just an extension of yourself. 

“Let’s go.” He finally whispers, and you nod, reaching to grab your shoes once more, that you’d placed on the floor next to the spot the masked man had originally restrained you.

The house is smoky, you cough, frowning as you follow him down the steps, waving your hand to fan the irritant away.

He stops at the bottom, and turns to you, picking you up with ease, and continues moving. The floor is covered in glass and wooden splinters that crunch under his shoes as he walks.

You finally spot the four men, on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Their masks have been pulled off, finally revealing their faces to you.

You feel a little bad for them at first, the hopelessness in their eyes turns you nauseous. You wonder if he’s going to kill them.

“Sweetheart.” Billy murmurs into your ear, catching your attention. You turn to look at him.

“Show me the man that hit you.”

How would you know? You definitely couldn’t identify them by their looks. You swallow, trying to figure out how you knew earlier.

The eyes, you realise. Aside from the mannerisms and their voice, the man that had hit you, had so much anger, and so little soul.

You glance at the men, finding him easily, he stares back at you evenly, furiously, and you know it’s him without a doubt.

“Him.” You whisper, looking back at Billy.

He nods, moving to the garage before placing you down gently.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Something’s still off in his eyes. There’s an anger he’s trying to shield you from, and you realise without a doubt, that he’s going to kill someone.

He closes the door between the house and the garage. It doesn’t stop you from stepping up close to the door in an attempt to hear what was going on.

You try the door- locked. 

Behind you, someone clears their throat.

You spin in surprise, breath halting, but quickly restarting when you realise it’s Frank.

He’s dressed in full tactical gear, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Trust me. You don’t want to see what he’s about to do.” Frank says gruffly.

You turn back to the door.

“He’s really going to kill them?” You ask.

“Eventually. First he needs to get a message across.” 

You gasp, when on cue, you hear a scream from inside.

Stepping back in shock, your eyes widen.

“Is he doing this for me, Frank? I didn’t ask for this.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

You turn to Frank, mouth open to protest.

“This- I know he’s killed before- but, I don’t think I want him killing for me.”

Frank lets out a slow breath, crossing his arms.

“You have to understand, men like Billy and me- family life doesn’t come easily to us, we have to fight hard to keep it. And if someone comes along and thinks they can take it away, we show them, exactly why we have the reputations we do.”

You swallow, turning back to the door when you hear another shout. You wonder if his words are related to the scar on Maria’s face.

“They think you make him weak, they think they can come after him now because he has someone he’ll bend for. You don’t make him weak. You make him deadly.”

Your heart warms at the thought, you turn to look at Frank helplessly.

“What can I do?” You whisper.

“Remind him that he’s not the monster everyone sees him as. He’s going to need that from you.” Frank answers.

You let out a slow sigh, nodding in acceptance.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d take this so well. I thought you’d run screaming for the hills when you finally saw the real him.”

You smile sadly. He’d never really hid himself from you in the first place. 

If only Frank knew that- you wonder if his words would be different.

“I guess… maybe there’s something wrong with me too.”

“It’s a good thing,” You look up in surprise at his words, “Means you understand each other.”

You hum, deep in thought about his words, worried about the cataclysmic fallout that could happen if Billy ever found out about those divorce papers you have hidden.

After a few more minutes of muffled screaming, the door finally opens.

Billy, blood splashed beautifully against his face, steps through, a paper towel in his clean hands.

“You okay with cleanup, Frankie?” He says, barely looking at you.

“Yeah,” Frank answers, “Get your girl home. I’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks.” He finally turns to you, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it up for you. The silver glints in the light.

Your ring.

You extend your hand bashfully letting him slide it on, heart pounding in your chest. He’d done all of this for you.

Your fingers link with his right after, following as he moves to open the large garage door. It slides open to reveal a matte black car waiting just outside.

It’s an audi, you recognise by the four rings, but it’s not one of his you’d seen before.

He wraps a hand around your body, lifting you easily and carrying you the short distance to the car, helping you in, before making his way around.

You tug your seatbelt on, watching in surprise as he reaches under the steering wheel, manipulating something before the car purrs to life.

Good lord, he stole this car? You want to verify your thoughts but you decide against it, instead, you watch him put the car into gear, and begin reversing.

It’s peaceful to watch him drive, you want to smooth the lines between his eyebrows, you want to reach over and take his hand, but you’re worried for some reason.

This isn’t the man you’re used to. The darkness in his eyes make you concerned about setting him off- not that he’d take any anger out on you- but that he might grow tired of your pestering.

So instead, like the usual coward you are, you simply look at him as he drives.

“I didn’t see you during the robbery. Where did you go?” You ask softly.

He takes a deep breath, glancing over at you.

“I had some guys there as backup. They found some of the Phoenix guys knocked out in the basement. I went down to check it out. They locked us in. When I got out, you were gone.” 

You nod, the pieces fitting into place.

“I never should have left your side.” He finally says, squeezing the steering wheel tighter.

You reach for him, placing your hand on his thigh.

“It’s not your fault.” You soothe.

He lets out another breath, shaking his head.

“I… didn’t realise what losing you would feel like. For a moment, I didn’t know where you were, if you were alive- I would have torn everything down to find you.”

“I’m right here.” You answer, and you watch him take another pained breath.

.

He’s distant in the elevator, and you think you understand now. He doesn’t know how to process this- almost losing you- you don’t think he’s ever felt this way before. He’s angry that this happened maybe, and that darkness is slowly festering inside of him.

When you finally see yourself in the bathroom mirror, you realise that your appearance had only been adding to his distress. You look properly thrown about, your hair sticks up and your face and arms are bruised from the mishandling.

You hear a knock on the bathroom door, finding him there, staring at you.

Splashed in blood, his gloves and bulletproof vest gone, he looks at you with concerned eyes.

“Need any help?” he asks.

“Yes,” You say almost instantly, turning your back to him so that he can get the zipper of your dress down.

You don’t hear him approach, but you feel a tug on the back of your dress, and you pull the garment off your shoulders.

You’d been wearing boob tape, and you raise your hands to cover it, a little shy about him seeing you in something like this.

“Don’t.” He murmurs, taking the little bottle of oil from your hands just as you reach for it.

“Show me what to do.”

You swallow, guiding him into carefully using the oil to remove the tape. Even though his hands are on your almost bare form, there’s nothing sexual about this, all there is, is care and attention to taking care of you.

His thumb massages the oil into your skin, and when all the tape is removed, he hesitates for a moment before withdrawing his hands.

Your hip and knee is bruised too, you discover, as he gets the dress down your legs. You’re no doubt going to be in a lot of pain tomorrow.

“Shower with me.” You say, ready to beg if he says no.

He doesn’t, he smiles, nods, reaches for the buttons on his shirt.

You step into the shower, finding the right temperature, reaching up to begin unravelling your hair.

You feel his hands take over, tugging out the bobby pins, the way he did on your wedding night, letting your hair fall freely under the warm water. 

You turn to look at him, blood washing from his skin in pink rivulets, you watch each other, amazed at the beauty of him in every state. You glance at the tattoo on his shoulder, the snake, with its fangs bared, ready to strike.

You touch it gently, he drops his head to watch your fingers roam his skin.

There isn’t anything that needs to be said, even after all this carnage, you know you still want him.

Or so you think.

You withdraw at that thought, but he doesn’t let you, he grasps your wrist, pulling your palm back to his chest. When you can’t meet his eyes, he holds your jaw with his other hand and forces you to look at him.

“Don’t pull away from me.” He grits out.

You sigh.

“Or what?” You challenge.

He leans in, pressing his mouth to yours harshly, you moan, eyes fluttering shut, your nails curling into his chest.

He hisses, biting on your bottom lip in response, you smile into his mouth, your other hand moving behind his neck to tug harshly on his hair.

He grunts, presses you back until you bump the wall of the shower, you look up at him, with pleading eyes, begging him to fix all the things going wrong in your head.

He pins your wrists beside your head, the darkness in his eyes shifting from internalised anger and fear, into something sweeter.

“Do you want this?” he asks lowly, releasing your wrist for a moment to push his hair back, out of his face before finding your hand again.

“Yes.” You answer confidently, wriggling a little so that he holds you tighter.

His mouth meets your neck, kissing softly, tongue darting wetly across your skin before bites down on your shoulder.

The moan you let out comes from a primal place deep inside of you, angling your neck to give him space to continue tormenting your skin. 

Though his moves are firm, and his bites are rough, he’s especially gentle when handling you. When he trails his hands down to touch your clit, he softly traces over your bruises along the way.

You gasp when his fingers meet your clit, gliding softly at first, before he traps your swollen bud between his index and middle fingers and squeezes gently.

You stutter out a moan, reaching out to grip his shoulder, pressing your nails in to show him just how wicked it feels.

He chuckles, a lone finger slipping into your cunt as his other hand cups your cheek, thumb hooking into your mouth and settling between your teeth.

You bite down a little as he begins pumping his long finger into you, pressing against just the right spots, making your shudder eagerly in response.

“You think you can leave me?” He asks calmly, “You think you can get this feeling anywhere else?”

You shake your head, knowing the answer without a doubt.

He lets out a groaning breath, the sound coming from a place deep in his chest.

Your eyes roll back in your head when he curls his finger, pressing that delectable spot deep inside of you, rubbing it harshly for a moment before withdrawing his fingers.

He grabs some shampoo, kissing you softly while he works it into your hair, smoothing it away before using conditioner. He makes sure to clean you both, before he turns the water off, picking you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steps out.

He holds you firmly to his wet body, grabbing a towel for you and your hair, before picking you up once more and placing you gently on your bed.

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, or think, kissing his way over your body, before spreading your thighs open for his mouth.

He groans into your cunt as he licks it slowly, encouraging you to reach down and tug on his hair.

Your nails dig into his shoulder, his tongue working magic on your swollen clit, licking eagerly at your bundle of nerves until your toes are curling and your back arches.

“Billy- oh god-” You moan, your orgasm hitting you swiftly in the moments right after. It’s so powerful, you can’t stop the noises that leave you with each wave of bliss that hits.

He kisses your thighs when he’s done, straightening his body, hovering over you, guiding your thighs around his hips.

His cock brushes your entrance. You gasp, the sensation making you shiver needily.

“That’s it, little wife. Say my fucking name.” He grunts, rubbing the head of his cock over your entrance teasingly.

Your nails claw at his biceps, trying to get your desperation for him under control.

“Please, Billy.” You say, almost in tears at how badly you need him.

One of his hands grip your jaw as he leans in to kiss you harshly, pressing his cock in at the same time.

You claw at his back, pulling him in, reaching down to grip his hip, to pull him in deeper.

He groans into your mouth, he moves to press his mouth in close to your ear.

You hear his breathing stutter, a small keen as he fills you to the brim.

“I love you.” He gasps out, shuddering as he draws back a little to press into you again.

His cock fills you just right like it always does, and you feel your walls clench around him the more you hear how hard it is for him to breathe when he’s inside of you. 

The power you have over him doesn’t go unnoticed, he groans loudly the next time you tilt your hips upward.

He takes it slow, easing himself in, before withdrawing. You don’t like that, wrapping your legs tighter around him to keep him where he is.

“Fuck, sweetheart, fuck. You feel-” He groans, “You feel so fucking good I’m not gonna last long.”

You know the sentiment, even with his hips rocking slowly, you already feel like you’re on edge, mind hazy, your body ready to reach that peak at any moment.

He kisses you more, moaning into your mouth, slowly beginning to rock his hips more, his thrusts growing more forceful as time goes on.

“So good for me baby.” He murmurs, biting down on your shoulder again.

You gasp, tears slipping down your cheeks as you feel your body burn, the heat you feel for him growing more and more intense until you can’t take it any more, cunt squeezing his cock tightly as you come, trembling uncontrollably.

He groans above you, and you feel him come too, emptying himself into you, filling you up just the way you need.

He kisses any part of you he can reach, waiting for you to calm down, stroking over your damp hair, making sure you feel every ounce of love he holds for you. 

When you’re calm, and your eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you he’ll be right back, grabbing a warm damp cloth to clean you up with, before tucking you into bed.

You can feel the exhaustion in him as well, the way his body sags in relief when he finally settles into the space beside you, your hand smoothing gently over his back and neck, and delving into his hair.

There’s nothing you want more than this moment, nothing you crave more than the feeling of being beside him.

You tell him you love him too, just before you fall asleep. You know your body will hurt lots in the morning, but at least for right now, you’re safe.

.

.

.

[dadsbongos]

Idk if u do anon requests given ur rules but I am a scared lil guy when it comes to sending ppl asks. I know you don't need to feel obligated to write it, but I wanted to share my silly little musings with someone at least, if you don't mind ^^

My brain doesn't want to shut up about the idea of a monster reader akin to Anansi's goatman joining the Touden party with malintent, only to be intimidated out of their plans by the fact the party constantly eats monsters. Despite them wanting to run, they're stuck there because the party will realize they've been infiltrated and probably eat them like all the other monsters if they find out.

i absolutely love anon requests! they are so lovely to receive i just kind of write depending on my current interest at the moment

3.4 k words / warnings - gore right off the bat, reader goes through psychological horror at the hands of laios touden, laios forcing the party into extreme situations

summary - that time laios domesticated a monster and everyone was mad at him. ~~~

You’re starving. You’re parched. You’re dizzy.

A woman is screaming in the corner, her eyes bulging from her head and hands clamped over her gaping mouth. Knees wobbling before she collapses to the ground, palms scraping against the floor in a final ditch effort to save herself. She screams louder when your head slowly rolls -- slanted eyes still on her frantic form.

Long fingers scoop from the bowl of a half-foot’s gut, you cup shreds of meat and stringing firm, warm innards to your mouth while maintaining focus on the woman.

No matter how much you eat, you’re starving. No matter what you drink, you’re parched.

The only solace you find in hearty meals is that the pressurized ache behind your skull fades, and with it goes the dazed sensation. You can walk firm and tall. You can stretch out and speak.

You can speak, “Come… here…”

She freezes. Wide eyes scrambling over you. Chest twitching with hyperventilation, “We gave you the half-foot! What else do you want?!”

Swallowing chunks of gummy flesh trapped in your teeth, you speak again, “Come… Now… Come…”

“No, please,” she whimpers, snot and tears dripping, “Please, please, please!”

She rocks onto her back, tumbling around to her feet and sprawling for a weapon. She finds one the big man used, she holds it up and her arms shake under the weight. She doesn’t pose a real threat that way -- she hadn’t lifted a finger to help the group fight.

Rising onto two feet, you tower over her and reach out, cupping her face with both hands. Thumbing the fat on her cheeks and pulling her ears, you croak,

“Mine…”

. . .

A red dragon used to plague this floor, you don’t hear him anymore. You feel confident to venture from your cave for more meal.

Recently, the hunger has gotten so bad you’ve begun drooling over yourself. Despite not caring for your appearance, the feeling is bothersome. The sensation of saliva-matted fur around your muzzle reminds you of the vacancy in your stomach.

Bravely creeping from the lulling warmth of your cavern, you come into the open grass and watch dire wolves nose at Barometz stalks. Unripe, ruby fruits shine under leaking light from higher places. Gold bounces off the fur of ripened fruits. You’re sure they’ll be harvested soon. Your only derision with unripe Barometz fruits is the smaller lamb. Even then, you cannot complain when the wolves more than make up for a lack of meat.

Just as you set to slide down the mossy wall, a red blur hastens toward the middle of the field. Large, pointed black ears twitch which gives you pause. The pale skin you can make out and thick cloth stresses to you that it's a human, but those ears and the hunched posture tell otherwise. Either way, it will have meat.

A man approaches, rushing behind the red blur, his tin shell clinks as he runs. He’s yelling. He can speak.

Long, gold hair and blue furs run after him -- two more men after the blonde woman. A group. A group made of thick bodies, sans the weird-looking red one and the child. No matter, they can fill your shriveled intestine while you divy the thick ones.

Or perhaps just the stout one could fill you. His broad frame is swollen with muscle and he looks well-kept: strong and lively.

Just the thought of cinching his fat thigh makes you swallow another well of spittle. As the wolves close in, the red and blue ones cut from the group, and you merely watch. Dead meat is still meat. If one party kills the other then all you have to do is interfere before they start eating their game.

The tin man gets low, on all fours, before yelping and barking like a rabid beast. He snarls and flails -- startling away the few wolves straggling behind.

After robing, you slide down the crag only to hiss as jagged rocks snag new skin. Spending so much time in your natural form makes the transition to a new face that much more difficult to acclimate to.

You’d lick up the thin blood trails if the three remaining bodies weren’t now gazing at you in shock.

The furthest away, the brown-headed child, scowls at your very presence. While the tin man seems to be fighting back an eager approach.

“Who are you?” the child bites from the back of the pack, eyes narrow and harsh.

An axe’s glint draws your attention to the stocky one. He’s raised his weapon against you.

Flashing yourself a downward glance, you confirm you’re in a human form. Are humans more distrusting the lower they venture?

You open your mouth, then think better of it, pointing to your throat and shaking your head.

“Mute, huh?” again, the child speaks before casting the tin man a look. His instant deferral makes you wonder if the tall one is the leader. Then the child looks to the short one, “Senshi…”

If that’s a secret code among them, you cannot make it out.

What do you look like?

Who did you last steal?

You mask another cursory study of yourself as a frustrated huff and sniffle -- the woman. The healer woman. These all seem to be men, and men are usually softer when you take the form of a woman.

You sniffle louder, frowning and covering your face.

“Ah,” the child stumbles back, “Senshi!”

“What?” the short one gruffs. So that must be its name, not a code.

“Do something!”

“Did you lose your party?” the tin man approaches instead of ‘Senshi’. His face is gentle, nothing but patience written in the low lid of his eyes.

Pathetically, you nod.

“Laios!” the child hisses. Is that another name?

“I’m Laios,” the tin man instantly confirms, then gesturing toward the child, “That’s Chilchuck. And this is Senshi,” his brows draw, “How’d you get down here by yourself?”

How did you meet this woman?

Wiping away cold blotches in your waterline, you point upwards before dramatically slamming the hand downward.

“You fell?” Chilchuck sounds suspicious.

Oh, well. Womanly charms (tears) can’t work on kids, you suppose.

“It’s possible,” Laios defends.

“If there was a faster way to get us down here, don’t you think I would’ve taken us through there?”

The pair glare at each other with Senshi a silent third party, though his axe remains raised. Abruptly, a sickening growl cracks through the air. Borderline blood curdling in the low, raw gurgle seeping from your stomach.

Manufacturing embarrassment, you cup the pouch of your tummy and shake your head apologetically.

“Are you hungry?” Laios asks redundantly, then offers a hand. His smile is just as soft as it had been moments ago, but something about its serenity ignites your brain.

A tingle races down your spine. Breath sputtering a moment and guts coiling unpleasantly. You can feel sweat bead your forehead regardless of the chilly breeze.

You haven’t felt like this since you first opened your goopy eyes to the dungeon’s lower levels. Like he’s about to spear you through the chest. Like he’s twice your size.

Blinking free from your stupor, you nod clumsily and take his hand. It's warm. Yours is clammy.

“Is this a good idea…?” Chilchuck looks up at Senshi, wringing his hands.

Before you can properly hear Senshi’s response, Laios is already pulling you towards the cavern that red blur darted out of. He climbs in first and pulls you in -- Senshi politely avoids looking up while following after. You sit between Laios and Chilchuck in the cavern, watching Laios’ hands skim over the large, unripe Barowitz. Without considering the action, you find yourself licking your lips as he leans his face against the fruit. His cheek puffing out.

Suddenly, his gaze is honed on you again, “As soon as Marcille and Izutsumi are back, we can start eating.”

You nod excitedly. Once the other two are back, you can release and consume. A group of five is sure to satiate you at long last. You’ve never seen such a large collection of bodies. You won’t ever have to eat again after this meal.

Your excitement is tempered when you catch a glimpse of Chilchuck in your peripherals.

Child. A child is down here?

Don’t humans usually put the lives of their young before their own?

You point at Chilchuck, hoping the child will relax once you demonstrate some maternal instinct. Mothers want their kids to eat, right? It sounds right. Your maker always watched you eat before diving in Himself.

“Chilchuck?” Laios murmurs, “What about him?”

Instinctually, your mouth opens again, only to clack shut again. You tap your lips then point to him again. Then you drag a finger through the smatter of dirt and dust along the cold floor. A risky move to write, but you’ve practiced well enough to pass.

EAT FIRST

Laios raises a brow at you, “Why would he eat first?”

CHILD

Laios smiles wider than even before.

Chilchuck scoffs, an overt anger filling his tone, “I’m not a child! How ignorant are you?!”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Is he just a very short human like Senshi? But how is he so slight? How are his ears so big?

What is he?

Before any response can form from any person in the tunnel, the blue and red ones creep out from the darkness. Laios stands and approaches the pair. Blonde woman, the variety that has pointy ears -- you’ve seen lots of them down here -- continuously glances at you. She murmurs to Laios while the red one is leaning against her.

It stands on its hinds like a human, it groans like a human, it looks like a human sans the tail hanging between its legs and ears pointing upward. It's skinny, whatever it is. It was fast, looks like it has a useful face to steal.

You watch the group jabber amongst themselves, with the woman heatedly berating her fellow man for taking you in. Despite her harsh words, Laios’ face never falls: whether he’s truly so forgiving or just thrives off negative attention you’re unsure.

“I just have a good feeling,” his eyes pierce through you, and that tickle up your spine returns.

“Oh, good,” she grumbles.

“In any case, we’re all hungry,” at the prompt, Senshi moves towards the Barometz and steadies a hand against it, “I wanted to harvest a Barometz, but all the ripe ones were taken by dire wolves.”

Senshi punctures the fruit’s skin with a blade, cutting along the circumference, “Let’s see if we can cook it.”

Once halved, the side not supported by Senshi’s hand slips open with the premature lamb limply collapsing to the floor. Gelatinous bones jiggling against rock.

The thing with fur leans forward, “There’s a little sheep in the vegetable!”

“Aah! I can’t!” blue one grimaces, covering her face while Chilchuck gags, “For completely different ethical reasons, I refuse!”

You quirk a brow at her interjection -- food is food, no? They can dole out the fruit and get plump before you finally soothe your own aching gut. You’re almost tempted to rip back tight, uncomfortable skin and end the woman’s misery when Senshi’s voice calls to you.

“First cut up the Barometz ribs into whatever size proportion you want. Season them, sear them, add wine over top, cover the pan, and then braise them,” you watch as he casually defiles a creature he cannot understand, sizzling it and burning away faux fats.

You’ve never seen humans that bite back.

No matter how harmless a Barometz is, you’re in shock to see him searing up what is technically a monster.

“Next, boil the remainder of the fruit, peel off the skin, and cut it into chunks. Add some garlic and simmer it all together. With the sauce finished, you take that, pour it over the meat and… it’s ready!”

Barometz Balut.

“This helping’s yours, cat girl. Go on, take it.”

“What’s all the weird-looking stuff?”

While Senshi and ‘cat girl’ are locked in a debate, the man hands the woman in blue a serving as well. Her lips are stretched downward, her brows knotted towards the center of her forehead.

“Come on, Marcille, you’ve eaten Harpy eggs before. This should be easy!”

Harpy… eggs. Their young? What benefit does a Harpy egg provide? There is no meat. To eat that is to consume a beast simply because they can.

“That was out of desperation! I didn’t like them!”

She consumes despite it being unfulfilling? That, truly, is eating solely to prove it possible.

Your hands shake at your sides at the thought.

“That’s not true,” Laios denies.

“Okay, fine, they were… ugh. They were fine!”

“It’s okay, we all liked them. I think my favorite has been the red dragon, though,” Laios is positively beaming at you now.

The red dragon. He’s why the field’s warden has gone missing. Your shock is not lost on any of the group.

When your horror is evident, Chilchuck and the woman -Marcille- shoot forward while waving their hands around. As if to physically bat away any unsavory accusations.

“It was seasoned and cut up!” Chilchuck shouts, “We didn’t even eat all of it!”

Marcille nods rapidly, clutching the wood slat of food to her chest, “Yeah, we only had a little bit compared to how big it was!”

They scavenge the young and waste a beast as magnificent as the red dragon?

“We ate it because it ate my sister,” he’s still smiling.

A raucous chorus of his name is shrieked in protest.

Your breathing spikes, now certainly slick with sweat and chest thudding -- forget finally ending your hunger with them, how could they squander the red dragon? How could they still starve after eating such a large monster? Your palms find the floor, eyes flicking to the opening of the cavern.

When your gaze returns, Laios is staring at you. Wide amber eyes melting through your facade -- he knows, he must. How long has he known? Why not kill you as soon as he figured it out? Why lure you in?

The red one -Izutsumi- tilts its head at you, nose twitching. It smells the influx of sweat and dread.

You shoot up, opening your mouth for a husky growl, “Away… get… away…”

“I knew it!” Laios stands, “Oh, wow, I thought goatmen were extinct!”

He’s going to slice you open and they’ll eat you for fun. They won’t finish you. They’ll leave you for your maker to find.

“Goatman?!” Chilchuck wails, “You invited a goatman into the party?! Laios, I could strangle you!”

He’d kill his own ally?!

“So cool, though, and so far pretty harmless. I’ve heard they can be domesticated by feeding them brains every now and again.”

“Brain…” you shiver, flailing back into the wall, “No… Brain… No…”

Laios turns to Senshi with a preppy little smile, “It’s not an exact match, but the Barometz has something akin to a brain.”

These things are demons. No wonder your maker wants to devour them all.

Why eat a brain? You’d have to destroy the skull for that, and you need to keep the skull intact to steal a human’s face.

Senshi shrugs and hacks open the lamb’s skull with a loud crack, making you flinch back and yelp.

“First, chop the brain into four parts, season with olive oil and sprouts. Roll the brains in egg and wrap with bread. Normally you’d use crumbs or flour, but we’ll have to make due. Then fry in the pan with more oil over medium heat until…”

Laios snatches the brains from Senshi to shove onto your lap,

“It’s ready!”

FRIED LAMB BRAINS.

Senshi watches you carefully from beneath the shadow of his helmet. Meanwhile Marcille and Izutsumi are poised to attack with Chilchuck lingering in the very back. Those three are only additional to the presence of Laios, who looms above you with sword in hand. Eyes fiery with exhilaration, though he’s visibly ready to cut you down should you try escaping.

Your stomach echoes through the cavern. Drool pools and oozes through the gaps in your teeth, it smells good. So, with truly no other choice, you bring the fried brains to your mouth.

Oddly sweet, the juices are warm and electric on your tongue. You let out a soft hum and shovel more of the brains back. Again, you hum. You tip the wood slat and scoop all the meat down your gullet, licking the excess juices up and even sweeping crumbs into your mouth.

By the time your meal was picked clean, you felt something entirely new.

“Full…” you look up in amazement, wide eyed at Laios, “Full…”

A small hand cracks against Laios’ silver back, Chilchuck shouting in sharp, throaty tones that are completely unfamiliar to you. Laios frowns and murmurs about being sworn out in a foreign tongue.

Then Izutsumi yanks away, whipping her head back and forth, “Reeks in here!”

Chilchuck points at you, though is still glaring up at Laios, “And it smells!”

“Goatmen smell like goats,” Laios frowns.

Marcille hesitantly hangs a loose, thin blanket in front of you -- it takes you a moment to realize human skin is peeling off you in chunks. The faint scent of copper growing into a heavy, rotten stench of open carcass as you shed the woman’s skin. You’ve never prematurely ejected before. Normally, once you wear a person’s face you’re stuck there until it withers. Or you peel it off.

The smell gets so bad that Chilchuck and Izutsumi huff and storm to a neighboring hole in the cliff’s rockface. Marcille has to press her nose into the crook of her elbow, the sheet shaking as you stretch free from the woman’s body.

Unbeknownst to you, there is a silent battle between Marcille and Senshi. Until Laios, of course, breaks it.

“Why are you two glaring at each other?”

You rise to a stand, watching Marcille cast you a set of distrusting eyes before seething, “What should we do about it?”

“It ain’t doing anything wrong.”

“It’s a monster!” she turns suddenly towards Laios, “Didn’t you say all monsters are dangerous?!”

“They are,” Laios reaches towards his sword, squeezing the hilt and eyes sunken to the floor, “but it’s not like we were in real danger. Goatmen are pretty harmless in human forms.”

Marcille makes a startled groan behind clenched teeth, hands jerking out towards you.

“Fed goatmen are completely docile,” Laios reasons, “They only kill to eat. They’re more like an animal than a traditional monster.”

“So how do we know it won’t kill us when it gets hungry again?!”

Laios’ eyes seem to burst alight with stars, “Because we’ve fed it already! Before they were endangered some people would go down into dungeons just to domesticate and breed them for the surface. Once you prove yourself formidable and trustworthy, they’re pretty unwilling to try fighting you.”

“It can talk,” Senshi adds, “We can’t kill it just because.”

Marcille’s face goes red, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “It barely talks.”

You were taught words by your maker. He speaks with more clarity and ease than you do.

“It still talks,” Senshi doesn’t budge, “It ain't attacking either.”

For a moment, you contemplate killing these people.

Immediately, you’re repulsed by the mere thought. To see their soft faces and warm bodies torn open and to be smeared with their insides is so undesirable you heave. Brain rushing up your throat before you can swallow it down.

“Marcille live,” you caw, the woman looks up at you and you repeat yourself at her blank stare thinking she misunderstood you, “Want Marcille… alive…”

“Aw,” her coo is uneven, lips twitching in a way that, if you were better at reading people, would make you think she doesn’t trust you, “That’s actually kind of… nice?”

“I read they were loyal but I didn’t think the bonding process was so fast,” Laios marvels. Reaching out to lay a hand against your snout, he beams -- this has been a close second beast he’s dreamt of meeting. Number one still being a minotaur.

He’d been content to keep this interaction a daydream, since goatmen were thought extinct -- but look at you! Never had he thought something mythed to descend from demons could be so docile, and so…

“So cool…” Laios is boiling over with pure ecstasy as you tip your head down to fit more comfortably into his palm.

Senshi gathers the group’s remaining bags and announces he’ll re-settle camp with Chilchuck and Izutsumi. Although there’s a bonus pep in his step as he ponders jotting this whole day in his journal.

[ravnervn]

Okay fuck it. I need to exorcise this from my brain. This has haunted me for 2 or 3 years since I saw this film by chance, so I am going to, as best I recall, recap the plot. And then at the end I will say what it is so you can understand why it haunts me. I will say off the bat that you might read this ramble and go "huh this sounds good actually" and it is not. It is not a good movie.

So the film is framed as a story being told to someone -- we're not quite sure whether it's meant to be taken literally or allegorically but the ending and some other details IMPLY it's actually true.

So there's our narrator, who is an average mortal guy living a happy life. And then there's our second protagonist and actual main character, a celestial bureaucrat whose order's numbers are drawn entirely from those who have been denied a chance at a normal happy life. Whilst they can forsake their status to become mortal, as far as the bureaucrat and his peers are concerned, they are happy and performing a valuable service to reality. Our MC has been sent to Earth to investigate a threat to his organisation, and to do so he has infiltrated the narrator's life, seemingly metaphysically convincing everyone that he is the narrator's brother -- except the narrator, who sees through him and ends up convinced to help our MC as it's mutually beneficial; once the mission is done, the narrator's life returns to normal and the MC returns to his role.

So what's happening is that a rival organisation to the MC's has started up and is diverting... Okay so you can see the obvious parallels here and "worship" would fit, but I'll use the film's term of "love" because it's thematically coherent. Anyway, this organisation has a big scheme they're going to hatch to divert all love away from the Rightful Celestial Bureaucracy, and it's up to our protagonists to stop them.

See, the thing going on here is that love is finite. If someone only has one thing to love, they'll love it wholly, but if they have two things to love, that divides the love in two and so on. If they find something they love more than the original object of affection, it could fully supplant it, and that's the crux of the villain's plan.

Because the villain is a fallen celestial bureaucrat who lost his ability to hold onto his celestial form and was forced to become mortal. His plan for revenge is to supplant the love people have for his former order with love for a false idol, thus destroying the whole celestial bureaucracy. The fact this is considered a legitimate and real threat by the celestial bureaucracy implies that this is, metaphysically, how this works. Even if we take this story allegorically, the allegory still has the basis "love is a finite resource and you learn to make do".

Obviously our heroes defeat him, and obviously during this time they've genuinely bonded and decided that maybe having this guy as a brother/maybe having a loving family as a mortal is okay actually. So our celestial bureaucrat becomes a mortal and this whole story becomes just a funny whimsical reframing of the brothers' childhood.

Yes, childhood. Because here is where I unbury the lede and reveal that the villain is the CEO of PuppyCorp, whose plan is to give everyone a free puppy so that they'll love babies less, because the celestial bureaucracy is BabyCorp.

The movie I have just described to you is Boss Baby. I am being deadly fucking serious.

[skywerse]

AVA FERIN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS IN GENERAL

HEAR ME OUT, READ BELOW THE CUT AND TELL ME IF IT'S SOMETHING OR IF I'M SIMPLY LOOSING MY SHIT OVER NOTHING... BECAUSE IT MAKES SENSE TO ME—

Fey Ferin wants R.A.F.T to seize control over the world, and there's nothing that can stand in her way, not even her own family.

There might have been a time when Jayson Ferin was a good man. Based on what May says about him and glimpses we get from Jay's early memories (I recall one with the pin), it appears he once was. Perhaps Jayson desired change for the navy too, but that would be such a pain for Fey to deal with. So, she seems to have brainwashed him for months, possibly years by now (ep 79, Gilly detects corruption in him mixed with good energy), molding him into the perfect soldier who doesn't question orders and neglects his family for the sake of helping his mother to carry out this great fucking world domination plan.

Fey likely harbors resentment towards Drey for not being obedient like his brother, opting for a pirate's life over being loyal to his family and their ideals. Yet, Fey can't bring herself to kill him, so she puts him in a top security prison to let him rot instead.

Ava was the ideal soldier—strong, brave, and revered by all. However, for Fey, Ava's kindness, compassion, and desire for change is simply another pain to deal with. But of course, she would not kill her own family. And she couldn't let her just vanish either.

Perhaps Fey suspected that Ava had a soft spot for pirates, given her upbringing in Eagle's Den and being raised by such a softhearted daughter-in-law. But perhaps, on one occasion, someone witnessed Ava together with a pirate, and somehow that information reached Fey. And after learning that her granddaughter, her esteemed captain, had feelings for a pirate from the crew of the last remaining pirate lord she aimed to get rid of, Fey simply couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

Maybe Ava cooperated willingly, fought like hell, or simply was faced with a deal she couldn't refuse. R.A.F.T. wouldn't just eliminate their top captain, such a vital asset for the upcoming war. Instead, they created a doppelgänger, and chucked the real Ava into some top-notch secret confinement. Letting the dopple to become their pawn. A perfect martyred hero to be killed by those bad bad pirates. A perfect excuse to wage a war over.

But the doppelgängers aren't perfect. So when Lizzie tells Ava about a pirate who is like a father to her, Ava doesn't remember. And when Lizzie begs her not to fight, Ava doesn't listen because she doesn't remember the numerous times they sneaked out together to simply talk like normal people do. And when there's an order to shoot, Ava doesn't move away, as she remembers she was only created to destroy and to be destroyed.

Would Jayson know? Probably not. His hatered toward the pirates responsible for his daughter's death would likely fuel his brainwashed self even more. Very convenient for the long run.

Fey might permit her youngest granddaughter to infiltrate the pirates, banking on her own hatered over her sister's death to maybe one day make her an even better soldier than Ava ever was.

But maybe Fey was wrong.

And she knows it when she receives news of her son's escape from prison, and when her other son suddenly takes leave, or perhaps when a navy base on the Black Sea is breached.

So, when her promising soldier begins to rebel, it might be time to reveal the secret that she's been keping. Maybe it will help her granddaughter decide which side to choose in the end.

me rn:

But idk, that's just my speculation. If it turns out to be a load of bullshit you can point and laugh, but at this point it makes so much sense in that smooth brain of mine as I'm writing this at 7am after getting no sleep whatsoever.

ALSO, just something fun to think over:

In the rolled for 114, Grizz mentioned that the doppel/brainwashing machine had buttons with dates on them. And if pressed, it would display the people who had previously used it. I can't help but wonder if my theory about Ava is true if she might have showed up there. Or maybe it could have shown Jayson getting his fucking brain blasted. BUT WELP, someone rolled like shit (pointsatgillionpointsatgillion) and we'll never know now—

[bohemianblasphemy]

Your post of finding out butcher slept with Maeve was SO GOOD.

If you’re feeling up to it could you write another angsty piece where he tells the team and reader decides she cared way more about him than he cares for her and emotionally closes herself off a bit. Butcher notices and fucks her as an apology but she can’t stop thinking that he is only with her for convenience so when he’s close she fakes an orgasm so they won’t have to talk about her feelings.

He sort of believes her and they get pulled away for a mission or meeting and he’s watching her and realizes she faked it. Maybe he’s angry with himself for not noticing before/not making her feel good so he finds her after and truly apologizes and they have passionate loving sex instead of the usual rough fuck?

If you don’t feel like it I totally understand it’s just eating away at my brain I want this lunatic to love me so badd

no bc i love this as well!

i’m so sorry this too so long my brain is literally cooked atm ✨i hope i did the prompt justice

“alright you lot, let’s get this shit on the road.”

Butcher leaned back on his chair, observing everyone that surrounded him for his presentation- His plan to infiltrate Vought Tower.

“Now, i gotta tell ya… getting this info took a bit of, let’s say gettin’ down and dirty with the enemy, the enemy being Queen Maeve.” He chuckled, gauging the reactions of the group. Some chuckled, some remained neutral… you on the other hand, had to swallow the hard lump that formed in your throat.

Trying to brush it off, you smiled and avoided his eyes- but all you could feel was the deep pain of your heart cracking open, caring more than you wanted to admit.

Butcher looked over at you, seeing the sullen expression on your face when you tried to mask how you really felt- but he kept going, talking about his night with Maeve and the information he obtained.

The casual way he talked about it cut you deeper, feeling as if whatever you both had between you was nothing. Nights that you spent with each other between the sheets, the lingering touches and glances in the office- all those moments to find that he had screwed someone else.

His words echoed in your ears, you tried to withdraw from any and all feelings toward him.

Any interactions with him were short- no eye contact, no lingering glances; trying to lessen the pain of what’s transpired.

Butcher knew that you weren’t happy, the distance that you had created and the walls you had built around yourself gnawed at his heart. Your avoidance of him and focus on the mission ahead of the group didn’t help the regret and guilt that built inside his chest, but he suppressed it- he didn’t want to feel it.

It took so much strength to not lay your heart out on the table, to scream and cry at him for what he did- not to talk about your true feelings.

With regret weighing heavily on his mind, he showed up at your apartment one night, saying nothing, only drawing you close for a kiss.

The heat of the moment blurred the resentment you felt towards him temporarily, and toward the bedroom you both went.

No time was wasted, clothes falling to the floor as butcher pushed you back onto your mattress and crawled on top of you- desperately wanting to feel you.

As your passions escalated, billy rocked himself into you and his face buried in your neck- that internal turmoil returned in full force within you.

Was he really here for you? or was this just a pity fuck? Were you just a convenient choice for him?

Your mind was filled with so many thoughts that you couldn’t concentrate on his movements. In a moment of desperation, you quickened your breath and pretended to moan, arching your body against his to make it as realistic as possible as you faked your orgasm.

He sunk his teeth into your neck as he came, grunts filling your ear. He loved the way that you sounded, not realising that it wasn’t the reality for you. He pulled away from your neck, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Looking at you he could see it in your face that something wasnt right, but before he could say anything his phone started to ring.

Answering the call, Hughie spoke on the other end talking of an emergency meeting, something that needed attention as soon as possible. Butcher hung up the phone, quickly putting on his clothes.

“Duty calls love, better get dressed.”

You didn’t say anything, just mirrored Billy’s movements as you both got ready to head out the door- en route back to Headquarters.

As you both exited the building, he turned to you.

“We can go in my car-“

“I’m taking mine alone, i’ll meet you there.” you looked at him briefly before turning the corner to your car- hopping into the drivers seat.

As you sat there, could see butchers figure in the rear view window, tears prickling in your waterline as you turned the car on.

Butcher stood there in silence, watching the engine sputter to life and tires squeal down the road. His nostrils flared as huffed in frustration as he stomped toward his car, trying to work out what was going on. Yeah, he knew they were pissed about the Queen Maeve situation- but there was something else.

After arriving at the Flatiron Building, everyone had gathered in their shared space listening to Hughie speak, but Butcher couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you as you sat across the room next to Kimiko.

His brows furrowed in contemplation, the cogs in his brain replaying your earlier encounter as he looked at your from afar.

The realisation hitting him like a sledgehammer that you didn’t truly enjoy yourself, feigning your pleasure- cracking the code of your facade.

Hughie went on for what seemed like hours before you were dismissed, you couldn’t have left the office fast enough.

Being met with the cool air you walked toward your car, but not before Butcher stopped you in your tracks.

“Oi, we need to talk.” He said softly, his arms crossed.

You sighed, pushing him out of the way to open the car door.

“No we don’t, i’m going home.” You weren’t giving in, not now.

“Just fuckin’ listen to me will ya?” he raised his voice slightly, putting his palm on the door to stop you from leaving.

“Not here Butcher, I can’t do this-“

“I-I didn’t mean to treat you like that. I thought that the Maeve shit didn’t effect ya the way it did and i just-“

“I’m not going to be a choice for you Butcher. i deserve better than that and you know it.”

“That’s not it, Love. the way i feel for ya ain’t like that.”

“Then why didn’t you notice me, Billy? The way I felt when you told me- no, the entire group that you screwed Maeve as if it was just a walk in the fucking park?”

Butcher was speechless, looking at you as his face filled up with even more regret- knowing he’d hurt you even more than he could imagine. He couldn’t speak, only look at you.

“That’s what i thought.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you choked on your words. You threw open the car door, starting the ignition as quick as possible to drive off.

Watching you drive off from the sidewalk, Butchers fists had begun to white knuckle. He was angry at himself, knowing that he fucked up and hurt one of the only people that he cared for.

He knew that he couldn’t just let you walk away like that, he wasn’t giving up as he made his way to your apartment.

His hand rapped at your wooden door, his heart pounding as he waiting for you to answer- hoping you would open the door for him.

You were on the other side, looking at him through the peephole. The internal debate on whether or not to open the door raged on within you-

The door opened just a crack, just enough to see butchers sullen face.

“Cmon love, let me in. You know we gotta sort this.”

You looked at him for a few moments and opened the door as he walked in, silently standing at the kitchen counter. Wether or not you were going to regret letting him in was gonna be

You stood a few feet awake from him, looking at him so he could speak. The silence in that moment was deafening.

“I’m sorry.” he piped up, sighing as he rubbed his face in his hands. “I thought you’d understand, Maeve and myself was just an intel exchange- and today when i came over i didn’t look after you properly, i know that ya faked it.”

“Billy it doesn’t matter…” you murmured, wiping a tear away.

“No it fuckin’ does matter, because whether ya like it or not i care for ya, more than ya know.”

He walked over to you, putting your face in his hands.

“I should have taken care of you, the way that you deserve. I fucked it up, love.”

You looked at him, seeing the sencerity in his eyes as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“I-i just don’t want to be your backup… the other choice.”

“There is no other choice, sweetheart. the only one is you.” He nearly choked on his words, but stalled the lump in his throat.

“I will do anything, absolutely anything to get you to trust me again… let me love you, the way you deserve to. Let me make it right, please…”

The look in his eyes was full of sincerity, he wanted you to feel his love - His hands wrapped around your torso, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes met his as the turmoil that boiled within you faded.

“Then show me.” your voice barely above a whisper.

That was all he needed, placing his palm on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a searing kiss and backing you up towards the wall.

It was unlike any other kiss you had shared with him- not half hearted, it was raw and real.

Quickly shedding yourself and him of all clothes, he carried you toward the bedroom- placing you gently onto the soft mattress.

He wanted to take his time with you, savouring how you felt and the way you tasted as his lips travelled between your thighs. “God i would spend eternity here… tasting your sweet pussy.” Licking a stripe up you, relishing in the taste of your essence and the moans that bounced off the walls as he continued his actions against you, not stopping until you came on his mouth.

Panting and shaking with desire you pulled him up from between your thighs and in for a kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips and tongue.

“Billy, please… i need you.” you breathed, wrapping your thighs around him. He didn’t need to be asked twice, lining himself up with you.

“God love, i can’t wait to feel you, to make you feel good. You are everything, my everything…” he praised you, wanting you to feel how he felt about you.

His cock sunk deliciously into your cunt, thrusting ever so gently and deeply to feel you entirely. The sound of slapping skin mixed with the pair of you panting and groaning from satisfaction.

Your hands travelled to his hair, pulling on it and hearing the soft groans fall from his lips, causing him to thrust faster into you. “Ah.. fuck…” he grumbled, sinking his teeth into your collarbone as he continued his actions against you- making you yelp as the pleasure and pain of his bite sent jolts through you, the knot in your stomach starting to unravel as you reached the edge of your orgasm.

“Billy, i’m go-gonna…” you moaned, biting down on his shoulder- earning a strained groan of satisfaction from him.

“Let go f’me love… please.” he was almost there, but needed you to be satisfied before he could.

Your thighs shook around his waist, the pulsating rapture flowing through you as you called his name, your fingers pulling at his dark hair as you came.

He shuddered as you grabbed onto him, his cock pulsating as hot cum coated your walls. Heavy breaths filled your ears as he came down from his high, bringing his head to face you.

“So beautiful, all mine…” he whispered, looking down at you and smiling at how you looked in your after glow. You smiled softly back, your fingers lingering along his beard.

“I’m gonna make you feel my love, Sweetheart. I love ya…” he whispered, knowing that he had a lot to show for- to prove to you how much you mean to him.

[nastylittleghouls]

M! Would you tell us about Aether wearing these around the Abbey?

First of all, Jim, I appreciate you so much 💜 Second of all, we all know Aether's magnificent behind would see a lot of action when he wears those pants around the Abbey. From Siblings and Ghouls and Papa's alike. Most of all from Copia. We know just how much he loves Aether's ass. And Aether? He'd use it as a response and invitation for almost everything and at the end of the day he'd be filthy and sore in so many ways.

So I scribbled a lil thing.  5+1 moments where Aether got his "patch(es) kissed". There's mildly spicy entertainment under the cut. No Papa's included this time (they might get their own someday) and no refunds of your time if it actually isn't entertaining and my brain fog suffering med addled self was lying to me.

CW: Implied consensual free use, somnophilia. Unbeta'ed.

Divider by @wrathofrats - AO3 for the so inclined

Booty calls (He sure hopes it does)

1.

It‘s cathartic. Being alone and singing his heart out, that is. Letting himself sink into someone else's happiness without having personal ties to them. It’s something he needs more than he cares to admit. To himself and even less to the pack. He thrives on being social and being connected so deeply, don‘t get him wrong, but it‘s draining. Feeling other beings alongside his own all the time. The many unfortunate souls that seek shelter here. Chewed up and spit out by a society that produces loneliness en masse. Crushed souls and shattered minds hopeful for a new beginning and….

He sings even louder, over the dark cloud threatening to form in his mind, and shimmies with a pile of clothes in his arms through the room. His tail swishing and bopping, used as a makeshift microphone when he gets carried away by the vibes.

He bends over to stuff the washing machine full, ass still wriggling to the tune on the radio, when a pair of hands still his swaying hips and warm lips burn right through the layers of fabric, pulling a startled chuckle out of Aether. First on the patch, following its invitation to kiss it, then right on the seam between his cheeks. Further down on the banana, followed by a bite that has his breath hitching in anticipation. He knows what the sight of him doing so mundane, so humanly domestic things like laundry does to Dewdrop. 

He feels the same when Dewdrop is in his element, showing his magic in the kitchen. A natural in combining flavors and textures and bringing Aether to his knees for a taste.

„It says kiss it not eat me alive“

He feels, more than he hears, Dewdrop's low laugh when the water pump signals the starting washing cycle. The old thing’s too loud when it gets going but the vibrations do wonderful things to him, as Dewdrop hooks his fingers into and drags the waistband down to bare Aether to his hungry gaze.

 „Let me kiss it properly then“ is all he hears before Dewdrop spreads his cheeks and seals his lips over his hole, making out with it until Aether’s knees buckle and he has to grip the edge of the machine to keep himself upright. 

 Aether doesn‘t get around to folding the dry laundry waiting for him.

2.

After breakfast, Aurora and Sunshine make it a game to follow him around making loud obnoxious kissing noises when he turns his back to them. Aether pretends to ignore them until, in one careless second, they get too close and he gets his hands on them. He contemplates just sitting on them until they cry for mercy but decides to dump them unceremoniously into the lake and let the water ghoul conference deal with those brats.

3.

Around midday, he helps Ivy maintain his namesake on the Ghoul Wing walls. He’s standing on a stepstool, sweating as the sun beats down on him, gently removing some stray vines from the wooden window frames and hooking them into the growth support on the walls. It’s necessary work, otherwise they’ll infiltrate the whole building.  A gaggle of siblings has been hiding behind the columns for a while now, dissolving into helpless giggles every time he looks over at them, talking to each other in hushed, excited voices. 

„I can‘t just go up to him and….“ 

Aether can practically hear the wild hand gesturing.

„it‘s obviously an invitation!“ 

“But…”

“What what in the B…”

Someone snickers. A smacking sound follows. 

“He’s so big, just imagine….”

He laughs to himself at that, amused. He can smell the faint arousal mixed with a dash of fear. Can feel it in the aura surrounding them. Some of them are new and haven’t had the time to experience what a ghoul can and would do to them. Just dared to let their minds wander. Most of them think the masks are infused with a containment spell, making them harmless servants of the church. And, in Aether’s opinion, that’s half of the fun of the whole cat-and-mouse game. 

One sibling, clearly more shy than the others from what he’s observed today, finally breaks away from the group and leaves their hideout behind the stones. They walk straight, seemingly confident. A closer look reveals that their hands are shaking and that the fine line their lips are forming doesn’t stem from determination. 

They stop behind him, eyes firmly trained on the patch on his ass. A minute ticks by and just in time, he turns his head to see them raise their hand to their mouth. An exaggerated smooching sound follows and two fingertips press firmly against the patch. Aether wriggles his ass a little and cheers erupt behind him. 

They finally look up at him and he sends a wink their way.

“I appreciate someone that can follow instructions like that”

They smile in response before their eyes widen in realization and they almost fall over their own feet to run back to their friends. 

Yet, they linger. When Ivy makes him take a break it‘s the patch stuffed into their mouth, muffling the pleasured chants of his name.

4. 

During a nap on the couch in the common room, it‘s Swiss that follows his patch‘s invitation. Lips firm, nose pressed so far into the swell of his butt that Aether could swear he can feel his teeth. Swiss does it once, twice. A third time. Aether smiles sleepily, about to comment if it wasn’t on for the fourth,  where Swiss just keeps his face buried there and starts snoring. He ruffles the other Ghoul's hair affectionately before he closes his eyes and follows Swiss back into dreamland.  

He wakes to Swiss’ sliding the hard ridge of his cock against the letters on his ass, forcing Aether‘s hips into the couch over and over until they both come. 

„Messy kisses are the best“  Swiss smirks as he watches his cum seep in. 

5. In the evening, Aether goes to fetch some firewood from behind the greenhouse. 

Mountain steps in front of him when he’s about to leave.

„Road toll. You shall not pass without paying up“ 

The look on Mountain‘s face is almost unbearably cheesy and Aether can‘t help but play along. 

„And what, dear sir, can I offer you to let me through?“

Now, Mountain's eyes start to glint mischievously and he takes the wood from Aether, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground next to them. Then he steps closer and draws Aether up against himself with a firm grip on his ass, fingers digging deep into the patch on the inside of Aether’s thigh. It forces the Quint onto his tiptoes.  

“I have a craving for banana and cream”.

+1

When Aether faceplants into his nest after his shift in the infirmary the next morning, only clad in boxer shorts, it doesn’t take long for Dewdrop to crawl between his legs and drop another kiss onto his ass where the patch had been sitting for too long in his opinion; giving Aether’s body freely away. It feels like a nod to the events in the laundry room yesterday when he was sending him off as he’s now welcomed back. 

“I missed you, starlight”  The words come sometime in between bouts of scenting him. In a narrow time frame when he pauses and starts anew. More of a breath than a sentence.

“Missed you too, firefly” 

Aether says and sinks into the feeling, lets the emotions that well up thrum through their bond, and accepts Dew’s in return. It’s easy when it’s him. A being so deeply interwoven with his own for so long.  A part of him wishes it would never end, the other wishes Dew would let him roll over and reciprocate sooner than later.  

Finally, after giving himself a moment to playfully nip into Aether’s thighs where Mountain left his mark earlier, he nuzzles and kisses his way up Aether‘s back. Aether inhales -  sharply -  then exhales - slowly -  with a laugh and reaches behind him blindly to tangle his fingers in Dew’s hair, craving more contact.

“Easy, easy. I’m here. All yours again”

Dew settles around him like warm summer rain. Calming, warm. The need to reclaim swinging along like an afterthought. 

“Want to mark you inside. Let me?” 

It’s a demand, packaged in a whispered question, to a star who would never say no to being consumed by fire. 

[cloudcountry]

HELP I'VE BEEN CURSED

SUMMARY: Sebek thinks you've put a spell on him. In a way, he's not wrong.

CHARACTER: Sebek Zigvolt.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: Sebek not understanding romantic feelings and going WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS when he catches them >>>>>>>>>>

~~~~~

One moment Lilia was working on his next masterpiece, a blackberries roast beef asparagus casserole, and the next, Sebek was bursting down his door with red cheeks and wide eyes. Whipping his head to face his dormmate, Lilia couldn’t help but smile at the frantic expression on his face.

“Master Lilia! I seek your guidance!” Sebek yelled, “I fear I have been cursed!”

“Oh no. We can’t have that, can we?” Lilia placed a hand under his chin thoughtfully, “Do explain.”

“It’s the Prefect!” Sebek huffed, shaking his head dramatically, “They must have cast a spell on me to remove me from the Young Master! I feel a pull towards them that cannot be explained! It’s illogical and uncalled for! What makes it even worse is the way my heart reacts to them—it palpitates! It’s incredibly concerning! Master Lilia, what shall I do?”

Lilia was baffled for a few beats before a small smirk worked its way onto his face.

Aww, it sounded like little Sebek was in love!

Laughing to himself, Lilia gazed at his underclassman affectionately.

“Listen carefully, Sebek.” he narrowed his eyes dramatically, “A curse has been placed on you, but not by the Prefect. The only way you can lessen the effects of the curse is by staying with them. I’m afraid it may last a while, but staying with them should build your immunity. Make sure to treat them well and make them feel comfortable. That’s essential.”

“Yes, Master Lilia!” Sebek nodded vigorously, “I’ll follow your instructions perfectly! Thank you for your guidance!”

Lilia could barely hold in his laughter as Sebek ran out of the room, surely off to find you and fulfill his duty. He just hoped you were ready to have a rowdy boy trailing after you for however long it took for Sebek to confess to you directly. Humming a jolly little tune to himself, Lilia started his lovely cooking experiment once again.

📚

“Sebek...? May I ask why you’re following me?” you asked, staring at the stack of your textbooks in his arms, “And why did you insist on carrying my stuff? You usually just laugh at me-”

“I’m doing this for Malleus!” he yelled, staring straight ahead with a slight flush to his cheeks, “Don’t ask questions, human! I’m not doing this for you!”

“Right, right.” you hummed, patting his shoulder absentmindedly, “Thank you though. Those books are pretty heavy. It’s helpful having someone like you around to help carry all this stuff since Grim can’t carry his own things.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault!” Grim crossed his arms, huffing angrily.

Sebek nearly recoiled at your touch, the contact sending a shock wave through his brain that sent his heart into another frenzy. There was no way you were a magicless human! You must be a secretly powerful mage deep down, sent to infiltrate Night Raven College and get to the Young Master! Sebek narrowed his eyes at you as you mumbled something about lunch, hoisting your bag higher on your shoulder. Yes...he’d have to observe you more. For Malleus. (Not because he liked being around you, bleh. What a ridiculous idea.)

[zer0pm]

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

.

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

.

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

.

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

.

.

.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

[gummygowon]

forest green | choi san

word count: 1k

request: forest green + angst (pls with happy ending i cant take sadness 😥💔)/opposites attract + san <3 !! thank u !

warnings: a few losers being mean to sannie

a/n: hi love thank you so much for requesting i'm so sorry this im posting this so late but i really had sm fun with this one i hope you enjoy!

"no shot y/n." your best friend soojin whispers to you as you guys walk out onto the court before the game starts.

"what?" you whisper back, trying to keep the cheerful smile on your face as you wave your forest green pom poms in the air at the crowd.

"you like choi san don't you?"

"what?" you pause, whipping your head to look at soojin.

"be so for real y/n, i can see you looking for his nerdy ass in the crowd right now."

"i am not!" you argue, turning your back to the crowd as the basketball team makes their way onto the court.

"y/n, you have the entire school at your finger tips and you choose choi san? nerdy ass choi san who spends his time in the library every friday night."

"and? i don't mind." you sheepishly answer staring down at your poms as san's cute dimple smile infiltrated your mind.

"my god, y/n, you have the kim mingyu wrapped around your finger and you want san?!?"

"at least san has a brain and isn't a jerk."

"so? he's hot that basically covers everything." soojin defends as you guys walk to the sidelines.

"for you it does." you huff, smoothing out your skirt as you get in your spot that was on the corner of the court. it gave you the perfect view of san who was wearing a forest green sweater to represent your school's colors. he was sitting at the very top of the bleachers looking lost as soon as the game started. a small smile appeared on your face as watch san's eyebrows furrow in confusion trying to understand what was happening in front of him. eventually, his eyes trailed down to the cheerleader section where you were. you caught his gaze and gave him a small wave which he returned with a shy smile.

the crowd erupts in cheers as hongjoong scores the first basket of the game meaning your little moment with san was rudely ended. the game however goes on well as your team absolutely destroys your opponent. cheers erupted the gym as the students shouted in celebration. as one of the cheer leaders you follow your team to the court to make a tunnel for the team as they head back to the locker room.

once they leave, your coach gives out her post game speech and then lets you guys go. to your surprise, you see san waiting outside the gym trying to make himself look busy.

"hey," you softly say bumping his shoulder with yours causing him to jump. "do you need help finding the exit or?"

"no," san scoffs bumping his shoulder into you as revenge, "just thought i should say you did great out there."

a shy smile makes its way to your face as your heart beats against your chest. "thank yo-"

"y/n!" mingyu emerges from god knows where, throwing his arm over you forcing you and san to separate. "you comin' to my house later? my parents are gone and i'm throwing a huge party for tonight's win!"

"oh, i-" you peer over mingyu's large frame to see san looking dejectedly at the floor.

"you're going!" yuqi shouts from behind, another one of your teammates.

you didn't even get a chance to say goodbye as mingyu and his teammates along with yours push you to the parking lot.

"why are you even hanging out with san? isn't he a total loser?" someone asks from behind you.

"yeah, plus he's a total sqaure!"

"little man probably hasn't felt the touch of a woman since his mother changed his diaper!"

"excuse me?" you say utterly in shock that your so called friends are just outwardly saying shit about someone.

before anyone even had a chance to say anything san pushes his way through the crowd angrily.

"san, wait!" you say trying to catch up to him only to have mingyu tug at your wrist.

"leave him be y/n. kid's a loser anyways."

"he is not!" you argue, ripping your arm away from him. "just fuck off and go have your stupid party!"

you made a beeline to your car and drove to the one place you knew san would be at a time like this. the park where the playground was a mix of ugly beige and forest green and where the park overlooked your little hometown. san liked it because it made him like he was on top of the world even if he was treated like shit.

thankfully, san's beat up toyota corolla was parked in front of the playground.

"thought i might find you here." you say in a quiet tone, wrapping your hands around self because of course you forgot your lettermen at home.

san didn't even turn to look at you as he swung slowly on the creaky swing set. "aren't you supposed to be at some party?"

"yeah, but i didn't feel like going." you answer sitting next to san on the other swing.

"so you decided to hang out with a loser on a good friday night?" he sarcastically asks.

"san-"

"why do you even wanna be around me? midterms are over so you don't have to be around me for awhile." san spits, still not even daring to look up at you. "you know, i thought that maybe there would be a chance you actually like me."

your heart cracked at every word that was coming out his mouth. "san, i do. a lot. trust me."

"no you don't." his knuckles turning white because of how hard he was gripping the chains on the swing. "not in the way i do."

still san was refusing to look up at you until you take a hand and place it softly on his cheek. san jumps at your sudden touch before slowly raising his eyes to meet yours.

"i like you sannie." you confess, heart racing a hundred miles per hour. "i don't care what people or even you say about yourself. i like the way your dimples pop out when you smile. i like the way you never get frustrated with him when you're teaching me. i like the way you remember the little things about everyone. i like you, choi san."

"i-are you sure?" he asks to stunned to even respond to your confession.

you nod your head, giggling at the way san was staring at you in shock.

"can i kiss you?"

"of course, sannie." you answer before smiling to the warm kiss.

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt. 15

The rest of what I wanted to put in 14

Also I'm so sorry for the delay, genuinely had the worst few weeks of my life 🤌🏻 thank you for not giving up on me

<<Part 14 Part 16>> Masterlist

Laying in bed next to Logan was bliss. Since accepting his proposal the two of you had amped up your love. If that was even possible.

If he wasn't whipped before he definitely was now. The boys lovingly teased him as he literally waited on you, hand and foot. He wanted you to be cared for, wanted you to feel loved, feel special. He wanted you to be the queen you were.

He even learned how to braid hair for you.

You were just drifting off to sleep when a yelp woke you.

Logan pushed you back down into the covers. “Stay here.”

“No!” You argued, jumping up and sprinting after him.

Jean was on the floor with a weird circular object on her forehead. You paused but didn't stop as she was breathing. You had to push on, had to find the intruder, to prevent the rest of the residents from danger.

As you legged it to keep up with your fiancé you passed more unconscious bodies - Remy, Darwin and Kitty to name a few - they each had the same disc attached to their foreheads but we're still breathing.

“Logan?!” You called out as you flew down the stairs.

He was out of your line of sight. He'd led you to the dining hall - you think - but what way had he gone? There were doors on each wall, what one had he run through? Had he even come through here?

You were too exposed standing in the centre of the hall in nothing but a nightie. Was this the right move? Should you have stopped and helped the others? Who was here? Who was infiltrating the Mansion this time? Mutant or human?

That line of thought had you wondering: what if the discs were lethal? What if you'd sealed their fate by trying to prevent others? What if the discs were draining their life force? FUCK!!

As your mind spun you backed up against the far wall. You needed to keep a level head so the wall was an attempt to ground yourself but it wasn't exactly easing your anxieties.

You formed flat fields which sat by your fists - Magneto had been right to tell you to try and form different shapes - in an offence manoeuvre. Keeping silent to hear or see anything. To get any sort of clue as to who or what had broken in.

Heavy footsteps echoed beyond the door to your left and suddenly it was blown off of its hinges.

She sauntered into the hall, and for having just booted the wood she didn't seem winded.

The girl was young. She had dark hair and an angry expression, wearing jeans and a leather jacket.

“Hello?” You had never seen her before. Usually if someone was invading the Mansion you had a vague idea. The humans usually wore the same uniform and any other mutant that came knocking usually had some sort of gimmick or name correlating to their power.

She answered with a snarl, launching forward.

You blocked her attack and were in shock.

She had claws! SHE HAD TWO CLAWS LIKE LOGAN!

Was… was this like Magneto? Did he have a child?

You couldn't blame the man for having a past but you were convinced your Logan would've told you.

The girl was angry. She didn't like that you blocked her attack. She jumped straight back in punching and kicking - KICKING WITH A FOOT CLAW!?!? - at your fields. Each attack you countered and pushed her off.

“Who are you?” You yelled over her grunts.

She managed to slip two claws through a field - barely missing your exposed thigh - but you held them in place. “What they made me.”

“Who made you?” You cried out, shoving her backwards and into the mahogany table.

She crouched on the table reminiscent of Kurt. “Alkali.” You had no idea who Alkali were. Wracking your brain, you only knew HYDRA, SWORD, AIM.. no Alkali.

She had stayed still on the table so you raised your palms in a surrender, fields away. “Why are you here?”

“He is to blame. They did this to me because of him!”

The girl leaped from the table and over you. You produced another field inches above your head and caught the circle she had tried to place.

“What is this? What have you done to my friends?” You wrapped a field around it and brought it close to your eyes. It had a red flashing light and tiny pincers.

“They're just asleep.” She growled. “Like you should be!”

The girl tried to kick your feet but you jumped back. As you landed, your ankle rolled and you lost your footing. You stumbled and landed on your butt encapsulated yourself in a field.

The girl stood over you, her arms folded and wearing a taunting smile. Fuck, she looked like him. He was definitely her father. 100%

“Hey!” Logan yelled behind you.

The girl snarled upwards and circled your sorry ass, heading forwards. She revealed her claws.

“X.” She spoke.

“Names Logan.” His claws unsheathed. “Now who the fuck are you?”

As if?!

Could he not put two and two together?

“They made me because of you!” She snarled but from your angle you could see tears forming. Her anger was still present but there was also sadness, a hopelessness.

“Who made you?” His eyes watched her stalk around the room, she kicked a chair out of her way, her eyes never leaving him.

“Sutter, Kinney, Rice.” She spat the names. The names didn't ring any bells with you and you could see they didn't with Logan. “But you gave the order.”

His brows twitched in puzzlement. “I would never! It almost killed me.”

“You're gonna wish it killed me!” She jumped upwards and crashed into him.

~~

Laura was no longer a volatile gremlin.

Well... she was still quick to anger and she was still just as gremlinesque as Logan.

But now she knew you were no longer a threat.

She was slowly - immensely slow - integrating into the X-Mansion.

A team of Kurt, Jean and Kitty broke into the Alkali facility. The cooperation was under the Umbrella of HYDRA, meaning it was just as sinister.

They had returned with horrid news.

Laura had been created merely as an experiment and was essentially cloned from a scrap of DNA they stole.

The implications of HYDRA cloning was terrifying. They were creating and cloning weapons of mass destruction.

You read the stolen file as the X-Men discussed above your head.

‘Laura Kinney’.

She had mentioned the name Kinney.

Her mother was a scientist and had donated her eggs to create this weapon. She had been created in a lab to replicate the Weapon X process.

Her handlers had tried to integrate her into society to act as a sleeper but she didn't cope well around humans. In response to that they isolated her for years, only bringing her out for training, experimenting with her healing factor and finally her Adamantium transfusion.

“She can't stay here.” Scott sighed, he didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did. “I want to help her but the students are terrified.”

“She hasn't been around people.” You supplied. “They isolated her from age eight to fifteen.”

Charles was silent, scanning your mind for the information it held.

“She's my responsibility.” Logan was standing in the corner, arms folded. If you didn't know better you'd say his power was weather manipulation with the rain cloud that had followed him these past weeks.

The two of you had spoken about the potential of him having offspring. He had told you there were two possibilities, one being from his time in Japan and the other Iraq.

He had apologised but it was none of your business really. You couldn't have kids anyway. Why would you be upset that he had them?

Okay maybe it was a little strange.

His immortality kept slipping from your mind only to be thrust right back in your face when you least suspected it.

Would his children be like Laura?

Would they be powerful?

Have claws?

“I'll look after her.” Logan told the group. “I'll need help but I want to take her in. Show her that she doesn't have to be a weapon.”

You saw the vulnerability he tried to keep at bay. He was so unsure of himself.

He'd never been a father.

Never accepted that role.

He was a leader, a teacher, an X-Man but never something as delicate as a father.

“We'll all help Logan.” You hoped to ease his turmoil.

The crease between his brows lifted and his frown disappeared. He could always rely on you. Ride or die.

Charles’ chair moved, pulling attention. “I'd like to speak to Logan and Y/N separately.”

The others gave pointed looks but did comply and soon enough the three of you were alone.

You were sitting on the small sofa he had in his office - it was really more of a miniature library/study - the file on the coffee table in front of you. Logan had taken four steps towards Charles’ desk but he was still standing at a distance. Charles had stopped next to his window, he turned to it and sighed. The weather had been drizzly, a grey sky stared back at him.

“She is haunted.” Charles informed. “She needs reliable, consistent help.”

You could do that.

Right?

You could be that for someone.

Logan huffed. “I'll give it all I got.”

“But that also may cause problems to arise.” Charles licked his lips. “Sometimes what happens is terrible and it's hard but the person trying to help makes it worse.”

You didn't understand.

Did she or didn't she need constant help?

“My paralysis didn't occur because of the bullet but because Erik took it out.” He gave an example. “Sometimes we need to take a step back and let what happened happen.”

You summarised. “So she needs consistency and reliable help but she needs us to step back?”

“She isn't used to caring individuals. She'll need time but I do think she'll come around.”

~~

Mario Kart and Sonic were your way of introducing Laura into the world.

It taught her how to take losing graciously, team work, social skills, practical problem solving…

And best of all.

It was fun.

She was having fun.

Acting like a normal kid.

You were Wario because for some reason you loved that short king and she chose Daisy. You'd tell everyone to join as the GameCube had four controllers. It was only a matter of time before you upgraded and splurged on the PlayStation.

Kurt and Jubilee were Laura's favourites. They played animatedly next to her and she observed the way they acted. Watched them so closely you could see her imitate their behaviours.

Scott slumped into the empty couch space next to you. “I'm playing the winner.”

Kurt smirked up at Scoot. “Can't vait to beat you, too.”

You rolled your eyes as much as possible without them leaving the screen. “As if.”

Jubilee sat on your other side, whilst Kurt and Laura were sprawled out on the floor, moving her body animatedly to turn where you had.

Scott watched the game turn into madness, you all bickering and yelping as shells and banana peels hit you.

Mario - Jubilee - won, with Daisy, King Boo - Kurt - and Wario close behind. Just at the last second you Blue Shelled King Boo and squeezed into third place.

Kurt was salty but admitted it was a clever move as he handed the controller to Scott.

Scott switched up his character to Donkey Kong and decided on the track.

You hated this track. Who in their right mind picks Rainbow Road?!

The fucker was good at Rainbow Road. You Jubilee and Laura were not so good, all crashing into everything and falling off the edges.

“Hey Scott.” You spoke casually compared to how chaotic you all were feeling. “Logan's thinking of having a Best Woman so you wanna be my Man of Honour?”

Donkey Kong flew off the side. “Did you-what?”

“I didn't say that to fuck with you but I'm glad it worked.” You nudged his elbow with your own.

“Yeah, I'll be your Man of Honour.” He dropped a giant banana peel in your path.

Later in the evening, as the two of you were in the Kitchen, Scott asked if it was real, if you actually wanted him to be your Man of Honour and you said yes.

Why wouldn't you?

He was your friend.

Logan was planning on asking Jean, so you felt solid in your choice. Scott was a dear friend to you and due to your proximity to Jean he had grown even closer now they were finally dating.

“I don't think we're having a big ceremony though.” You warned. “It may just be us four.”

“That's fine.” He sliced some Mango.

You watched him make a fruit salad, snagging some pieces for yourself, in silence. It was astonishing that you hadn't been interrupted. For once, everything was calm.

Just as you were praising being uninterrupted Logan entered the Kitchen.

“Finally, been looking everywhere.”

You gave him a smile. “My Man of Honour and I have been here a while.”

Logan's brows rose as he laughed. “You asked?”

“Yup, was destroying him at Mario Kart-”

“Hah.”

“-and thought I should probably ask.”

Logan's arm wrapped around your waist automatically and he nodded down at you. “Should probably ask Jean. You settled on a date yet?”

“No,” you scrunch your nose. “It's our wedding, you have to he-” The sentence was left unfinished as his fingers dug into your side tickling you.

"Just want you to be happy."

~~

Logan, Storm, Scott, Jean, Beast and Kurt were all off on a mission leaving you as the responsible adult.

Fuck that.

It was boring with them all off. Luckily Laura was there for you when she wasn't reading.

The girl had stormed through your book collection and was currently rereading 1984.

So you were feeling lonesome.

There were others at the Mansion: Colossus, Shadowcat, Jubilee, Rogue, Bobby, etc but they weren't immediate friends.

A knock at the doors pulled your attention - you were planning on rotting in bed, having come down for some popcorn and a glass of water.

Pulling the heavy front door open you found two people.

One was a mad dressed in all red, he had an assortment of weapons on his person, and the other was a child. She had tanned skin and dark hair, scars visible by her eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Hi. I'm Flashback Deadpool!” He shook your hand with such enthusiasm that your shoulder was moving. “And this little pumpkin is Gabby.”

“Hi Gabby.” You flashed the warmest smile you could. “Are you two rel-”

“No, Flashback Y/N. We aren't. Well, if we're going Mayaverse and not movieverse we came outta the same place. Gabby is a clone of Laura who's a clone of Logan who SPOILERS IS A CLONE OF HUGH JACKMAN!” Deadpool cackled to himself.

“Oh, okay.” You didn't know what to do. How did this man know your name? Why was he saying flashback? Against your better judgement you asked, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yeah sure,” Deadpool took a hold of Gabby's hand, “but I want to remind present Y/N that she's on the stairs.”

//

There was a group photo on the wall. It was professionally taken and each member looked pristine. Charles was sitting in his chair with Jean, Rogue and Storm on an expensive looking sofa; Scott was perched on the sofa’s arm beside Jean as Bobby, Colossus and Hank stood behind it. Jubilee and Kurt were kneeling at Storm's feet.

How proud they all looked.

There was a smaller photograph taped next to the large frame. It must've been taken seconds after the main one as each member had chaotic grins, laughing ridiculously.

They were a family.

They are a family.

It was eerie.

It had taken you ages to realise it.

But it was eerie.

It felt wrong. An unease settled into your bones.

You felt like the jigsaw was complete with your missing piece underneath the table.

The others wouldn't feel this way.

They hadn't lived here.

Gambit didn't remember a time before the Void and Laura barely had Logan and Charles.

You stepped away, passing portraits of lost mutants.

You'd never be there because you were never there.

You felt sick.

How could they not know you when they were such a big part of you?

They were YOUR FAMILY.

//

Landing in a Wasteland was not how you thought you'd spend the day.

What had happened? Did Kurt teleport you?

Where the fuck were you?

Rising from the sand you tried to make out anything - any landmarks - but the glare of the sun was too much.

Where was Logan? Laura? Gabby? Scott? Jean? Storm? Wade?!

Where were your friends?!

“Y/N?”

You spun to see Dazzler. She looked different. Older. Worn. Weak.

“Alison?”

“It's so good to see a familiar face!” Grinning ear to ear.

“Where are we? Egypt?” You had to bring your hand up to shield your eyes.

“N-” Her face dropped. “No, we're elsewhere.”

What did that mean?

She gave you a pitiful expression before shaking her head. “Go, run, head that way. They won't find you there.”

“Alison I don't understa-”

“Go!” Her eyes glittered and she turned her back on you. “I've given you a chance, take it. Run.”

Run?

What were you running from?

What were you running to?

Why were you running?

No one likes running!

But she clearly meant it.

You turned in the direction she had gestured to and began walking, hoping that she would snap out of it and follow you. Tell you where you were heading.

She didn't.

You found scraps of… well of everything. There were buildings, monuments, vehicles, clothes, shields, weapons - mainly faulty - bones, graves and most importantly more sand.

It was hot - it was so hot - you had to unzip your suit, tying the fabric around your waist. Sweat marks already stained the fabric of your vest.

Was this the right way?

You climbed to the peak of a sand mound - hill? dune? Whatever the word was, it was too hot to even try to think - and saw something moving.

Squinting your eyes impossibly small you believe it's a bike, the rider was maybe a man? Could be a strong woman.

Either way they were your help.

You jogged down the sand and waved your hands at them.

“Hey!”

The bike spun around and headed back towards you.

You waited, no use wasting energy when they were coming your way right?

Hopefully they spoke English. If not they still could tell you where you were.

As the bike approached you knew the rider.

“Victor?” You'd met him once. Logan had tried to keep him at bay, keep the two of you separate but you did cross paths.

“Why's a pretty lady like you asking?” His eyes scanned your body. He was wearing a black Stetson and a long leather - in this heat?! - coat.

“It's me.” That was helpful. “It's Y/N, we met briefly. I'm Logan's wife.”

He chuckled. “What one?”

Ouch.

Okay.

“Dude, you're my brother in law don't be an ass.”

He sneered.

“Fine," Your hands flew up. "You can be an ass but please tell me: where are we?”

Victor took the Stetson off and dusted it. “Limbo, Purgatory, neither here nor there.”

You wanted to sass him but something he said rang true. This place didn't feel real, it felt like a sort of limbo. In the scraps you had found vintage TVs and futuristic clothing. Neither here nor there.

“We're dead?” You don't remember dying. Would you remember dying? Could you remember it if you were dead?

More importantly you weren't overly religious so where were you?! Which God was the right choice? You had your money on the Greeks.

“Doesn't feel like death.” He held his hat, observing your inner ramblings.

“I wouldn't know.” He and his brother had died countless times so, out of the two of you, he was the most qualified.

“We’re alive, just in a pit. It's bottomless and hungry.”

“Stop being ominous.”

He shrugged with a smirk.

“So we're alive but in some sort of wasteland?”

“Yup.”

Right.

When were you going to wake up?

“Okay, well, how'd you feel about a team up?”

He scoffed a laugh but realised you were serious and his smile vanished. “You're dead weight.”

As if being family was going to get you through this. Don't be stupid.

“Where's Logan?”

“I ain't seen a Logan for years.”

“What do you ‘a Logan’?”

“People here come in doubles, triples. Different worlds crashing together.”

“Well, where's my Logan?” He was quiet. “Are you even my Victor? Have we even met?”

“No.” He replaced his hat before revving the engine. “But I got places to be.” You watched him leave and could have sworn his eyes flashed yellow.

\\

The woods were the same.

Fuck, we get it! Everything is the same!!!!

You walked through the familiar path to exit the grounds. You didn't even have to think about it, your body relying on muscle memory that you had thought was lost years ago.

Logan had brought you here, dragging your ass out of bed and into town. The first time he had done it, he had driven Scott's bike but he soon found he enjoyed the walk with you.

The night could last longer.

You could just be two people staggering home instead of X-Men or Mutants or Teachers.

The trips were more frequent once you had gotten used to the branches and roots.

Town was a good twenty minute walk once you were off it Xavier's land.

You knew you shouldn't be entertaining this idea.

You didn't belong in the mansion so what did you think you'd get out of this?

Maybe you should ask someone.

No.

They'd get it but they wouldn't.

Elektra would tell you to follow your heart, Logan would be against it in case you got upset, Wade wouldn't care unless you brought him a pastry.

Laura and Gambit were here, enjoying themselves and the others that you would have asked don't know enough about you to form an opinion.

Just looking at the building might help?

Seeing her inside of it.

You wanted a hug.

A tear slipped from your eye as you realised you really wanted a hug.

She gave the warmest hugs.

The last time you received one was when you were eighteen, that was the last time you returned home for the holidays as the next years you were looking after students.

Your mother didn't mind. She was doing a lot better without you.

Money stretched further and she had gotten a new job.

Your pocket buzzed but you couldn't bring yourself to look at it.

It would be Logan. He'd be asking if you were okay and you'd have to lie and say yeah because what he was doing was important. He needed to talk to Victor like you needed to see your mother.

You wouldn't tell her.

How could you?

‘hi, I'm the daughter you never had!’

But… you could try a tart?

You had walked off the estate and we're now on the road. There was a country lane which led into a small village type town. It was new looking but each building was old, the town had character. You loved seeing a job centre have ornate carved stone walls.

There it was.

It was pink, a pale pink. Ballerina satin.

There was dark wood panelling on the windows and sign, giving the whole shop a homely vibe.

An assortment of goodies were in the window and a man that you had seen on her Facebook was mopping the flour covered floor.

Do you go in?

Well, you can't realistically stay outside staring into the window. She'll think you're a freak!

You couldn't be a freak in her eyes in two universes.

The man looked up and gave you a bright smile through the glass before mouthing ‘we’re open’. You nodded and pushed the door. A tinny bell rang as you entered.

The interior was pale pink with hot pink and white accents. The counter was filled to the brim with goodies and a chalk board behind it had custom items you could order.

The smell is what really struck you. You recognised it. Your mother's chocolate chip cookies springing up in your mind. The first batches had been a disaster but once she got it down it was your favourite treat, the memory brought fresh tears to your eyes.

“You alright dear?” The old man asked, placing the broom against the wall.

“Yeah, sorry, just a bit lost.” You smoothed your shirt. “My-I lost my mum and this place reminds me of her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, did she come here?” He questioned.

“No, well, maybe.” How did you answer this? Why had you even disclosed that? “It's the smell of cookies.”

“I’m here if you'd like to talk about her.” You shook your head so he clasped your shoulder. “Take your time.”

You nodded again forcing the tears to stay unshed.

“I’m F/N.”

Right.

Wow.

This… this was your father.

You didn't remember anything about him, your mom had told you that he used to be in your lives but circumstances caused him to leave. You always had the feeling despite what she said you were ‘circumstances’.

“Y/N.”

He grinned. “My favourite name!"

"Is it?" Your name wasn't anything special to you, it was a string of letters and sounds that people used to get your attention but hearing him say it was your favourite name...

"There was a book I used to love, it was fantasy. You would read page one and it would give you an option and when you made your decision you had to turn to page forty and so on. There was a mage called Y/N…” He trailed off in remembrance. “I always thought if we were blessed with a child, I'd pick the name Y/N.”

You played along. “We?”

“My dearest is in the back. M/N!” He hollered.

She waddled from the back room, apron stained, a tea towel in her hands. “Yes?”

“Come and meet Y/N.”

You observed the strain in her legs as she moved. She was a lot older but it was 2024 so she would be. Her face was wrinkled and her hair white. “Y/N? You're not talking about that Dungeons and Dragons book are you?”

“It isn't Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Close enough, sorry dear, I hope he isn't bothering you.”

You shook your head. “No, course not.”

“He tried to convince me to name our dog Y/N and it is a pretty name but the way he used to go on about this super magic hero made me feel left out. He was with her.”

You chuckled.

“No, you're the only woman for me.” He pecked her cheek.

“Only because she's fictional.”

“Exactly.” He nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

“So, what can we get you?” Your mom waved her hand to the display. “Anything here?”

“Oh, yeah. I'll take anything.”

Your father was sweet when he offered, “and cookies?”

“Please.” You plucked your card out. “I'll take everything, one - no - two of everything you have.”

The couple made a face but did begin bagging items.

“Are you going to be able to eat all these?” Your mom asked as packed three slices of pie.

“Yes, it won't be just me eating.”

“Oh, let me guess; are you one of Xavier's gifted?” She tied the box with a ribbon. “Wouldn't it be marvellous to have a power?”

That was fucking twisted.

Your mother being jealous of mutants?

It wasn't fair.

Why couldn't you have been born here?

~~

On the journey back you decided they were made for each other.

Your mom and dad were soulmates.

If only you weren't born, perhaps they could have been happy.

It was trippy seeing your mom but to meet your dad…

You couldnt handle it.

You were right here and they couldn't see you. They couldn't realise who you were. Your mom even hugged you after your dad told her you were mourning.

You had to take a moment to cry in the woods.

Sitting, tears falling freely, eating a tart was how Scott found you.

“Hey. You're Y/N right?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Do you know how insulting it is to hear your brother say that?” He pulled a face. “We were like siblings. The whole team. We were a family.”

Scott didn't know how to respond.

“It's not your fault obviously but it's fucking tiring. I've come home to find that it isn't mine and it can't be. I don't belong here. Hell, even my mom wouldn't name her dog after me.”

.

.

@killerwendigo @littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @ravenmedows @electricreader @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Okay so in this post, you said this of Scar & Grian: Highway robbers. Specialize almost exclusively in armed robberies, but take commissions every now and there

I don't know if thats just the aUtism tm but i read this as "they specialize in armed robberies but sometimes take commissions where the robbery is NOT armed as a lil challenge" little to add to that, this was a very funny image this conjured in my brain. Ok but seriously, what did you mean by that? What else are they doing with their time? Are the commissions specifically NOT robberies? Like infiltration sneaky spy stuff?

by commissions i mostly meant contract killing, to be honest. Its not something Grian really does, but Scar has his bounty hunter sniper experience and Grian doesnt mind helping him with a hitman buisness for some extra money

a bit more in depth info about both of them below. Bonus Grian headshot as i already posted the bounty hunter Scar drawings... he has normal goggles and noise-cancelling earmuffs

Scars bounty hunting experience really is very handy to both of them; Grians main speciality (other than hobbyist illegal racing, i suppose) are robberies and all sorts of explosives-related buisness. His earthian upbringing made him a great thief, his first years in space made him great with explosives, but its Scar who really made him a great high-stakes highway robber. When Scar first joined him, Grian wasnt nowhere near Pearls bounty yet, being freshly out of earthian organized crime and trying to become someone in the new space world (a fun fact is, he was pretty popular in illegal racing circles. Its something he picked up really fast and likes to do). Scar on the other hand had years of experience fighting crime, but was pretty new and naive when it came to being a criminal himself; what doesnt help is that its a choice he made by himself and not a consequence of something bigger, like in Tangos case. He was just dissatisfied with centralized bounty hunting and the way everyone treated him, to a point where he decided to not only leave but also turn against them. While he isnt great at it first, he knows how hunting works and what to avoid, keeping himself and Grian safer. His knowledge is what saves Grian after his encounter with Martyn (Grian finds the tracking device Martyn put on his ship and destroys it; something Tango doesnt do when the same thing happens to him near the finale, which leads to everyone getting captured). Not to mention Scars extreme proficiency with riffles and bows is what makes these robberies truly possible in the first place; they are a great duo. Through Scar Grian also met Cub, who isnt a criminal himself, but doesnt mind helping Scar with whatever he needs, and is a tech guy to them in a way (before Cub, Grian only had Mumbo, who doesnt exactly... understand the criminal world. I really need to draw his ship at some point its so extra and fun. But this isnt about him)

At some point both of them went into specifically highway robberies. When i say highway i want you to imagine something like the astral gates from cowboy bebop; literal circular "gates" in space that allow to travel through space in a much shorter time. Grian and Scar usually attack their targets in strategic places between the guarded gates. Its worth mentioning that the reason theyre doing a fairly risky kind of robbery is that they need the money to pay back Doc; so much so that they actually try to rob a space train, which is the thing they needed Tangos help with