#wilt was Not Happy with what happened in the prison

[lemon-slushie]

EPIPHYLLUM IS SO BACK ‼️‼️‼️‼️

My boinky

Her lore if u want it!

She’s the daughter/creation of millennial tree and sugar swan from an epiphyllum flower (the one on the back of her head, it’s a part of her body), but most of her magic comes from millennial tree, such as creating plant life and such(bring back Mary sues)

She created the beast yeast forest before it was used as a prison for the beasts, the forest was originally named the midnight star forest (Epiphyllums bloom at night and wilt at day) The forest was dense and beautiful with large trees that blocked out the sun and glowing spores that lit up the dim floor under the trees. As she continued crafting it cookies began visiting and soon inhabiting it.

- she spent years putting together her forest and caring for the life within it, it was quite the sight to see before the witches forced the beast prisons into it. The magic and chaos that seeped from the beast prisons greatly impacted her forest causing many of her creatures to become hostile, this also dampened her magic immensely

After the beast were added Epiphyllum did the best she could to defend her cookies and return everything to its original state but due to her magic weakening it was of no use, eventually all of the cookies who once lived there quickly evacuated, except for the new faerie kingdom ofc, and began warning all travelers of the evil in the forest

This quickly caused many rumors and tales that twisted the truth of Epiphyllums forest and caused it to become a sort of myth as years passed, the original name being lost to time and becoming known as “beast yeast” to anyone who heard of it

Epiphyllum was absolutely crushed, all of her work and care ripped from her, her forest was her pride and joy

- she specifically dislikes elder faerie because she’s envious of him. After all the destruction from the beasts he still has a lively and glowing kingdom, every time she sees it her heart aches for what she once had.

Years pass and Epiphyllum still roams the forest with her butterfly lantern because she still cannot bare to part with it, clinging to the hope she can fix it. She’s tried to get help from both her parents, and while it works temporarily it never stays. They cannot devote all of their time to a lost cause. But Epiphyllum still holds out hope that she can fix it and all of her cookies will return to her and life will go back to what it once was.

After years of loneliness something happens, White Lily finds beast yeast, and she is excited to be there. Happy to see all of the life in the forest. Epiphyllum is enthralled to see someone find the beauty in her forest once more, even with how much it’s fallen. She quickly befriends white lily, guiding her safely through the forest and chatting with her about everything she’s made. White lily is genuinely interested and happy to speak to her, Epiphyllum is over joyed.

- She has spent that past years alone and working and to finally have someone who notices fills her heart. She’s happy. She takes white lily everywhere she can think of, her old villages, springs, flower fields, all of it. Maybe it was her intense loneliness but she falls quick for white lily, she loves how curious she is and how they talk for hours.

eventually white lily finds silver bell and goes the faerie kingdom, epiphyllum stays behind, still holding a grudge.

- Epiphyllum is sad to see white lily take more interest in the faerie kingdom but doesn’t say anything, she’s happy as long as white lily is. She occasionally enters the kingdom to check in on lily and talk to her and hang out but always returns to her forest, refusing to stay as the faeries are also quite awkward around her as in the past she lurked around their walls and would very rarely speak to elder faerie if he approached her first.

- When visiting white lily she noticed her bond with elder faerie had grown quite a lot, this only deepened her disdain for him, but once again she allowed it to slip by because white lily was happy

One day Epiphyllum entered the kingdom to see white lily but was stopped by elder faerie, telling her white lily had left to go the gathering of witches.

- Epiphyllum quickly becomes enraged, yelling at elder faerie for letting her basically walk into her own death. She doesn’t care what defense he has and quickly storms out and desperately searching her forest in hopes to find her before it’s too late but instead she finds nothing. She now truly resents elder faerie and blames him completely for the loss of white lily.

after dark enchantress is created and white lily is comatose in the faerie kingdom Epiphyllum can be frequently found at her casket. Elder faerie told her about the casket, as he felt it was wrong to not let her know since he knew she cared about her deeply. He’s tried talking to her since and offers to let her stay in the kingdom so she isn’t lonely. These only end in arguments as Epiphyllum cannot bring herself to forgive him and wants nothing to do with him or his ungrateful kingdom.

Then ofc white lily wakes up and the beast yeast story happens. Epiphyllum is ecstatic to see her back but hesitates as she watches her interact with pure vanilla and elder faerie, seeing how happy she is without her and the way she talks about pure vanilla hurts her. All she wants is white lily but she knows white lily needs more than her.

She sinks back into her forest and watches as it crumbles further from the magic of dark enchantresses creations and the beasts waking up and breaking free from their prisons

- Wind archer finds her after being sent to beast yeast and gives her a reality check, her forest is no longer hers and never will be again and staying there is wilting and killing her, she needs to leave or she can die having wasted her life on something that doesn’t exist anymore

- After a bit of denial she gives in and returns to the millennial forest where she goes into a deep rest to regain her power

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Another lonely morning greets you. The chirping of birds and the yellow haze of sunlight does little to warm your bed. You stretch your arm out, feeling the empty space beside you. You lift your hand and stare at the ring you forgot to take off, as you often do. Sometimes, you just don’t want to. Sometimes you think if you do, he’ll truly be gone. 

Your husband isn’t gone though. Just absent. Just away on business. What's the difference?

You sit up and that knot under your shoulder pangs. You don’t sleep well without Loki near. Even after all this time, you’re not used to it. You wonder if he lays awake in his hotel beds. 

You go to the bathroom and wake yourself up with a splash of cold water. The day unfolds slowly around you as the dregs of sleep recede to painful reality. Alone. Again. Just like every day. When you said til death do you part, you didn’t think it would be a walking death. 

You wash and dress, for no reason in particular. You suppose because you should look human if you go outside. You sit and drink your tea in the kitchen as you watch the news on your phone. Current events only make you feel worse about the world. Even in your suburban paradise, there is no joy. 

You close out the player and tap on your messages. The last text you got from your errant husband was two nights ago. He landed safely. He doesn’t respond unless you message first. You’re starting to forget the days when he would rush in the door and sweep you off your feet. There is only numbness left where once you tingled. 

You’ll talk. Yeah, you’ll sit down and communicate and make it all better. Sure, that’ll happen. You laugh at yourself as you rinse the mug and leave it in the sink. You say that to yourself every time and then he comes home and it’s just silence. 

This isn’t a home, it’s a prison. At least you get outdoors time here. 

You step into your slippers and go outside, grabbing your gardening gloves as you tie on the tool belt with trowel, rake, and spade tucked in the pockets. You roll your shoulders and stretch, groaning as the dull jab remains under your shoulder blade. You need to stop reading in bed. 

As you near the soil along the walk, you stop short. Dirt litters the pavement and petals scatter all around. You near fall to your knees, staggering instead as you grasp at your stomach. No, no, no. 

You stare down at the ruin of your tulips. Not just any tulips but the pink and white ones you’d been nursing for weeks. The ones you bought yourself to mark your tenth year of marriage. The gift you never got from your husband because he couldn’t fit you into his calendar. 

“Ugh!” You exclaim and stomp the broken stems. “I hate you!” 

You stamp your feet in the dirt, spreading the mess, jumping up and down as your anger swells and your hurt flows over. That damn squirrel! That pest! That horrid creature! 

You kick through the other flowers, crushing peonies and pansies and violets. You don’t care about any of it. It doesn’t matter. It all just wilts and dies. It’s all just a bunch of bullshit. 

You clutch your head and collapse on your heels, sitting on your knees as you hang your head forward. It’s not the flowers. You know it’s not. The one thing you don’t want to think about is the only thing you can think about. 

You stay like that, sobbing into the ruin of your front garden. How pathetic you must look in your old Gap tee shirt and oversized sweatpants. If any of those HOA cyborgs walked by, they’d surely give you a citation. 

“Pardon,” a voice breaks through your tragedy and you close your eyes.  

You’re delusional. You have to be imagining things. It sounds just like him. Like your Loki. You turn your head and open your eyes, lashes webbed with tears. You sniff and quickly mop them away. Of course it wouldn’t be your husband. 

“Are you alright? I saw you fall from across the street,” the slim tall man stands on the other side of your iron gate. “Oh my, well, what a mess that chap made of your garden. I’m afraid he had a go at mine as well.” 

You squint and shake your head, “who?” 

“That squirrel fellow. He broke one of my planters as well,” he points with his long index finger. How peculiar. He reminds you of him. Tall, slim, and his nose... 

“That’s... yeah,” you sniffle and look down, using your shirt, to wipe away what’s left of your grief. 

“They must’ve meant very much. Even if they are just flowers, I can empathise,” he says. 

You shrug, “I’m being dramatic.” 

You stand and sweep off your pants. He lingers and you avoid looking at him. You’ve humiliated yourself enough. 

“Tulips,” he remarks. “I’ve some lovely blue ones from Holland if you’d like some bulbs. Can never have too many.” 

“That’s nice of you,” you keep your head down, turning your back to him, “who are you exactly?” 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I’ve not made the rounds yet. I... do you perhaps know a Hattie?” 

“Yeah, across the street,” you mutter. 

“That would be her. My aunt,” he explains, “she’s in need of some assistance, she’s due for surgery, so I’ve volunteered myself as her minder. She always did make the nicest biscuits, I only think it fair.” 

“That’s... nice,” you nearly choke on emotion. It is very sweet and selfishly, you feel worse for hearing it. 

“Needless to say, I’m a bit of a stranger around here,” he continues, “I’m Jonathan, though, if you... care.” 

You take a breath and lower your head, trying to get yourself together. You face him and try to force a smile but only feel like you might start crying again. You enunciate your name through the tension in your lips.  

He repeats it and it nearly takes your breath away, “do I have that right?” 

You have to hold back a gasp as you nod.  

“Beautiful,” he remarks, “happy to have a name to the face. I hate to be trouble but you might see me around.” 

“That's… That's okay. I'm sorry. I'm just… having a day,” you try to laugh out your distress but it only sounds fractured. 

“We all do,” he says, “I might be so lucky you never catch me in one.” 

“Sure, uh, I'll… I gotta go inside.” 

“Of course,” he purrs, “I shall let you know if I do catch the menace.” 

You put on a perplexed face. 

“The squirrel,” he says, “I am merciful, never worry. I'll only give him a good fright.” 

“Mm, thanks, er, I'll keep an eye out too.” 

“I do hope your day turns for the better,” he dips his head slightly, “can't complain for the sun, can we?” 

He turns and struts to the curb. You watch as he looks both ways then strolls on, hands in his pockets, a man without a care. You envy him that, but you can't quite place that other thorn in your chest. 

[a-french-coconut]

Part 1 (Will Solace)

Will's dad, Apollo, is the god of a lot of things.

Music, archery, poetry, masculine beauty, knowledge, arts, medicine, sun, light, prophecy, logic and the list goes on.

He has mostly inherited the healing part with some musical and light abilities like his supersonic wisthle and light tricks. He's not good with bows and arrows, he is average with any instruments or singing, does not have prophetic dreams and does not have the same artistic sensibility as his siblings.

He deems himself a healer and only a healer (Aren't you cute ? Trying to deny my very existence ?). His role on the battlefield is not to shed blood but to prevent it from happening. His hands are made for knitting skin back together and glow golden when he sings hymns to his father (oh but they could do so much more...) .

"Shut up".

Will is really happy he's alone right now. Even for demigods, talking to no one is strange. Granted, being alone when he is deep in the woods with no weapon and maybe a little lost is not the best situation he's ever been in, but it is the one he prefers when she decides to invade his mind again.

"I don't understand why you keep trying to convince me."

(Well, there is not much to do except bothering you Will. And who knows ? One day your patience will be running thin and that day...)

"Not happening."

(Ugh, can you at least get me out of your mind ?)

He hesitates. As good as it sounds to have her out of him, he is still wary of letting her roam free. Last time he lost control...

(Oh Will, there is nothing of interest here.)

He is still hesitating, his control slips a little and he feels her getting out, materialising in front of him.

Should any dryad melt from their tree at this instant, they would see a tall blond boy looking sternly at a little girl.

"Gods I had forgotten my Lord's touch on my skin ! How much time did you keep me prisoner in your mind ?" asks the girl basking in the sun.

"Ten years, more or less." Will answers curtly, advancing deeper in the woods. It's not wise but he is not going to take the chance of meeting a camper and explaining why he is talking to a five years old girl.

"I remember when you were five ! Such a cute little child, bright blue eyes, golden locks... well you didn't change that much."

"Just go wander in the woods or something. I didn't let you out of my mind just for you to stay with me."

"As you command."

She disappears quickly, enjoying her short liberty.

Once again alone, Will sits behind a tree and close his eyes, enjoying this rare moment of silence. She had been with him ever since he created her when he was five. Every little child has his imaginary friend that vanish as they grow out of childhood. Except Will's friend who just wormed a place in his mind and became tangible. Her name is Raz. He still loves Rapunzel as much as when he was a kid.

But where Rapunzel heals with her hair, Raz wilts with a touch of her hand.

See, Apollo is the god of many good things but he is a pharmakon, both healer and destroyer. As he is the one who heals, he is also the one who strikes sickness and plague.

And maybe that Will isn't just a healer. Maybe he's a little more than that. Maybe he is as his father is, medicine in one hand and poison in the other.

He doesn't exactly know how it works but he thinks that Raz is the physical representation of his plague powers. When she walks the earth, Will doesn't feel that part of him anymore. Maybe he could do the same with his healing powers ? Manifest them in a human form or something else.

Well for that he'll have to remember how he created Raz in the first place. It surely has to do with what happened after she appeared for the first time but Will isn't very fond of remembering what happened that night.

Giving pneumonia to his very mortal uncle, almost killing him in the process, because he let Raz "have fun" is not something he thinks about with a smile on his face.

Especially when she won't explain why she did it. Since then, Kaz mostly stayed in Will's mind without too much complaints.

He always wondered if his uncle did something to him or those he cares about. It's the only explanation he has. That or he is a sociopath who lashed out under the form of a little girl a deadly sickness on his uncle for fun.

He is going to stick to the former hypothesis.

There have been times where Raz begged him to unleash her if not without restraints, at least through him and he refused, scared of what she would do, of what he would do.

When Lee's head was caved in.

When his siblings died one by one in Manhattan.

Could he have save them ?

Better not dwell on what ifs too long.

Point is, Raz is an everlasting reminder of the monster inside him, a wretched creature who could kill anyone with a simple touch.

He is afraid of her, he is afraid of himself .

Will hears branch snapping and the crunching sound of someone walking on leaves. Raz must have gotten bored.

He sighes, goodbye beloved peace, you will be missed, and gets up. The sun is setting and if he doesn't get back quickly, he'll have to run from the harpies again. He does not want to run right now.

Raz still haven't show her face.

"Come on I know you're there, I heard you."

More rustling but still no little girl.

"Please Raz, I have to get back-"

His words die when from the bushes emerge a hellhound as big as Mrs O'Leary but definitely not as cute as her.

Running doesn't so bad after all.

Branches slap him in the face as he runs in what he thinks is the general direction of Camp. He just have to reach the border and Peleus will protect him. He just need to outpace the hellhound until then, not attract any other monsters on the way back and find Raz.

He hears the growling beast getting closer and forces his legs to go even faster. He'll have to thank his father for beating the god of speed at racing and passing him those godly genes.

Raz, I don't where you are but you need to come back right now !

He never tried contacting her by telepathy before, never wanted to, but this a desperate situation that requires a desperate solution. It's not that he particularly want to hear her whispering in his head again but Will has come to learn that he can't ignore her for too long without feeling like there's a hole, a void waiting to be fill again. It's very hard to function when your very being is incomplete.

A branch hits him hard in the face, causing to fall on the ground. Demigods reflexes mixed with years of training save his life, Will shifting just in time for the hellhound to claw the ground he was laying on a second ago.

A well-aimed kick in the ribs allows him a few more seconds to get up but there isn't time to flee. Here he is, the woods getting darker and darker, battling a monster without weapon because he evidently inherited the logic side of his dad.

As Will readies himself to dodge, the hellhound stars to whimper and blood erupts from his eyes and nose until he is covered in the red liquid. The beast gives one last painful cry before exploding in golden dust.

Behind him stand a proud and smiling Raz, eyes glowing green and tendrils of dark smoke swirling around her.

The way the creature suffered... Will shivers.

He really really does not like that part of himself. He is meant to heal not to butcher.

(Raz's smile disappears, sadness glaze her eyes now a normal brown and with a flick of the wrist, the smoke evaporates.)

Without a word, she goes back to Will's mind, nesting herself in a corner and doesn't utter a word.

Will just shrugs and hastily return to his cabin.

(Do you hate me Will ?)

Her voice is small, insecure, not the arrogant and easygoing one he is used to. The question makes him freeze in his bed.

Does he hates himself ?

"No." he murmurs in the silence of Cabin 7.

There's a legend that says that no lie can be pronounced within walls of the one who does not lie.

Will used to believe it until now.

part 2, 3 and 4 posted !

[sequinsmile-x]

The Fall - Part One: Aaron

It sneaks up on him. Quiet and unassuming until it catches up with him, tapping him on the shoulder just before he’s pulled under by it.

For her it's fast. Every moment she's overlooked, wilfully ignorant of them or not, hit her all at once, knocking all the breath from her lungs.

An exploration into how Aaron and Emily fall in love with each other.

-x-

hiiii friends

I am sure it will surprise no one to know that this was originally intended as a oneshot but quickly got away from me. Part Two, Emily, will be posted tomorrow and Part 3, Aaron and Emily, will be posted on Friday!

This is based on this post, that has lived rent-free in my head for days.

-x-

Words: 2k

Warnings: For this part none, mentions of fertility issues/concerns in part 2

Read over on Ao3 or below the cut

He falls in love with her slowly. 

It sneaks up on him. Quiet and unassuming until it catches up with him, tapping him on the shoulder just before he’s pulled under by it. Wholly unable to do anything to stop it and simultaneously happy to drown in his affection for her. He realises that he’s so used to loving her, the feeling so much a part of him by the time he knows what to call it, that he couldn’t remember how he used to feel before. What used to take up the space in his heart that she had taken residence in, as if it had always been there waiting for her. 

He almost asks her out once. Their closeness, the way Emily looks after him and Jack after Haley dies, half-convinces him that she feels the same way too, her smile wild and bright whenever she looks at him, a sparkle in her eye that makes him breathless.

He gets as far as buying her flowers, so out of touch with the dating game that he second-guesses himself as he’s paying for them, but then a case gets in the way. She starts to pull away from him, something he now knew to be because Ian had escaped from the prison she’d put him in, and Aaron assumes it’s because of him. Because she’d realised how he felt about her and decided he was too much to take on, but was too kind to say anything about it.

The flowers are still in a vase in his kitchen when he gets back from her funeral, the last wilting petal falling onto the counter as he walks into his apartment. 

He tells himself when she’s in Paris, dead to almost everyone but him, that he’d ask her out when she got home, never believing for a second that there was a possibility he’d never see her again. The possibility something he wouldn’t entertain. He’d rather break all the rules, fly out to Paris to see her, than accept they’d slowly become strangers again. 

When she comes home she’s different. She’s still Emily. Still the woman he loves. She’s kind and empathetic and trying a little too hard to fit in, just like she did when she first joined the team. A reflection of a simpler time, back before they’d both been attacked by their personal monsters, shattered by everything that had happened since. A brief footnote in each other's lives. 

A haunting ‘what if’ that would keep him up in the night when he couldn’t sleep. 

He still loves her, but she’s different than she was before. A shell of herself and he sometimes feels like he’s the only one who sees it. The only one who chooses to look past the facade she puts up, the fake smile that came nowhere near the brilliance of her real one. He knows that she doesn’t need someone asking her out, or expecting anything more from her than what she can give, so he doesn’t. 

She needs a friend so that’s what he is for her. A friend. 

It starts when he asks her to tell him when she’s having a bad day and she surprises both of them by sticking to her promise. The following morning he shows up at her new place with coffee and her favourite pastries in hand, his eyes landing on the still stacked boxes of her belongings behind her, and he asks how he can help. He helps her unpack, joking and chatting with her about nothing important as he helps her sort out the belongings she has left from before and the new ones she’s bought since she got home. Just before he leaves she hugs him tightly, her arms banded around his back as he holds her back just as fiercely, breathing in the scent of her new shampoo, a brand she’d re-discovered in France that she liked. 

After that, they spend more and more time together. She comes round for dinner more often than she doesn’t, happy to help Jack with his homework and sit with him after he’s had a nightmare, her arms wrapped around him as she sings him lullabies in whatever language he asks for. After Jack is in bed, she sits with Aaron on the couch and they talk about anything and everything. Over time the conversation shifts towards her time in Paris as well as the time she spent with Ian, telling Aaron details of the job she’d once sworn she’d never tell anyone. 

There are moments, however fleeting, when it’s enough. When he knows that he’d happily suppress his love for her for the rest of his life if he needs to. So desperately in love with her that he knows he’d sit back and watch her fall in love with someone else if that were to happen, her happiness more important to him than his own. 

He’s just finished his paperwork, his case files slipped back into his briefcase for the night, when he hears a knock on his hotel room door. 

He frowns as he walks towards it, well aware that everyone had gone to bed hours ago, that they were likely all asleep. It doesn’t feel surprising when he spots Emily through the peephole, her arms crossed over her chest as she stands outside his room. He opens the door immediately and feels concern spark in his belly at the sight of tear tracks shining on her face in the low light of the hall. 

“Em,” he says, standing back to let her past him into her room, “What’s wrong?” 

“I knew you’d still be awake,” she says, wiping her cheeks as she turns to look at him, “You’re the most…reliable person I know.”

He smiles at her, his eyebrows raised as he shoves his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out for her, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

She lets out a sound thats halfway between a sob and a laugh, “It was intended as one,” she says, her eyes shining as they meet his, her teeth picking at the skin of her lower lip. She shakes her head at herself and starts to head back towards the door. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you-”

Aaron steps in front of her and places his hand on her arm, stopping her from leaving, “You couldn’t ever bother me, Emily,” he says, squeezing her arm, hoping his smile is reassuring, “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Her smile shakes as she looks at him and she nods, wiping another tear from her cheek, “I…I dreamt about Boston,” she says quietly, her chin wobbling as she speaks, “And I…” she shakes her head at herself and laughs humourlessly, “I needed to see you.” 

He shakes off the immediate spark of hope, the way it threatens to ignite in his belly, at the thought that she had come to him. He knows it’s because their pasts are similar. Their demons may have different faces but the damage left behind was the same. Their lives fragmented by the violence they’d never quite be able to escape. 

He’d visited her in the hospital just before she was sent away. She’d still been in a lot of pain, in and out of consciousness so much he’s not even sure she would remember that he’d been there and he’d never been brave enough to ask her. He’d sat next to her bed and kept her company, whispering apologies she didn’t hear and that she’d tell him he didn’t owe if she had heard. He sat and read her chart, committing her injuries into his memory. Each word a part of his penance for failing to protect her, a punishment only he could bring down on himself. 

He knew the injuries to her abdomen had taken a long time to recover from, and that some appointments had followed her home to DC. She had one coming up, one she’d mentioned in passing to him more than once. Her reason for doing so partially because he is her best friend, partially because he is her boss and she needed the time from work. She hadn’t told him exactly what it was for, but he knew she was anxious about it, the way she deeply exhaled whenever she spoke about it the only evidence he needs. 

The sentence from her medical file that he thought about more than anything else was about the brand Ian had left on her chest. 

Small burn in the shape of a clover on left breast. Non-emergent. 

It seemed so callous, both Ian’s burning of her skin and the clinical way it was described by the doctor who had seen it. The thought of it makes him furious, a type of anger he’d only felt once, when Foyet’s face had fractured beneath his fists, firing in his blood. The feeling alone enough to make him wish he could bring Ian back to life just to kill him again himself, to make him suffer for hurting a woman he had once claimed to love. 

He looks her up and down and sees the way she bounces from foot to foot, her hands clasping at her own arms, her discomfort clear, her gaze fixed on the floor. He feels the anger towards Ian licks at his insides again, but he shakes it off. 

She’d already been subjected to so much anger. 

“Come here,” he says, leading her to sit on the bed before he heads for the mini bar, “Scotch?” 

“Yes please,” she replies, and when he turns to look at her she’s got her back against the headboard, her legs against her chest. 

He gets out two of the mini bottles and pours them into glasses and he walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. He passes her one of the drinks and she takes a big sip, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She shakes her head before she drains the rest of her drink and places the now empty glass down on the nightstand, “Not really.” 

He knows he understands her response better than most, that it’s not her shutting him out but trying to process it herself. The ghosts of her past always just a few paces behind her, ready to close the gap just when she thought she was making progress. 

“Did I tell you that Jack is currently into baking cookies?” He says, knowing that the best thing to do was to change the subject, to try and distract her. He feels a sense of pride wash over him when he sees a small smile flicker across her face. 

“You didn’t,” she replies, her body relaxing a little. 

“Apparently they made them at school,” he says, sipping his scotch, “And now it’s all he wants to eat,” he smiles when she does, her amusement clear, “He said he wants to make you some.”

Her smile widens, her dimples peeking out at him in a way that makes him love her even more, “I think I’d like that. Next time I come over for dinner?” She asks, yawning as her shoulders release the last bit of tension. 

“It’s a date,” he says, clearing his throat when he realises what he’s said, finishing his scotch and standing to put the now empty glasses back by the bar, “Do you want another-” he turns to find her fast asleep whilst she’s still sitting up, her head resting against the headboard. 

He smiles and walks over, gently shifting her so she is lying down, well practised at doing so and ensuring she stays asleep from all the nights she’s fallen asleep on his couch after dinner. He pulls the covers over her and presses a kiss to her forehead, unable to stop himself from doing so.

He sleeps on the small couch in his room that night, happy to deal with the back pain and the way she tells him off in the morning if it means she’s okay. 

He’d do anything for her.

-x-

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[unovan-gardener]

The offer to stay for Sinnoh grass type research is still open. To the both of you.

As I said before, I am willing to make any alterations necessary to ensure that you are comfortable.

I'm aware that Sinnoh's pokémon (and on occasion, the trainers) aren't the most friendly, so I will be keeping my battling team on me to prevent any harm coming to you and CD.

I would never let anything harm CD. It would only happen over my fully dead body and even then, my pokémon would still keep them safe.

All I want is CD to be happy and by extension, I wish the same for you.

-@sinnohstruggles

........Alright.

Juniper Frost, I am trusting you with my son. So help me Arceus if you hurt them in any way I will break out of prison and come after you. You do not want to see my rage.

....Sproutling can go to Sinnoh with you for research. If that is what he wants. He's- very upset and volatile at the moment so that may take some time. They've lost a lot of trust in the world today. Please- be gentle with him, and their heart. Despite the cheery demeanor they put on, his disposition is more inclined to Wilting.

[inkblackorchid]

I read your blog about Aki, and I must say that it is very well written, very insightful. I really love the way you described her whole arc, and what she really feels under all that hurt and pain that she goes through, and that all she wants is acceptance, someone who truly cares for her, like how Yusei and the others do. Not for her powers, but for who she is as a person.

I’ve always been curious on what she would do or how she would react if Divine had came back again after he escaped prison and tried to restore the Arcadia Movement (the arc we never got to see). I mean, we saw how she reacted when she saw divine again during her duel with Misty, though I’ve been curious on how she would react after the whole battle with the Dark Signers. Would she be pleased to see him again, or would she be disgusted upon learning that he tried to kill Yusei and Mikage, and for the fact that he pinned Toby’s death on her, and that he actually killed him in his experiments? Would she still see him as a friend after all this?

First of all, thank you for the kind words! I'm very glad you like the super-long post, I've been sitting on the thoughts discussed in it for a while already and I'm happy to see people agree with it.

As for what Aki would do if she were confronted with Divine again after the defeat of the dark signers—personally, I think that would depend on when she would be confronted with him again. We know that despite being horrified by the reveal of what the Arcadia Movement was doing in secret, she still feels some leftover gratitude for Divine after its collapse, even if he was just using her. And though I personally think she owes him absolutely nothing, I understand why she would feel that way and think it's fair. However, that is, of course, before he makes his later, final entrance, tries to kill Yusei and Mikage, admits to killing Toby, and also mind-controls Aki during her duel with Misty. I feel like all these things in tandem with the revelations she already got, over time, might sour her opinion of him. Sure, he helped her, and I could never see her denying that and pretending it didn't happen, but in the end, he was willing to get a lot of blood on his hands, was willing to kill children (who we know Aki wants to keep safe), and even went as far as overriding her autonomy through mind control to sic her on Misty. I think even if you have a very kind heart, that's not something you could easily look past. So I think that shortly after the defeat of the dark signers, Aki might still think she owes him some gratitude... but the farther she gets away from that point, the less she'd feel like she owes him, I think. She'd need time to process it, of course; after all, the Arcadia Movement was a major part of her life and that's not something you just bury willy-nilly (though the show seemed to pretend she could). But in the end, his actions were inexcusable, and he really was just using her, so I think her opinion of him would end up tarnished and, probably, embittered.

That said, funnily enough, "Aki is confronted with Divine again after the defeat of the dark signers" is basically the premise of my first 5Ds fic, To Bloom or To Wilt, which started off my entire Aki fic series. So if you're interested in my take on that confrontation, you can read it here!

[articunochick]

They walked without talking. Hisoka and Tori set the pace behind Meowth, her arm hooked through his for support. She wore flip-flops, the only other shoes she had in her pack, and focused hard on choosing her steps. Hisoka focused hard on her: on her normal-looking toes and not trodding on them, on the musical “hmHMhmm”s and “tsst ts-tssss”s between her sounds of exertion, on the warmth in her touch and the increasing confidence in her movements. By doing so, he could better ignore the angry, stabbing pains in his own leg.

From behind them, Aiden broke the silence.

“Think they’ll notice your hair, Tori?”

Tori shrugged her free arm without breaking stride, then folded it to her chest, curling her fingers into the unbounded tangle swinging there. Hisoka felt her wilt ever-so-slightly against him.

"Should we… get all our stories straight? Before we talk to Oak?" Hisoka asked, glancing back toward Aiden.

"We should."

They kept walking. There was no follow-up from either of them, only the mist-muffled crunching of their footsteps. Hisoka noticed Tori's sporadic happy-noises had died out.

Eventually, Aiden cleared his throat. "....Once upon a time…" he began, "...three friends got lost in the Rotas past Mt. Moon."

After a quarter-kilometer’s silent contemplation, Hisoka offered the next line. "They took a high road to rejoin their group. But on the way…they got caught in a bad landslide."

His eyes slid to Tori and the top of her bowed, blue-tressed head bobbing along beside him. Was she still trying to recall what happened next? Or was she working on forgetting it? Had the landslide and the strangeness after done damage in there?

Tori stayed mum. Patiently, Aiden picked up the thread. "When they woke up, one friend was missing,” he said, “so the other two went to find her.”

Hisoka chuckled at Aiden’s telling. "Are we skipping over the gettin’-our-asses-beat-by-gangsters part?"

Tori's head snapped around to look up at Hisoka, her brows peaked in concern. He had to look away to keep from laughing again at her expression. Whatever Tori was imagining behind those wide eyes, it came with a detectable hint of awe.

Imaginary Prisons (Pokémon SPL/ICE) - CHAPTER 70: Almost to the Rendezvous

[myforrest2]

Crack house

i see how mass shootings happen

deshaun Watson's tiktok

operation white coat

frumpy body girl. i'm shallow

mental health issues in my family

donte and white titties

molestor uncle

phone sniffin dogs . thanks kamala

china made a sun

goochland va powhite

white women fuck like bots

happy wife happy life

who got better pussy

brett griner

rape fantasies on reddit

racist AI. white people writing code

dont fuck the students at tsu

gaping asshole porn

levels to dv. neigbor got into a dv situation

you gotta be able to fight if ur abusive

country line dancing in 6th grade

growing up christian concervative

i never believed in covid

having nigerian friends

menopause is a funny concept (the last egg)

wish i dates white women cuz the swifties are out!

million white women march

taylor farrakhan

who decided at the meeting that they were selling bean pies

trans women get a taste of getting offended and cant handle

i want to tell trans jokes but everytime, my dick gets cut off

her tax dollars paid for me to do home invasions but she wanna tell me what i can say

id snort midol if i were a woman

3 months of period and 9 months off

the purge for periods 9 months of peace 3 months of chaos

asking about organic vagina new vagina

synthetic vagina vs vagina

dont stop believing can end racism

stacy abrams dresses like hillary clinton

gmo coochie

my red flags

levels to the horny. showin ur face on pornhub

porn on the family computer

first std test

did ur granny fuck wilt chamberlain

used to be a therapist but it got to be too stressful

happy husband happy marriage

how often do u suck his dick ladies?

church revivals coachella for church

part trans cuz circumcised

so easy to scam women wish i had the heart to do it

nothin brings pussy together likes some and scammin niggas

navigating life being objectified

i'm more than my period

women put u in risky situations

they put bombs in the trash

gotta do everything when u Black

being black is annoying

quantum leap

asians are dark skinned white people

disney couldnt find enough swimmin niggss for little mermaid

vasectmy b4 it was fashionable

slave bible

i go to switzerland

drake's bed is made of horse hair and stingray skin

spelman and cosby

relationship with bpd. she can only handle some of my personalities not all of them

cerebral palsey dude's wheelchair stole

cant wait for sex work to be uberred

prayer for the gay demons

y is it always the stud that gets pregnant

first vasectomy nutt

waited for coochies to freshen up before i ate them

prison rapes kept me out of prison

ex wife had two babies

jump started a period

my mom helped plan my dad's funeral

forrest gump had full blown aids in philadelphia

women LOVE subtitles

suicide by negro. saying nigger at the atl airport

gender reveals for intersex babies

karim juwani tossed her baby in woods wrapped in plastic four years ago

mom shaking babies

construction worker on fire took video

wife beater as wash rag neighbor got in dv

my cousins got basic ass white women

taliban dating show

wilt chamberlain

nutted on my own face once

didn't masturbate til i was in college

heroes dose of shrooms

if he buys you beyonce tickets

honey pack fuckin

trans people they treat caitlyn jenner like black people treat clarence thomas

ain't sucked a dick but sucked toes

i aint a gangst but done gangsta shit

the good molestation from my babysitter's daughter

bv pussy/yeasty pussy

my girl fuck wit me cuz i'm that nigga

i hate the white part of me that tells me what to do

price of chicken goin up

snorting midol

moms love reminding u of how many hours of labor they were in

abortion on a 10 year old rape victim doctot had a tatt off a coat hanger with trust women on it

my dad grew up without infoor plumbing

being able to uberize sex work. ordering a blow job on uber one

chinatown knockoff

white boy jumping off cruise ship

asians & blacks

molestation

disney movies

feeling obligated to jack off to porn i paid for

uber sex (sex work)

trans reparations

dating black women is an olympic sport

called the sex line on gmas phone

scammed by uber

MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC

patchy beard but got asshole hair

homeless whites & Asians

c* vid had people keeping count of death

getting old ( aunt marry droolin on herself)

men washing ass (water bottles to wash ass in iraq)

make the money make the rules

comedy humbles u

pandemic paychecks (ppp loan)

black woman will make or break u (cooked in an oven love)

fuckin bbws is awkward 4 me

american black women make me feel like im trans cuz they cut my dick off til i pull out that check

i rode the short bus to the talented and gifted classes

in tag i had to do extra

in tag it was nothing but white people, another brotha came in there and i said he must have had a mom that really cared about his education. i got punched in the stomach for it

get a trans friend cuz they will get reparations first. black people too disorganized

gotta trick your woman into giving u some pussy

i miss drugs

i'll get my dick back from my girl when i make money. i wont get all of it back cuz she's a black woman "niggas ain't shit"

arguin with my girl is worse than arguin with my mom. mom took away nintendo girl takes away pussy

i act like a woman when a woman leaves me. cuz i have ababdonment issues

Jim Crow needs to make a cameo appearance every 10 years to wake niggas up.

i don't cheat cuz i gotta use a condom

fovrite movie is forrest gump. sequal to forrest is philadelphia

i used to be a social worker but my dick stopped working so i had to quit

what's the wildest thing a woman has told you during sex?

love dont exist anymore. im gonna put my women on one year contracts

white name in black body

if i were a serial killer my victims would b homeless black women

carlee fucked it up for yall

i blew up a kid's face in iraq. i hope he becomes president so i can be part of his origin story

watching couples fuck

white people treat slavery like women treat accountability

alien pussy

be funny watchin my married potnas getting punked by their wives

sexxy red went to my highschool

Gilgo beach killer spaced out his white woman victims

I remember when I had to fake like Lizzo's music for some coochie. Oh the lies we men tell.

God is good all the time and all the time God is gooD

Coochie is pink booty hole brown

my skin is light but my comedy is dark

titties lookin right no lefts

If you could own slaves, how many would you have?

Those MAPs folks are jacking off to all the first day of school pics

kamala harris had an orgasm when the tory sentence came down

kelsey shot meg cuz women will shoot each other over the same dick

had a woman tell me she couldn't figure me out

women want to figure us out so they can control our minds

Glad they didn't call me a baby killer when i got back from Iraq

women that have had abortions got that fire

It was lookin like a baby holocaust when abortions were legal. I dated a woman that aborted 2 babies by the same dude. Those could have been 2 Amazon fulfillment workers.

these mew generation of parents have no control over their kids . cryin toddler in hawaii

i love watching kids act out in public . the parents look like they're trying to solve a calculus problem.

mom used basic math, pinching and threats

black women say shit that make u want to punch...... or shoot them. white women say shit that make u want to kill them

these hoes start talkin like chat gbt when you catch them on some bullshit

got evicted with a wife & 2 kids.

named my son after a member of jodeci but my bm swear she named him

serial killer my victims would be homeless black women

i want to date a non verbal autistic woman

ladies can you cover your ears during my set so we men could have a good time?

i wish black women would suck dick the way they suck the fun out the room

being part white is annoying cuz i got a gluten allergy

lake lanier pussy

jim crow day

how to keep a dude from raping u

white people fuck like bots

cub scout leader died so i didn't get molested

getting a black womans love is like trying to get a laugh from black folks

sex farms

pullin pussy with a telegraph machine

"come thru" in morse code

i'm not a conspiracy theorist i'm just a nigga that has never trusted the government

the holocaust was an inside job

how many niggas would black people sacrifice to get the jew treatment

chlamydia the reggie of stds

u know its fire when she burn u and u still wanna fuck

how many cows is your coochie worth

worst fears are heights, deep water & seeing my daughters titties on reddit

met an ethiopian bbw

tranny porn overstimulation

things that annoy me: fat niggas that ain't funny

student loans

dental damn

being black is a game of dodging diseases and gun violence

trump 2 real for black women they voted for a dude that don't take care of his responsibilities

glad i aint the uncle in the back room doin heroin

coochie after the club trick

low low low price of pussy

how i decide to go raw

men would have babies and not abortions cuz it would require us to go to the doctor

abuse is relative

dad was an aspiring preacher like an aspiring rapper

ai is the cotton jin

black womn patten for heater

giving homeless dick

field vs deployment

jail vs. prison

pregnancy test vasectomy

foreskins

drugs are for young boys

people with guns are scared bitches

lgbt DV do studs hit their girlfriends with their straps

post ops arr funnier than pre ops

dick losing a step

2% gay

- [ ]

pop art and anime

working for pussy

[ihatedtoadmit]

(Un)requited love

pairing: Lee Know x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff (sprinkled in)

warnings: lack of communication, blood

word count: ~2.5k

summary: Emotions are your bane of existence, more than you'd think.

a/n: I know I said I'd post this sooner, but my mind was holding me prisoner. I apologise. Either way, I hope you enjoy this and the pictures I've chosen. I'm trying to make my fics prettier, so feedback is always welcomed. I also do have a general taglist, just write to me if you're interested. That's all, happy reading!

A Guide to the AU, in case you are unfamiliar with it (it does spoil the surprise though).

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

It started out small, a nearly unnoticeable feeling budding inside my chest, rooting itself there as if to make sure I would never be able to get rid of it. But how could I, when the cause of it was so alluringly sweet, irresistible no matter what I’d done? When the mere sight of his sparkling eyes brought a small smile to my lips, when the cheerful sound of his laughter sounded like gentle bell chimes ringing in the wind? How would I ever be able to let these wilt, to let my world become grey and monotone?

It had taken me weeks to realise the effect he had on me, too late to do anything by then. His presence itself brought me joy, taking every chance I could to spend by his side as a silent spectator. I was content with watching him fool around with the others, nor did I mind being dragged into all kinds of silly adventures, his happiness my own one in and of itself. I never minded it, how he joked around with Hyunjin, or how he clung to Jisung, or the softness that lingered in his eyes whenever he looked at any of the boys he called family.

None of that mattered, not even the specially crafted closeness he shared with each member, carefully reserved for every single one of them. Something I couldn’t achieve, no matter how long I’d known him. There was always a certain gap between him and me, something I could feel and never leap over. Thus, we were only ever good friends, and nothing more.

I was truly fine with it all, until our nearly daily meetings turned into weekly, the chat log we shared turning silent and cold. It was as if that gap that had been placed between us grew in size, devouring everything and turning into a chasm of hopelessness. At first, I thought I could still patch it up, at the very least bring it back to its smaller size.

But I couldn’t.

With each passing day and with each ignored message, I could feel the roots expanding inside my chest, dangerously squeezing the organs together. It was as if tiny needles were wedged between each miniscule cell, agony coursing through my veins. And yet… I ignored and pushed the numbing feeling to the back of my mind. It was nothing after all, nothing of importance.

My phone buzzed, my tired legs taking me to the device from the bathroom quickly.

It was Chan.

The man had a heart made out of gold, becoming a good friend of mine over these short months. Even after Minho’d started to ignore me, Chan never failed to check in on me regularly, never missing a week. His gesture caused a bittersweet feeling to linger in my chest. It was as if he was sensing what was happening.

I quickly replied to his message, telling him I was fine. He didn’t hesitate to respond, although his next question caused me to do a double-take.

‘Are you free this friday?’ the message read, causing my eyes to furrow in deep thought. I had no plans for that day so far, yet the mere thought of meeting the person who’d been ghosting me left a bitter taste in my mouth. Minho never told me why he was acting cold so suddenly, leading my anxiety-filled brain down a rabbit hole of despair.

Despite all that, my fingers typed out an affirmative reply, as if they had a mind of their own. I could only watch Chan’s enthusiastic reply with an empty gaze, a heavy sigh leaving me after I’d locked my phone and gently threw it back onto my bed, plopping right next to it face down.

I was so tired.

Tired of these questions circling in my head, tired of this taste in my mouth, tired of life’s unfairness.

I was so tired of it all.

-.-.-

The days went by relatively quickly, Friday arriving at my doorstep at last. It wasn’t hard to choose what to wear for this little get-together as I’ve long grown comfortable with the presence of the idols, knowing fully well they didn’t mind if I wore simple clothes in their midst. Looking my image over one more time, I swiped at my lips, catching the last bit of that rosy colour and washing it down the drain. It would be fine, I kept telling myself, a deep breath rattling my ribcage like a trapped little bird.

The ride over to their place was quick and silent. The driver they’d sent over never really initiated any small talk. It was something I was usually grateful for, yet maybe this once it would have distracted my troubled thoughts for just a bit.

Having been at their place countless times now, my body automatically knew the directions it had to take, their door soon appearing in my vision. I could hear their loud voices from where I stood, yet their playful tone told me there was no argument between them, mere playful teasing.

Two gentle knocks broke the boisterous atmosphere, their voices quieting down before hasteful footsteps could be heard.

Felix opened the door for me, his bright smile only widening once he’d laid eyes on me.

“Hey, I missed you so much! I’m so glad you’re here, we were just discussing what to play!” - he excitedly rambled out, arms not even hesitating to tightly wrap themselves around me.

I replied back to him, a hand softly patting his hair as he buried his head into the crook of my neck. I let him stay there until he was satisfied, knowing fully well how much the idol loved skinship.

“Yah, Lixie, stop hogging my bestie!” - a familiar voice shouted from inside, soon followed by a few thuds before I was ripped out of Felix’s arms, now trapped in someone else’s hold. “I wasn’t doing that, what the fuck mate!” - Felix countered, yet it was as if the male who had me in his hold didn’t even hear him. “I missed you soooooo much. Now, let’s go to the others.” - Changbin muttered out, voice muffled by my clothes as he’d pressed himself impossibly close to me.

I didn’t even have a choice in the matter as he’d lifted me up, carrying me away to where I assumed the others were, all the while Felix was whining at how unfair it was to him. The rapper just scoffed and argued back, never loosening his hold on me. He only let go once we were in their living room – a small wave sent towards the other members – , gently plopping me down on the sofa. And then he proceeded to plant himself into my lap, something that only created a smaller argument as not only Felix, but a few others wanted to have me sit by them. Or on them. You get the point.

And as they were playfully arguing around me, I couldn’t help but erupt in laughter, the situation utterly ridiculous-looking.

“What? What’s so funny?” - Chan asked, who was also part of this laughable scene.

The others joined in with their own questions, only making me laugh harder and harder, to the point of nearly falling out of Changbin’s hold onto the floor.

“I think you should all just sit down onto your asses, before you kill our friend here with your stupid questions.” - Seungmin stated, earning a few not so kind comments in return.

Despite that, they did as they were told, settling down and letting me calm down as well.

It was utterly absurd, yet their actions helped calm my nerves and loosen my stiff form. They didn’t even know how much they were helping me, how they continued soothing my burning lungs and scratchy throat. I leaned into Changbin, letting him wind his arms around me, securing me in place as we all settled on what to play. They chose Mario Kart, because of course they had to play that again, despite having played that countless hours already with little to no change to the end results.

Hours went by, the atmosphere around us bright and joyous, but still…

There was one person missing this entire time, his presence not there to light up the place. I was stupidly afraid to ask where he was, not wishing to know the answer. Because why else would Minho not be here, other than to avoid me? Why else would he miss out on a relaxing time with his group when no one else was working, but to not see my face?

My lungs painfully squeezed together, each breath turning smaller and smaller, rattling so loudly in the damaged cavity that I was afraid the others would hear it. Each inhale of air was agonising, the roots painfully making their presence known, while each exhale nearly forced me to cough, the taste of iron and copper growing more and more obvious in my mouth.

It was growing more and more apparent that I had to hide away and fast, my hands slightly shaking as I pried away the ones that held me in place. At their questioning glances, I uttered out the goal of my hastiness, urging them to not pause the movie for my sake.

I didn’t wait around for their answer, long strides taking me towards their bathroom, the door closing behind me with an audible click. I tried to lock it as well, not wishing to risk them opening it on me amidst my suffering. Although the action was seemingly impossible, a cough clawing its way out of my throat, so violent I was forced to kneel in front of the porcelain bowl, pristine white now stained red.

With each poorly suppressed cough came more drops of the once beautiful colour, petals of pink joining it in a flurry of blushing colours. I didn’t have time to think about the possibilities, the what ifs in case the others had heard me. No, this time around the organism inside my chest was vicious, mercilessly ripping tissue apart with ease. I’d had half a mind to not loudly scream in pain, the inside of my chest and throat hurting and hurting and just hurting so much I couldn’t breathe. With a shaky hand I let go of the bowl – nearly slipping without the much needed support – , determined to get rid of the thing that was blocking the path of the much needed air.

A loud snap could be heard as I yanked at it, an entire stem dangling from my fingertips, all adorned with leaves and flowers. They were small, thankfully not one with thorns, yet they hurt only more.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the stained pink petals as I was heaving for air, quite ironic that they were causing me so much pain, when they symbolised quite the opposite. Or rather, the one who they represented wasn’t there to do so, leaving me to be miserable alone.

The soft call of my name could be heard in the room, shaking me out of my daze as I’d nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his voice.

Wide, frightened eyes looked up at him, the door wide open with no sign of damage, only a smeared speck of blood near the lock. Our eyes met, his own mirroring my own, although his was tainted with horror. I could merely watch him stand there, chocolate-brown hair stuck to his glistening forehead, clothes clinging to him for dear life. His chest wasn’t moving though, frozen in fear, a feeling that was quick to seep into his whole being, along with mine.

Not even a blink could tear my attention away from him, eyes glued to his lips that opened and closed a few times, seemingly thinking about saying something. I awaited the obvious flurry of questions, the harsh words, the hurt, everything.

Yet, none of that came.

No, Minho merely approached me, actions slow and steady. It was as if he was nearing a wounded animal, the hold on my hand gentle as he pried the stained flower out of my clasp. I merely let him, too exhausted to move at all. Breathing took away all my remaining strength, the simple thought of shaking his hand off sounding too tiresome.

Thus, I watched his every move with rapt attention, drinking in how every touch over my skin was caring as he wiped the blood off, how gently he held my head as he looked for any unseen wounds. His eyes gazed into mine, pools of amber and brown swirling inside, all washed over with worry and pain.

He broke the contact eventually, turning his attention to cleaning the toilet at last. The sound of the flush made my ears ring.

“I’m sorry.” - I muttered out, voice so broken and raspy even I could hardly make out the words.

As if that mattered not to him, Minho turned back towards me, hands gently cradling my face once more.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. This was as much your fault as mine, jagi, if not fully mine.” - he replied with a soft smile, a cough interrupting his serene expression.

He doubled over in pain, my own hands trying to soothe him as I stroked his back, wishing to grant him comfort, despite everything. Every cough sounded pained and strained, awfully familiar as my own chest tightened in recognition.

“I… I’d be quite a hypocrite if I didn’t apologise as well.” - he wheezed out, holding up something horrifyingly familiar.

It was a vermillion-coated pink petal, yet the smears weren’t able to hide the black spots scattered all over its surface. The thought of him suffering the same fate I’d been never occurred to me, the idea of him falling in love with me so deeply only sounded like a bad joke at best.

“I’m sorry as well, so don’t cry, please?” - his question was so sincere as he looked up at me, shaky hand placed back onto my tear-stained cheek.

The crystal droplets I didn’t even realise I had just kept flowing, seemingly running from an endless pool. It didn’t matter that he tried to wipe them away, their numbers were endless. So, he settled for a simple caress of the skin, urging me to subconsciously lean into his hold. My own shaky hand found his, settling on top, wishing to drink in his warm presence as much as I could.

“There’re so many things I need to, want to tell you, but… I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t remember how life was without you in it.”

His eyes glistened with his confession, the truth mirrored in his own glistening tears as they raced down his flushed skin. It was my turn to wipe them away, a gentle smile painted onto my lips as the words he’d uttered started settling into my soul, leaving their permanent mark.

“I love you too, Minho, my silly muse of life.”

Taglist: @michelle4eve @atinyniki

[lemon-slushie]

I would love to learn about Epiphyllum!

Yippee!! I’ll do a like outline here, and it’s a total yap attack so I’ll put it under read more

She’s the daughter/creation of millennial tree and sugar swan from an epiphyllum flower (the one on the back of her head, it’s a part of her body), but most of her magic comes from millennial tree, such as creating plant life and such(bring back Mary sues)

She created the beast yeast forest before it was used as a prison for the beasts, the forest was originally named the midnight star forest (Epiphyllums bloom at night and wilt at day) The forest was dense and beautiful with large trees that blocked out the sun and glowing spores that lit up the dim floor under the trees. As she continued crafting it cookies began visiting and soon inhabiting.

- she spent years putting together her forest and caring for the life within it, it was quite the sight to see before the witches forced the beast prisons into it. The magic and chaos that seeped from the beast prisons greatly impacted her forest causing many of her creatures to become hostile, this also dampened her magic immensely

After the beast were added Epiphyllum did the best she could to defend her cookies and return everything to its original state but due to her magic weakening it was of no use, eventually all of the cookies who once lived there quickly evacuated, except for the new faerie kingdom ofc, and began warning all travelers of the evil in the forest

This quickly caused many rumors and tales that twisted the truth of Epiphyllums forest and caused it to become a sort of myth as years passed, the original name being lost to time and becoming known as “beast yeast” to anyone who heard of it

Epiphyllum was absolutely crushed, all of her work and care ripped from her, her forest was her pride and enjoy

- she loved all of the cookies that lived and visited it, and to see it all destroyed ruined her, she couldn’t bring herself to accept that the forest was no longer hers and spends all of her time desperately trying to fix it but to little success.

She feels bitter towards elder faerie and his kingdom, they stay behind kingdom walls almost constantly and fear her forest. She doesn’t blame them but it hurts to see how ruined her forest has become.

- she specifically dislikes elder faerie because she’s envious of him. After all the destruction from the beasts he still has a lively and glowing kingdom, every time she sees it her heart aches for what she once had.

Years pass and Epiphyllum still roams the forest with her butterfly lantern because she still cannot bare to part with it, clinging to the hope she can fix it. She’s tried to get help from both her parents, and while it works temporarily it never stays. They cannot devote all of their time to a lost cause. But Epiphyllum still holds out hope that she can fix it and all of her cookies will return to her and life will go back to what it once was.

After years of loneliness something happens, White Lily finds beast yeast, and she is excited to be there. Happy to see all of the life in the forest. Epiphyllum is enthralled to see someone find the beauty in her forest once more, even with how much it’s fallen. She quickly befriends white lily, guiding her safely through the forest and chatting with her about everything she’s made. White lily is genuinely interested and happy to speak to her, Epiphyllum is over joyed.

- She has spent that past years alone and working and to finally have someone who notices fills her heart. She’s happy. She takes white lily everywhere she can think of, her old villages, springs, flower fields, all of it. Maybe it was her intense loneliness but she falls quick for white lily, she loves how curious she is and how they talk for hours.

eventually white lily finds silver bell and goes the faerie kingdom, epiphyllum stays behind, still holding a grudge.

-Epiphyllum is sad to see white lily take more interest in the faerie kingdom but doesn’t say anything, she’s happy as long as white lily is. She occasionally enters the kingdom to check in on lily and talk to her and hang out but always returns to her forest, refusing to stay as the faeries are also quite awkward around her as in the past she lurked around their walls and would very rarely speak to elder faerie if he approached her first.

- When visiting white lily she noticed her bond with elder faerie had grown quite a lot, this only deepened her disdain for him, but once again she allowed it to slip by because white lily was happy

One day Epiphyllum entered the kingdom to see white lily but was stopped by elder faerie, telling her white lily had left to go the gathering of witches.

- Epiphyllum quickly becomes enraged, yelling at elder faerie for letting her basically walk into her own death. She doesn’t care what defense he has and quickly storms out and desperately searching her forest in hopes to find her before it’s too late but instead she finds nothing. She now truly resents elder faerie and blames him completely for the loss of white lily.

- after dark enchantress is created and white lily is comatose in the faerie kingdom Epiphyllum can be frequently found at her casket. Elder faerie told her about the casket, as he felt it was wrong to not let her know since he knew she cared about her deeply. He’s tried talking to her since and offers to let her stay in the kingdom so she isn’t lonely. These only end in arguments as Epiphyllum cannot bring herself to forgive him and wants nothing to do with him or his ungrateful kingdom.

Then ofc white lily wakes up and the beast yeast story happens. Epiphyllum is ecstatic to see her back but hesitates as she watches her interact with pure vanilla and elder faerie, seeing how happy she is without her and the way she talks about pure vanilla hurts her. All she wants is white lily but she knows white lily needs more than her.

She sinks back into her forest and watches as it crumbles further from the magic of dark enchantresses creations and the beasts waking up and breaking free from their prisons

Doomed by the narrative I fear

[ask-theog8-ocs]

i heard the audio again and i thought it fit-

this is about the characters

(context: this is post-tommy’s revival. wilt is talking to c!dream if it isn’t already obvious)

wilt: What. B**ch a** country are y’all from-

*gestures to tommy with a white streak, looking utterly traumatized*

WHERE THEY GOT THIS BULLS**T AT?!

dream: Florida :)

wilt: I knew it-

[llyncooljones]

homesick for a broken home - elorcan.

ao3 || masterlist || elorcan masterlist

word count: 3264

trigger warnings: language, sexual innuendo/content, alcohol, child abuse, prisons, death, and post-break-up angst

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life  @rowaelinismyotp  @backtobl4ck @fireheartwhitethorn4ever  @elentiyawhitethorn  @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon  @leiawritesstories @letstakethedawn

a frat house, eleven o’clock.

Bass thumped loudly, hip-hopping through her body. Strobe lights flashed, scarring the backs of her eyes with bright fucking red. Booze was half of her body weight, pushing her around and pushing her down.

She weaved through people. Elide ignored the concern of her classmates and acquaintances, in favour of a shot. She loved the burn of whatever the fuck her best friend had gifted her as it slid down her throat.

She needed to get out. Out.

Out.

It didn’t matter whether that was on her own two feet, or on a stretcher, she needed to be out of the house. Gone from the music, the lights, the voices.

She needed to be able to hear whoever had called her. The call she had missed, as she danced with a boy in one of her classes. Elide needed to hear what they had to call her late at night to tell her.

Because it couldn’t be good news.

Aelin materialised before her, two drinks in her hands, and a massive, drunk smile across her lips. Winding his way through the hectic crowd, somewhere behind her, was Aelin’s boyfriend and worshipper, Rowan Whitethorn. Elide could see his silver hair, and with the knowledge that Aelin had her boyfriend nearby, Elide kept on.

Elide loved to see her best friend in love but hated to see it when she herself was not.

It wasn’t that Aelin was selfish, it was simply that Elide was.

She tried not to focus on how she no longer had a boyfriend to keep an eye on her. Nor to keep her safe; and keep her awake at night with radioactive farts and conversations about fuck all. She had lost that person, she'd pushed him away. Watched from her dorm room window as his hunched shoulders shook in the driver’s seat of his big, black truck. Watched as he hit his fist on the steering wheel, before hunching over it—shoulders shaking.

She had watched him through the window: forehead pressed to it, tears rolling down her cheeks. Hoping to the gods that no one could see her from the street.

Whilst Elide was saying goodbye to the best thing that had ever happened to her, Aelin and Rowan were in the next room, in love. Together. Happy.

It was suffocating; if you were in the same room as them. Yet they were (still) the couple you couldn’t even hate for PDA’ing everywhere.

Yet, Elide absolutely could—did—hate them. Because she hated everyone. She hated the whole entire world, and she loved the feeling of the fire as it consumed her, thoroughly.

She saw the appeal now, of being that brooding, fighting, dickhead. Of being that person who didn’t smile. Elide would give anything for the cutting of the tendons in her cheeks. So she wasn’t hurting herself: smiling so fake, laughing so flatly.

The cool air outside snapped her back to the present, and disregarded thoughts of her ex, of him crying. Elide pulled her phone from her bra, and squinted to turn up the brightness. now shrouded in the glow of streetlights, the low setting was hardly legible.

She could thank her admittedly terrible eyesight. As well as the neglect of her health and well-being she had suffered, which lead to even worse eyesight.

Unlocking the device, she hurried to click the most recent missed call. She held the phone to her ear with the kind of apprehension not everyone could understand. The dial tone killed her, every ring that wasn’t responded to, had her hopping from foot to foot, just to keep busy. Just so she wouldn’t chuck the phone clear across the garden, and the road.

She sunk down into a chair on the porch, slouching as though someone was pushing down on her shoulders. With the weight of an elephant, given the way she wilted under it. She truly felt as though something was. Something invisible making her fall deeper and deeper into the dark.

The weight she carried had become heavy in recent months. But even that weight had increased tenfold in the time it took her to get out of the house.

Elide had a feeling, an inkling, that she knew why it had become so. In fact, it went beyond that. She knew it down to the very second, the reason why the weight on her shoulders had grown to be Too Much. She even knew it to be her fault, that the blame rested at her feet, jumping up at her every time she closed her eyes.

But anytime she tried to blame herself (rightly so, she would argue), she heard that low grumble of his. Felt the vibrations of his voice against her as he told her ‘it takes two people to fuck; takes to people to fuck it up’. And to make matters worse, even beyond hearing his voice, she pictured him. The face he would make when she tried to put it on all her own shoulders.

(so much narrower than his, so much softer than his, so much more easily exhausted than his)

The furrow in those dark eyebrows. The concern and subdued anger in his clenched jaw. The downturn to his lips. And the sudden softening of his shoulders. The gentle quality which overtook his eyes, as they bore into her own.

She pictured it every time, and it broke her heart a little more each time. She closed her eyes, so hard it hurt, so tight she felt the stretch in her cheek muscles. So that she would stop imagining him, so he would be gone from her mind. No longer plaguing her with everything about him she loved—loves.

She opened them, and he was gone. And yet, how she still wished there was a tall, muscular man sat next to her, with the initials LS. Her hand in his large one. Her shoulder butting into the thickness of his bicep. His arm curled around her, his furnace-like body keeping hers warm as the night drew darker.

Even when she tried her hardest, her damnedest to get rid of him, Elide found that nothing could get rid of him.

Instead, next to her was the cooler, the ice melted but the beers were still cold. She grabbed one out, breaking the seal on the can before tipping it up and letting the liquid slip down her throat. She couldn’t even taste the alcohol, couldn’t really sense anything other than the dull ringing of her phone.

The beer stayed tipped up against her lip, never wavering or wobbling as it drained down Elide’s throat. Finally, the phone on the other end picked up, and a soft voice spoke, “Perranth Penitentiary, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I just had a call from Perranth Penitentiary. I’m wondering if you can tell me what this is all about?” She didn’t need to ask. Not really. She knew perfectly, exactly, what would happen the second the woman opened her mouth to respond.

She knew.

How she wished she didn’t.

She was only twenty-two. Why on earth was she breaking down whilst calling back to a prison? She was too young for this.

It was a bullshit excuse, her youth, because when it had all begun, she even was younger. She was even more naïve, and she was even more hurt.

And she was younger than she was now when it had finished—in theory. What she had gone through didn't really 'finish'. What it was, was the kind of thing that kept you up at night with nightmares and cold sweats and paranoia.

But she was also more supported. There was an indescribably tall man behind her, protecting her on all fronts. Especially when it came to the backlash of his actions. The backlash was both her trauma and the popular opinion of the media and society. She had had his long black hair—that held a slight curl if he took care of it—to card her fingers through. When she needed to do something, anything. Just not nothing.

She had had so much more than sad, empty, and useless beer cans, and flimsy beer-soaked wood beneath her ass. She had a support system made up of one man that carried everything for her when she needed him to. And of course, in return, when he needed a one-woman support team, she was there. With the shoulders and weight-bearing thighs, she’d been training in the gym. So she could help him out: carry some of his weight. She’s since stopped going to the gym: she has no reason to work out. If not for him, then for who?

 No matter which angle you looked at it from, she was still far too young. She should never have been forced to become like this: crushing cans and slamming back drinks. Just so she didn’t black out during the upcoming call. Just so she didn’t slip into a panic attack when she found out.

The worst part was that she was never meant to find out alone. Elide was always meant to have someone else there. To answer the phone when the inevitable news that one of his many, many appeals for parole had passed, and that his release was to occur soon.

Never, ever, ever, under absolutely no circumstances was she supposed to have to brave this news on her own. Cold and alone, and sat on the porch of a random fucking frat house.

And yet here she was, biting her tongue, and holding back fierce tears.

inside the house, a minute earlier.

Aelin had seen the expression on her very, very, very best friend’s face as she had rushed out.

Aelin might have been drunk. But she was a senior in college, who was drunk every weekend and was more party animal than human. She'd had enough practice with beer goggles to understand the look on Elide's face as she walked by. Sadness, desperation, and the blatant need for—ugh, she couldn’t believe she had to think it—Lorcan Salvaterre.

With panic shifting through her body, she turned to find Rowan behind her. A look of concern and apprehension showed on his gorgeous, gorgeous, so-easily-sat-on face. Rowan raised a finger and reached with the other hand for one of the sloshing drinks. Once he had one in his grasp, he opened his mouth. “Am I wrong in thinking that, well that, was about, y’know, her uncle?” He finished his sentence whispering, as though he'd sworn in church, but otherwise seemed unchanged.

“No. I don’ink’so an’way. Cou’da been.” Even as she slurred her words, she was debating just how necessary a call to that dickhead of a tall person was. She knew the back and forth in her own mind was useless. Because if Aelin did in fact know something: she knew that Elide needed one thing, and one thing only when it came to dealing with anything related to him.

Bloody fucking Lorcan Salvaterre. The bastard.

“Right, I’ll call Lorcan, you just keep anyone away from the porch. Or try to. Tell ‘em Lys and Aedion are fucking on the Adirondacks, that’ll keep everyone away.” The soft, slow voice of her boyfriend did things to her. And after their five years of dating, Rowan had finally got over his hang-ups about fucking a drunk woman.

He had had those hang-ups for five fucking years. Held on to them, even when the woman was his hot as girlfriend of five years who had repeatedly told him he could. That she would love it if he did.

Which meant, if Lorcan—horrible name, truly hideous—took care of Elide, she was so getting some. And from that big dick her boyfriend swung between his legs, as well.

Fuck! Yeah!

Before she could celebrate, she had to keep her friend safe. She had to make sure that Elide was alone on that porch. That Lorcan was going to be there soon, to swoop her up, and put her in the passenger seat only Elide rode in. And that he take her home. To the only home, Elide would ever really know: his arms, in his (or their) bed, safe and sound, and snug as a bug.

the porch, nearly midnight.

Elide had been on hold for far too long. She knew what the normal hold length for Perranth Penitentiary was. Because she called them every last Sunday of the month, to ensure he was still suffering. At the hands of the worst motherfuckers in that prison.

She knew, and this was not it. This was far, far, far too long. She was becoming irritable; she felt as if spiders were crawling up her spine, making homes, stringing webs between her vertebrae.

If she needed anything beyond the prison calling her to clarify it was bad news, it was the nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds of hold. Accompanied by bad hold music. That she had listened to, had tortured herself with.

“Miss Lochan, I’d like to inform you that today, at five o'clock in the afternoon, Vernon Lochan died. He passed in the medical suite of the prison due to a stab wound to the jugular. We are sorry for your lo—"

“—don’t you dare fucking say that you’re ‘sorry for my loss’. No, you aren’t. Don’t you fucking dare! that man dragged me through fucking hell. He put a fucking shackle 'round my ankle for two months, kept me locked in the fucking basement of his house. You’ve got the list of his fucking charges in front of you, on a computer screen. You know he was a child abuser; you know full well what he’s done. So, don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” She hung up with a harsh punch of a button.

Something vicious, and not entirely human overtook Elide, as she berated the woman so severely her own vocal cords began to sting. But as harsh as she was, she was unable to bring herself to care. Why should she?

She found that her blood was boiling beneath the surface of her skin, that her cheeks had turned red in her fury, and that she couldn’t, nor did she want to, stop it. She loved the anger, the hate she felt towards the receptionist. It tripled when Elide thought of other victims she had hurt. After delivering the joyous news that their abuser was dead, no less.

Elide felt baffled, truly shocked by it. That the woman had the fucking nerve to bring victims down. Especially when such a weight had only just disappeared off their shoulders. The information that they would no longer live in fear of their abusers turning up at their homes. Even if those victims couldn’t stop the nightmares from shaking them awake in the middle of the night, they didn't have to fear it in life, too.

The anger coursing through her, even in its ferocity, wasn’t enough to unlock her limbs. Nor shake the fog from her mind. Even as she tried to rejoice, she found herself stuck to the wooden deck: unable to even shuffle out a dance of celebration.

So much so, that when the truck she knew so intimately pulled up, Elide couldn’t run inside and curse her friend. For calling Lorcan. Elide couldn’t slap Aelin like she wanted to. Though inside she knew her friend was only taking care of her, doing the one thing she could.

Even if Elide didn’t want to face it all, somewhere inside she knew that she needed Lorcan. Like she knew she needed air in her lungs.

He took good care of his truck, so it stopped gently, without a squeak from his brakes. The suspension bounced as he jumped from the driver’s side and headed straight up the front path. His strides were long, and with his hair chucked in a knot at the top of his head, Elide couldn’t even admire the way is swished in the wind. She couldn’t even distract herself from the panic she felt, by watching he ex-boyfriend’s hair in the wind.

She never quite believed she would find herself in such a situation.

Distracting herself from Lorcan, by distracting herself with Lorcan. What a funny place to be. “Elide. What’s happened?” he spoke, quietly. He stood at the bottom of the paltry staircase to the porch, his eyes focused down so that he could see her clearly in the dark.

“Well, Aelin is no longer my best friend. Because she called you.” Her tone was sullen, and dark, and she spoke down to her chest. Unable to meet the dark chocolate of his irises and the piercing nature of his gaze upon her.

“Hate to break it to you, but Aelin told the partygoers that Aedion and Lysandra were fucking on the porch to keep people away from you, whilst Rowan called me. I don’t know if that still classifies Aelin for ‘no longer my best friend’ status or not so, I’ll leave it with you, El.” His voice felt like a luxury as it washed over her, she hadn’t heard it for so long (read: three months, two weeks, five days, and a collection of hours, minutes, and seconds).

“Maybe. I’ll evaluate at a later date.” Was she being stunted; in the way she spoke to him? She wasn’t entirely sure, because how was she supposed to speak to her ex-boyfriend, when she’d quite possibly received the best news of her life, but still couldn’t forget all she’d done to ruin their relationship.

“You gonna tell me, or do I need to pull it out of you? Because I will. Don’t think that just because I haven’t seen you in any kind of meaningful way for three and half months, I’ve forgotten your weak spots and pressure points.” His tone became quiet, drifting off at the end as he no doubt, reflected on their relationship. “I couldn’t forget anything about you.” Fell from his lips later, and if the music had been any louder, and Elide had known Lorcan for a fraction of those years, she would have never heard.

But she had known those years, and the music was quiet enough, so she did. And she confessed all her secrets. Or one, for now. She knew the rest would follow as he hooked an arm under her knees, and another around her back, picking her up like she weighed nothing.

“Vernon’s dead. Finally.” His name tasted sour on her tongue, but the ‘dead’ felt sugary sweet as she let it drip off. She wondered how many other people had felt this bittersweet concoction in their mouth, and how many other people wished they could bottle it to remember the feeling. Of victory.

“I know. The prison called me after they couldn’t reach you the first time. I was already on my way when Rowan called. Feels good, doesn’t it? So, fucking good.” Lorcan climbed the steps, and just as Elide had imagined, and just as she had predicted: an arm under her knees, an arm around her back. But the bonus was the soft brush of his lips to the crown of her head, which she most certainly wasn’t supposed to feel.

She also wasn’t supposed to feel so whole, so home, so bright in the arms of the ex-boyfriend she had broken up with, but she had resigned herself—a long time ago, actually—to the fate that she would be Lorcan’s.

She had worked it out, somewhere in the past three and a bit months, that they were inevitable. She was so glad they were.

[sunlitmcgee]

Just all of you think. About what c!Ranboo’s gonna do once he comes back from the dead. Do you wonder how cold Limbo's been? Do you think about how hungry he is from not having to eat but still feeling hunger gnaw away as he sat on that puny grass block? Imagine, just how warm the sun feels. How sweet the wind tastes. How beautiful he finds clingy's laughs even when they're rather loud and sting his sensitive, wilted ears.

He lays in bed, and gods, it's soft. He reaches for c!Tubbo, and wow, was he always so warm? He hugs Tommy and feels like he should be thrown back into that horrible place for whatever happened with the prison. But no. Tommy says that's crazy talk and gives him light flick against the cheek for saying something so gods damned ridiculous.

Michael jumps up to snuggle when it's time to go to sleep. He's small. So tiny. He hasn't grown more than around an inch since Ranboo...went away, for a little while.

That's how they explained it to Michael.

Dada went away, but now he's back home and is NEVER leaving again. 

It's better he never knows the truth. He's just so small. Ranboo cries each time he realizes he missed his baby's birthday.

Michael’s face fits between his claws like it always has. The little piglin snuffles and makes a comment about Ranboo’s scales no longer being as shiny as they once were.

Ranboo smiles.

He smiles and gives the boy a kiss on the head and just hopes that he'll ignore it.

He just says that Dada feels tired and wants to go to bed. And Michael agrees, because he's also very tired and wants to go to bed now so it'll be morning soon and they can go on that picnic they'd planned around breakfast.

And he lays there, on a bed softer than anything he's felt in, what, how many endless, agonizing years. And it's so warm. And his family is finally safe. And his baby is in his arms and his beloveds are to his sides, and he's happy, he realizes. He realizes that he's happy and safe and free. That he doesn't have to be scared and doesn't have to be afraid of being dragged back there ever again. There's no more wars, no more politics, no more murderous terrorists to appease or slimy spiders inside his head. He's free! He's actually okay!

And he cries! Because he's actually alive!

He's alive!

And he's happy...and it's all going to finally be okay.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 17

Series Masterlist

So, the aftermath’s here! This took significantly longer than I thought it would, but oh well. Enjoy everyone!

So, to recap where everyone’s favourite dysfunctional demon family are at right now: Belphie’s still guilt spiralling but he wants to make amends, MC is having a self worth crisis because of what happened, Lucifer was homicidal less than a day ago, and the rest of the brothers are very mad at Belphie.

So, a good little while passes, MC moves back into their room and doesn’t really come out or try to talk to anyone, Lucifer practically lives in his study, and Belphie holes himself up in whichever room that no one else is in.

Keep in mind, no one knows the truth about Lilith’s death yet because it never came up because MC isn’t a descendent of the human version of Lilith.

The brothers (sans Belphie) went and visited MC, who was very happy to see all of them, but everything felt kind of off, everyone was slightly on edge. But nobody brought it up because no one wanted to be the catalyst for the next big family fight, especially so soon after MC got hurt.

It had been almost a week and MC could barely cobble together the desire to leave their room. They had made themselves a prisoner in their own house right after freeing Belphie from his house arrest, how ironic is that?

Stupid…

How naive could they get? To think that just because they were family that everyone would welcome them with open arms? And how stupid would they have to be to believe that they were a proper demon like the rest of them? Demons were manipulative tricksters at their nicest, if MC didn’t understand that than they were a shit excuse for a demon.

Spending time lying in bed staring up at the ceiling wasn’t the best way to pass the time, but MC had grown tired of flicking through the same five apps on their DDD and had contemplated chucking it at the wall. With nothing to distract them, MC was alone with their thoughts.

Of course they couldn’t fend off Belphegor, of course they lost… they barely had any better a hold on their magic than they did when the year started. They weren’t a full demon, but they weren’t some weak little human either, but maybe things would have been better if they were human. If they were human, they wouldn’t have had magic, they wouldn’t have had a fighting chance at all. There would have been no shame in losing. But MC wasn’t a full human, they had their fighting chance and lost anyway.

“MC?”

Their head snapped towards the source of the voice. Through a bright gold glow, they saw an unfamiliar woman, her eyebrows were knit with concern. Not being able to muster up the energy to really be openly panicked, MC sat up and rested their head on their chin, then raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Oh! Um…” the ghostly woman puffed out her cheek and twiddled her fingers as her eyes darted around the room. “I didn’t exactly think this introduction through, my bad…”

It was MC’s turn to be confused, standing in front of her was a woman who didn’t look like an angel or a demon, yet somehow was able to cobble together the magical strength necessary to actually make herself visible to MC. And now, she was stressing about an awkward introduction.

“I’m Lilith!” The woman finally blurted out, she clamped her eyes shut and quickly stuck her hand out.

MC blinked at the outstretched hand like it was a completely foreign gesture. “…what?”

“Yeah! Um… I uh…” Lilith withdrew her hand and facepalmed. “I’m really sorry…”

“I-uh… Lilith? Like… Lilith, my father’s sister Lilith?”

“…yes?”

“…please explain.”

And Lilith did explain, she explained the ghost bit, how she can’t technically go up to the Celestial Realm nor does she want to, and how she’s kind of been playing guardian Fallen Angel to the entire family.

MC finally got to learn the reason the Grimoire was in the tomb, and why their father was so damn loyal to Diavolo.

Lilith also explains that she’s kind of the reason MC is down in the Devildom in the first place. Lucifer picked an entirely different totally normal human, but Lilith switched the files and MC was brought down instead.

MC still obviously had questions.

“So…” MC mumbled. “That’s why he tried to kill me.”

Lilith pursed her lips and looked away. “Yeah…”

MC let out an explosive sigh as their hand unconsciously creeped to their neck. MC’s fingers brushed over raised skin from barely healed over scratches.

“He wants to apologize.”

“What?”

“Belphie, he wants to apologize to you.”

MC snorted and rolled their eyes, they shifted over so Lilith couldn’t see their face. “Hmph… maybe if he grovels enough I won’t sic Cerberus on him…”

“You’re under no obligation to forgive him-”

“I know!” MC snapped, grinding the base of their palm against their eye to stop the tears that threatened to burst. “And I won’t!”

The problem was, Lilith’s story actually ended up making MC feel bad for him, which made them feel angry at themselves, which made them feel more upset than before.

On one hand, Belphie was motivated by the loss of someone incredibly close to him and never received closure because Lucifer kept Lilith’s “survival” a secret.

On the other hand, Belphie tricked, manipulated, and then tried to kill MC. That couldn’t just be waved off with an “oh he was just grieving”

After some deliberation, MC decided they were going to do one more thing to help Belphie.

“Father.” MC hit their knuckles against the door to their father’s room. The door opened almost immediately and Lucifer stood in the doorway.

“Yes MC? Do you need anything, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to talk to you.”

“Come in then,” Lucifer stepped aside and MC walked into the room, he closed the door behind them. “What is it?”

“I know about what happened with Lilith.”

Lucifer froze, MC did their best to hold his gaze and not waver.

“You need to tell everyone.”

“…how did you find out?”

“She um… told me. Lilith, I mean… she’s still around.” MC awkwardly twirled their finger in the air as they explained. “You’ve kept this hidden for too long, the secret has to be told so this can end.”

Lucifer wasn’t on board immediately, but eventually, he was convinced.

Everyone was gathered, including Belphie, and Lucifer explained what had really happened the day Lilith had died.

Of course there were shouts of shock and outrage that slowly melted into a melancholy silence. Lilith was still around, but her presence was so limited, but she was still there with them! Their sister was still there!

When everyone dispersed to go process the news, Belphie approached MC.

“H-hey.”

MC almost outwardly shuddered at the sound of the Avatar of Sloth’s voice, but they held firm and turned to face him.

Anything they wanted to say died in their throat as MC got a good look at Belphie for the first time in over a week. He looked like complete and utter garbage. His hair was a mess, bags lined the underside of his eyes, and his entire posture seemed to just droop like a wilting flower. Though, it wasn’t like MC had much of a platform to stand on when it came to critiquing appearance at that point in time, they looked just as awful.

“What do you want?” MC asked quietly, they had meant to put more force behind their words, but most if not all of their focus had gone towards not allowing their voice to break or waver.

“To apologize.”

So, Lilith was right, he was sorry. Rage bubbled in MC’s gut as they clenched their fist. How dare he think he could just, apologize and think everything could turn out okay?! MC opened their mouth to scream, cry, hurl every insult they had spent the previous week thinking about, but nothing came out. The anger subsided and MC deflated, they crossed their arms and gestured for Belphie to go ahead.

“Go on.” They mumbled.

Belphie’s gaze drifted to the wall, he clenched his pillow tighter to his chest, then looked back to MC. At least he had the decency to look them in the eye.

“I’m sorry for what I did, MC. I messed up and I hurt you. I blamed you for something you had nothing to do with, even though you were nothing but nice to me. No excuse would make what I did any better, so I’m… I’m sorry…”

MC gnawed on their lower lip and knitted their eyebrows. He sounded sincere enough, but MC wasn’t just going to roll over and forgive him just like that. They were still so angry and betrayed, but they didn’t want to be. Stupid feelings…

They took a deep breath and squared their shoulders, looking Belphie directly in the eyes.

“Okay.”

“…okay?”

“Okay.” MC repeated. “I’m not going to forgive you just to absolve your guilt, but I’m done with this. It’s over and I’m moving on. If you’re really sorry, don’t ever do something like that again.”

The tiniest glimmer of hope sparkled in Belphie’s eyes as he nodded. “I swear on my life I’ll never do anything like that again.”

MC stiffly nodded. “Good. Now, I’m going to my room. I have school tomorrow.”

When Belphie turned to go back to his room, Lucifer melted out of the shadows and stood next to MC.

“That was very big of you.”

“Thanks father.” MC mumbled.

“Are you sure you want to go to school tomorrow? I can ask Lord Diavolo to extend your time off.”

“No,” MC shook their head. “I’m ready. Besides,” They stifled a giggle. “I don’t want to miss everyone’s reactions to Human History.”

Wanting to watch demons freak out about weird parts of human history is a very valid reason to want to go to school.

Anyway, all eight residents of the HOL goes back to school, and MC’s cover story was that they had gotten the flu and was too sick to go to school, and Belphie had been brought back from the human world early. No one had the balls to question the seven rulers of hell, so no one asked any questions.

Luke was very excited to see his friend again, so excited that he got in trouble for talking in class. No big deal, lunchtime was still free for them to talk!

The day was perfectly normal, which was a blessing for everyone.

Diavolo officially deemed that Belphie was no longer a threat to the exchange program, so Belphie was allowed to return to his student council duties without issue.

Things between Diavolo and Barbatos and MC were quite… confusing.

For one thing, Diavolo was the crown prince and MC had really liked him before the stuff in the previous timeline and learning about exactly how he had secured their father’s loyalty.

And for Barbatos… he was just fucking terrifying.

“MC!”

The sound of Diavolo jovially calling their name jolted MC out of their thoughts. Thinking about the upcoming Demonology midterm would have to wait.

“Hello, Lord Diavolo.” MC knew better than to be openly pissed at the soon to be monarch, especially after everything that had transpired.

“Are you doing alright, MC? How has school been treating you?” Diavolo continued to pepper MC with questions with barely any gaps for MC to actually reply. Barbatos stood on the sidelines with a soft neutral smile on his face, which only served to unnerve MC more.

“I’m doing fine, Lord Diavolo. There’s no need for concern.”

Diavolo’s rampant questioning came to a stop, and MC swore they could see his expression fall ever so slightly.

“I’m glad to hear that, MC. If you need anything, just ask!”

He ended the interaction with a hesitant pat on MC’s head before walking off to his next class. Though, the presence of the butler still loomed behind MC.

“While I’m very glad you’re well, MC,” Barbatos said icily calm. “I must ask that you refrain from going into my room again.”

“Y-yes sir.” MC mumbled.

“Have a lovely day.”

Reason why everyone should be at least a little afraid of Barbatos #473

The relationship between MC and the Royals does end up getting repaired eventually, it’s just… really awkward for the time being.

Home was still awkward as all hell, the murder attempt definitely weakened the brotherly bonds MC had spent months repairing, and the hostility wasn’t doing MC’s emotional recovery much good.

“This is ridiculous.” Lilith’s voice popped into MC’s head while they sat at the dining table finishing up their homework. MC jumped slightly in their seat and frantically looked around for their aunt’s apparition.

“What’s got you spooked?” Satan asked from his place across the table.

“N-nothing. Just a chill.” MC quickly replied, trying to go back to their work.

“Nice recovery, MC. Very smooth.”

“Shut up!” MC thought. “What are you doing in my head?”

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” Lilith’s nasally childlike huff nearly caused MC to openly roll their eyes.

“No, what is it? What do you need?”

“I don’t really need anything, but look at this fractured house!” Lilith cried. “This is worse than the time Mammon stole everyone’s pocket watches!”

“Pocket…watches?”

“It was 1803, get with the program, MC.”

“Lilith, what are we talking about here?”

“Oh! Right! Well, this house is insanely divided and sucky right now, it’s terrible!” Lilith whined, as much as MC hated to submit to their ghostly aunt’s whining, she did have a point.

Just that morning Asmo just happened to neglect to paint Belphie’s nails when he went out of his way just minutes earlier to track down Lucifer to make sure his nails were painted. Later when Belphie walked into the library with Beel, Satan ended up picking up the cat and walking straight out. Satan walking out of a library was like a fish walking out of water.

That wasn’t the only thing either, Mammon had taken it upon himself to be a human (or demon to be more precise) barrier between Belphie and MC at almost all times. The only times when Mammon couldn’t do that was when the witches decided to summon him.

Levi continued to be a recluse, but on the rare occasion he did come out, there was no friendly hellos between him and Belphie.

Lucifer… well, he did a good job hiding his contempt. He had respected MC’s decision to let Belphie try and fix things and he himself seemed eager for everything to be fixed, but he wasn’t exactly aiding in the repairs. Every time he had to look at Belphie it was so expressionless that MC swore that Mammon could swipe someone’s wallet right in front of him and Lucifer wouldn’t even frown.

Even Beel, he bounced back the quickest in terms of being ready to be around Belphie again, but the even psychically linked twins couldn’t fully shake the feeling of distance between the two.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Last time I tried to fix this family’s problems I almost died.”

“H-hey, I don’t think you should joke about that just yet…”

“Bite me. I wasn’t joking.”

“Well… okay. But I can’t really manifest any power right now! Smacking some sense into Belphie really took a toll on my ability to do much.”

“Hmph…” MC thought long and hard, well, two minutes long. “We could hold a movie night.”

Lilith gasped and MC swore they could hear the sound of her clapping her hands together. “Yes! Everyone can hang out and eat popcorn! Oh it’ll be great! Build a Fort! Forts bring people closer together!”

The movie night was the first of many little get togethers that MC quietly orchestrated to get everyone back on speaking terms with each other. They weren’t a direct part of all of them, but they could see the good they were doing.

A small video game tournament, going out to eat together, just relaxing in the same room, all of it added up, and sooner rather than later everyone was back to… not hating each other.

The brothers are still brothers after all, there’s always that tiny instinct that tells siblings to try and ruin the other’s day

As for Belphie and MC’s relationship…

Things slowly but surely moved back to the way they were before. MC came out of their room to sit with everyone and hang out, everyone progressively let Belphie back into their lives, and the nightmares gradually lessened.

For the first time in a little over a month and a half, MC felt truly safe again, which was odd considering they were in their planetarium with someone who they declared they’d never forgive. They still hadn’t, but things had gotten better.

Belphie was doing his damndest to show that he was truly sorry about everything. It started off with small things; helping MC clean the house, giving them pencils when they didn’t have any, covering for them when they had dinner duty,

The little victories may not have seemed very noteworthy, but to Belphie and MC, they were everything.

“That’s Orion, that’s Orion’s Belt,” Belphie pointed up at the shifting ceiling of the planetarium, tracing each and every constellation that he saw and pointing them out to MC and Beel. The latter had seen these stars and heard Belphie’s explanations a thousand times over, but never tired of them. MC was staring up at the gorgeous sight of the human world night sky they had left behind with a small smile on their face.

“That’s Ursa Major,” Beel pointed up as he offered MC the bag of chips he was eating.

“Mhm,” Belphie quietly chirped, he then pointed to a nearby constellation. “And that’s Ursa Minor.”

“Huh, if you connect these stars, it looks like a pair of pants.” MC piped up, tracing the set of stars.

Belphie snickered and nodded. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

“Look, that one’s a spatula!” Beel pointed at a constellation, Belphie snorted and facepalmed.

“Beel, Buddy, that’s the Little Dipper.”

After a little while longer Belphie let out an explosive yawn and stretched out like a cat. MC and Beel yawned in response.

“I’m goin’ to sleep.”

“Belphie wait,” MC giggled. “You can’t sleep here!”

“Watch me.”

“You’ll get a sore back, Belphie.” Beel picked up Belphie and slung him over his shoulder as the Avatar of sloth began to snore, he then turned and sat MC on his other shoulder. “Bedtime for everyone.”

MC let out another yawn and rubbed their eyes. Maybe Belphie had the right idea, it was late as hell…

——————

Author’s Note: You ever know how you want something to turn out in your head, but the moment you go to write it down you kind of want to yeet yourself into oblivion? Yeah that’s what happened here.

The game itself didn’t give me much to work with in terms of how everyone would react if MC didn’t shrug off their near death, so… 🤷‍♀️ oh well! What’s done is done!

[mara-xx217]

Hello ! Can I request sweet baby max courting reader ? Him being a cutie pie in monsters favorite was so adorable +_+

Yeah I loved making him so cute 🥰

Allergies

Part Two

So.. What Do They Like..? Part One

Max didn’t know what to do. He knew in a vague sense what he wanted, but he didn’t know how to go about it. He’s never had any outside contact with anyone other than his parents, before, and even then, it was more than horrific. People meant bad things would happen. That he would be hurt. That he would be scared. People were bad, but… But you weren’t. You were… different. You didn’t scream at him. You didn’t ridicule him for his outward appearance. You didn’t even try to get in his personal space. You were the one and only person that Max has ever met that has ever treated him like, well… a human being, with dignity and respect. He… he didn’t know how to process that. But, what he did know, what he wanted, was to show you… something.

Max was beyond frustrated. He didn’t know much: he didn’t know how to read or write, he was terrible at sewing, didn’t have a green thumb, and couldn’t cook to save his life. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do, but what he wanted was to do something for you, just what he didn’t know. What did girls like..? He’s hardly ever been around girls, mostly because, well… they run away screaming and crying from him, not that he exactly blames them, but still… The only female he’s ever known was his… his… … No, he doesn’t know any girls, or what they like or much of anything, really.

Hmm… well.. then again.. there were times that he heard something through the walls of his prison, when he was a young boy. He heard people talking. Different people, at different times, maybe..? Well, what’s important was that he heard someone talking about girls, about what they like, about the things they want, about making them happy. Something he’s heard a few times was something like “diamonds are a girl's best friend”, but Max didn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, unfortunately. He’s heard talk about flowers, which he’s actually done, and to decent effect, it would seem. Right? You smiled, so it had to be good, right?

Oh, what else..? Damnit..! He’s getting all nervous and flustered thinking about your smiling face. How pink your cheeks were, how bright your eyes were and how wide your grin was… And it was all because of him. Bouncing his leg wildly, Max anxiously scans the mold-infested cornfields that surrounds his childhood home. Yeah, no one ever comes here, but he can’t help but to always be on guard. But, what if she stops by..? He fiddles with his torn and frayed shirt, heart jumping up to his throat as his blood rushes to his ears. Yeah right… It was a one off. It was nice, though… Max sighs, beyond miserable. I guess I should-

“Ack! God damn-! Uhhh- Nnghh-..! M-Max..? H-He- Ehh… Shit!” Max nearly jumped out of his skin. Is-?! No! I must be dreaming! There’s no way that she-!?

“Uuughhhh… I-I brought y-your handkerchief back, but, uhhh… I might have to use it again… Heh heh…” Maybe he should run back inside. You haven’t seen him, yet, so he should have more than enou- Wait. You… You brought it back..? You… You’re-

Before he could make up his mind, you appeared through the mess of corn, teary eyed and flushed looking. Well, it’s too late now… Max both praised and cursed himself, he was definitely excited to see you again, but he was beyond terrified and already on the cusp of being overwhelmed. When you pause, looking him up and down with a concerned look on your face, Max realized that he was in a defensive stance, ready to either run away or hunker down and fight. He quickly stands up straight, nearly slipping and falling down the stairs of his porch.

Max wanted to die of embarrassment. That’s all he’s done around you, just embarrassed himself from the moment he’s met you all the way up to now. I’m such a damn fool… He wilts noticeably, and you shuffle to the foot of the stairs, making sure to give him enough space. I wouldn’t wanna be near me, neither…

“H-Hey, you okay, Max..? I didn’t scare you, did I?” You asked, sniffling as you hold back a sneeze. You? Scare him? Yeah right… I-I gotta say somethin, uhh… Uhhh…

“N-Nah… ‘m fine…” Max cringes at how much he was tripping on his own tongue, but you don’t bring any attention to it. Instead, you hold out the oil-stained handkerchief, offering it to him. Max’s heart skips a beat. You really did bring it back… He hesitates, and you lower your arm slightly, giving him an apologetic smile.

“S-Sorry… I know this was sudden, s-so I can just l-leave it on the steps and be on my way, if you’d like…” W-Wait! No-! Wait!

“I-Is alright! I- Uh, umm…” He began to sweat. Okay, he needs to do something, and fast! W-What do girls like..?! What do they like?! Flowers, whatever diamonds are supposed to be, soft things, probably… Um… S-Shit..!

He hesitates again, before taking a cautious step down towards you. You tilt your head to the side, still not moving, but also smiling warmly at him, patiently waiting. He takes another step, pausing to wonder if this was really a good idea. You still don’t move. Still don’t stop smiling. Another step. Nothing changes. One more, still the same. Final step, and he’s towering over you, drumming his twitchy fingers against his thighs.

You present the handkerchief once more, neatly folded and partially cleaned, as clean as something so used could be. Max stares at it, eyes flicking to your face before quickly darting away, sheepish at how kindly you were looking at him. Just do it and get it over with. Then you can go back to being miserable all by your lonesome… He begins to raise his hand, before lowering it, nervous of how you may react. Swallowing his fear, Max lifts his hand, much, much faster than he had intended, but you didn’t flinch away. Just… You just kept smiling sweetly… And it made his heart hurt.

Hesitating one last time, Max placed his hand on the handkerchief, before gently pushing it towards your chest, gently and awkwardly patting your closed fist. You quirked your brows, a little confused, but said nothing, fearing that you may scare him off. Max sucks in a deep breath, before nervously taking a step back.

“Erm… Y-Ya can keep i-it… Y-Ya prolly need it m-more than me, anyhow…” Your eyes soften before holding the old cloth tighter and closer to your heart. O-Oh… Max’s own heart began to ache. You ducked your head briefly, before shaking the hair from your eyes, smiling even wider than before.

“T-Thank you, Max… That’s really sweet of you…” His heart nearly stopped. You looked so pretty… Max mumbled under his breath, too shy to really look in your general direction at this point. He was about to run away, but then he remembered. I still don’t know what girls like…

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, debating on whether he wanted to embarrass himself further, he sneaked another look at you. Oh… Well… You still held that old rag close, with your brows furrowed at a confused, but genuine smile ghosting your lips. Cheeks flushed slightly, and yellow dress blowing in the gentle breeze… He looked away. … What’s the worst that could happen..? Already made a fool of myself so far. What’s a little more..?

“U-Um… Y-Y-Y/N..?”

“Hmm..?”

“W-What d-do g-g-girls like..?”

[mygalfriday]

pity the man that stands in my way (River/11)

Prompt #2: You. Me. Handcuffs. 

The old earth saying about doctors making the worst patients must have originated with her husband. River can cope with his stubborn refusal to take any medication that isn’t grape-flavored or eat anything that isn’t covered in custard. Even the constant whinging is bearable. If those were her only problems, she’d consider herself fortunate. But the Doctor can’t even admit to being sick at all. No matter how many times River orders him to bed – unfortunately not in the fun way – he always ends up sneaking off to the control room the minute she isn’t looking to try convincing the TARDIS to take him somewhere. He can barely stand up but is absolutely confident in his ability to calm a rebellion on Drahva. 

In the middle of making him a cup of chamomile tea that she secretly hopes might make him drowsy enough to get some rest – if nothing else, the sedative she plans to mix in should do the trick – River glances up when the TARDIS lights flicker. The Old Girl always finds a way to let her know when the Doctor has escaped again. She sighs, mutters a thank you to the ship, and abandons the kettle on the hob. Marching out of the kitchen, she doesn’t bother checking their bedroom first. She heads right for the control room and sure enough, the Doctor stands at the console, clinging to it for balance as he plots new coordinates. 

“Going somewhere?”

He jumps guiltily at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her and pasting on a wide grin. “Ah, there you are. I was just looking for you.” At her baleful stare, he wilts. “Alright, so I was very much not looking for you. I was actively avoiding you, as it happens. Come on, dear. Aren’t you bored?”

“No, my love. I’m not bored.” River crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “As a matter of fact, just this once, I would love to be bored. I would quite literally kill for it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two days chasing my husband around with a syringe.”

His brows lift and he mutters to himself, “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream.” He frowns, attention returning to her. “I’ve got to say, not one of our better honeymoons.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Doctor,” she sighs, dropping her arms and crossing to his side. “You’re ill.”

He scowls, lips parting and brow furrowing in offense. “I am not! I’m perfectly fine.” Eyes fever-bright and cheeks worryingly flush, he insists, “I’ve never been better.”

River presses the back of her hand to his forehead, ignoring him when he tries to swat her weakly away. “Just as I thought.” She strokes her fingers along his cheekbone, gratified when he sighs and leans briefly into her touch. “You’re burning up. Get back into bed.”

“You always say that,” he mutters, petulant. 

She smirks, patting his cheek. “Well, it is my favorite place to see you.”

He sighs. “River, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to see and do and-”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” She raises a brow meaningfully, watching understanding dawn in his clouded eyes. 

He brightens, that adorably nervous smile curving his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She sways into him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as she meets his gaze. “You said you feel fine. Care to prove it, Time Lord?”

The Doctor lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, tugging at his bowtie. He looks down at her and despite her certainty that he must feel terrible, the desire in his expression is almost enough to make her forget herself. “Prepare to be impressed, Dr. Song.”

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him out of the control room, risking another remark about her fussing over him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Troublingly, he doesn’t say a word. He leans his weight into her as though she might not notice and even with her guiding him, he stumbles more than once. She wonders briefly how he’d made it from their bedroom to the control room in the first place. What had he done – crawled there? Even his breathing is a bit off, a slight rasp after every inhale that worries her. She doesn’t dare let on. 

The moment they cross the threshold into their bedroom, River turns and takes his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. The Doctor makes a soft, startled noise against her lips before his mouth opens and his tongue brushes hers. His hands grip her hips as they stumble toward the bed and he feels hot against her, his body temperature higher than usual. His touch is almost searing even over her clothes. 

Divesting him quickly of his tweed and bowtie, River nips sharply at his bottom lip before nudging him onto the bed. She watches him fall back onto the pillows, looking weak and tired. His mouth is red and swollen from her kisses and his hair is rumpled from her fingers. For a moment, she considers climbing on top of him and giving him exactly what he wants – he’d still be resting if she’s on top, wouldn’t he? 

But no. No matter how tempting he looks right now, he’s very ill. He needs to sit still and drink his tea and take his medicine and bloody well sleep. There will be plenty of time to ravish him when he’s feeling better. River likes him best when he’s a full participant anyway. 

His eyes are dark and interested as he watches her strip out of her clothes; he licks his lips at every piece of clothing that drops to the floor. When she has nothing but her knickers left to remove, River joins him on the bed. She crawls up the length of his body and straddles his narrow waist, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss. The Doctor melts under her, his limbs going loose and deliciously pliable. It takes no effort at all to pin his arms above his head and secure them to the bedpost.

The Doctor goes still at the sound of the lock clicking into place, his mouth slipping from hers as he mutters, “Why do you always have handcuffs?”

River smirks, dropping the seduction act as she sits up and slides out of bed. Reaching for her clothes piled neatly on the floor, she tugs on her shirt and says, “Maybe now you’ll actually get some rest.”

He growls under his breath, watching her slip back into her trousers. “River, uncuff me right now.”

“Sorry, my love,” she says, shrugging unapologetically. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll release you when you can be trusted to stay put.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she admits, “Well, I suppose I should say when you’re well enough that I won’t care you can’t be trusted.”

“Oi!” He pouts, tugging at the cuffs. “I’m very trustworthy. Ish. I know loads of secrets I’ve never told you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, sweetie.” She pats his knee. “I’m going to fetch your tea. Would you like something to read while you wait?”

The Doctor twitches irritably. “How would I turn the pages?”

“Good point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, listening to the sound of the cuffs clanking against the bedpost as he tries unsuccessfully to free himself. “Then might I suggest you lie there and think about how lucky you are to have me?”

He stops struggling long enough to offer her a doe-eyed glance. “But I do that all the time.”

“Nice try.” River pinches his thigh, smirking when he yelps. “I’m still not letting you out.”

He huffs. “River-”

She levels him with her sternest look – the one that wins wars and terrifies her prison guards; the one that says I’ve killed a man before and I’m happy to do it again. “The more you complain, the longer I’ll leave you here.”

Properly cowed, the Doctor snaps his mouth shut and settles for a silent glare. 

“Good boy.” River leans in and presses a kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Back soon, sweetie. What is it you always say to your companions?” She tips her head to the side, grinning down at him in victory. “Oh yes. Don’t wander off.”