#yandere eleven x reader imagine

[billyhargrovesslut]

Stick Together

Imagine: henry and eleven being yandere for you a nurse who worked with them and trying to run from them but they always find you.

[morose-melodies]

call it a coincidence | yandere! captain x reader

summary: what a shame you, a wealthy visitor to snezhnaya, were caught in that horrible carriage crash but how convenient that the captain was there to save you. it would be heroic, maybe, if he hadn't been the cause of the crash. maybe if he wasn't trying to kill everyone in the crash except for you.

content warning: mentions of blood and dead animals.

snezhnaya was cold, very different from your home in liyue, but it was very beautiful, the snow fell peacefully, and the flowers here were gorgeous.

you had initially grieved coming to snezhnaya, afraid that you'd be unlucky enough to come face to face with one of the eleven harbingers, but, your assistant, albert, assured you nothing of the sort would happen.

they would have no reason to cause you any trouble he assured you, giving your gloved hand a gentle squeeze.

he was always very reasonable, so, you believed him. it was true, wasn't it? they'd have no reason to even approach you - you were not even the wealthiest of your family.

riding in a carriage was something new to you; it was fun, though. you would've never imagined doing such a thing back at home, but now that you're doing it, you wish this happened everywhere; it was much easier than walking.

"I love horses, albert," you said, "we should bring one home, I want to learn how to ride one."

"I'll keep that in mind, (y/n)," albert replied; he wasn't interested in your interest in horses; he was interested in the path the two of you were taking - a long row of trees was all that could be seen for miles.

not to mention, that the sun was steadily going down. technical issues at the port had slowed the two of you down.

"this is so nice," you smiled as you stuck your head outside of the carriage, looking at the passing trees and feeling the cold wind blow across your face.

but, something was coming up in the distance. "(y/n), get your head back inside of the carriage," albert would demand even though he was now looking out of the window, squinting to get a better view of what was coming nearer.

"huh, why?" sitting back down in the carriage, you looked at albert, and huffed when seeing that he was still looking out of the window.

a large black figure stood in the distance... no, it was nearer than it seemed.

and... were the horses running faster?

"(y/n)!" albert pulled his head out of the window down and grabbed you, pulling you against his chest - this was his job, after all, to protect the wealthy family's child.

and then, the carriage met a sudden and violent stop.

...

blood drenched the snow beneath the captain.

the blood was not yours, nor was it albert's, but instead, it was the captain's blood; he had overexerted himself quite a bit.

forcing a carriage to come to a full stop was difficult.

as the captain carried you away from the wreckage, his blood dripping into the snow underneath him from the large gash on his arm, he glanced back at the bloody mess he had left behind.

Albert was dead, as were the coachman and the horses, and you were the sole survivor.

call it a coincidence.

...

everyone thought it was a coincidence, a coincidence that the captain was there at the crashed carriage, that he was able to save you and only you.

it was considered heroic.

no one questioned him, or his motive when he brought you to his manor. no one even questioned why they hadn't seen you since the accident.

and, in a way, that's exactly what the captain wanted - the sooner the people forget, the better.

since bringing you back to the manor, the captain had kept you near, he was rarely not near you.

so, now, even as he removed his armor and rolled his sleeve up, you were lying unconscious on the couch across from him.

it had been three days since the accident and the captain was recovering from his injuries well. though, he still bled and felt a dull ache where the gash was, most likely due to how poorly he had sewn it shut.

as he was rewrapping his wound to be sure it didn't get infected, you shifted onto your side, and the captain stilled, lifting his head to look at you.

this would be his first genuine interaction with you. how exciting.

you were confused, and disoriented as you slowly sat up, raising your hand to rub at the bandage on your temple, "albert..."

the captain's arm tensed, albert... was that the man that died protecting you? he'd have to ask at another time.

"I'm sure you're sore. i had the house staff prepare medication for when you woke up."

his words were going through one ear and out the other, you couldn't focus on anything but the dull and consistent ache on your temple.

and your struggle to remember what had led to this made it worse.

but you were sure of one thing: this was the captain, the first and strongest fatui harbinger.

the captain considered wrapping his wound later and tending to you now, but you seemed confused and in too much pain to move; you wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, so he began wrapping his wound.

he never took his eyes off of you though.

"wh-what happened," oh, your head ached painfully; you couldn't even think properly, "and where's albert...?"

the captain had finished wrapping up his wound while thinking of how to word this. I crashed your carriage and made sure everyone was dead except for you... or something less honest, something easier for you to digest.

"do you not remember? your carriage crashed. i was the one to save you," he replied, seeing that it was fit to lie for your sake, "I'm afraid I don't know of any albert."

the captain stood and left the room, coming back moments later with a small glass of think blue liquid, "medication for your injuries," he clarified as he held the glass out for you to take, "I can assure you, it will help."

he would know, he had also been taking it.

with trembling fingers, you took the glass but didn't drink from it. why should you trust him?

the captain saw your hesitation but didn't feel the need to urge you into drinking it. so, he left again and came back with an ice pack, "this would suffice, i hope?"

he took the glass from your hand and sat it down on the table behind him and kneeled at your side, he raised his hand and rested the ice pack on your temple and you made no move to stop him.

you were scared and confused.

"it is a miracle that even you survived," the captain commented, "from my view, I doubted that anyone had survived. had I not checked for survivors, i would have never known you were alive."

"albert's dead?" you asked, your voice cracking as you shifted your head to face him. the captain had looked nowhere but in your eyes this entire time, so, to get a clearer view was pleasant.

"if by albert you mean the man who protected you, then, yes," he replied- you would be far more injured had it not been for albert, "he is dead."

but, the captain was patient. had you been more injured, he would have remained near you and helped you recover. surely by that point, you would not want to leave the manor.

you looked heartbroken and the captain felt sorry for you. just as he was about to say something, a chef entered the room, holding a bowl of warm soup and a glass of cold water, "set it on the table. excuse me for a moment."

the captain stood and left, leaving the ice pack by your side. the chef sat the food on the table, and as he stood, preparing to leave, you grabbed his arm.

your leg ached painfully, as did your temple, but you couldn't bear the thought of being near the captain any longer, "help me," your voice was weak and breathy as you pleaded, "Help me up... I need to leave."

"i cannot help you, my apologies," the chef shook his head, attempting to pulling away from you, "no... i really need help, please?"

once again, he shook his head, "release my hand. i cannot help you."

it seemed he was getting desperate to get away from you. "please!" you shouldn't have raised your voice; you knew that, but you were getting desperate, so desperate that you began crying.

slowly, you tried to sit up off of the couch. "hush! do you want him to come running back?" the chef lowered his voice, leaning towards you and nudging you back onto the couch, "stay where you-"

his face stilled, and his jaw tightened, and you knew. you knew the captain back and watching

the chef stood, tugged his hand out of your hold, and left immediately, leaving you alone with the captain once more.

"was the food not to your liking?" he asked, as he approached from behind, seating himself at your side once more, looking at the untouched bowl of soup.

when you didn't reply, the captain sighed and looked at you. had you been crying? slowly, the captain raised a hand and wiped away the tears from your cheek, "what's the matter, (y/n)? this is not about the soup, I assume?"

"what's it to you? send my family a letter... I need to go home."

"you won't be going home, (y/n)," the captain stated, grabbing the ice pack and placing it back onto your temple, "I saved you after all," the captain wasn't the type to ask for anything in return, but...

"oh... um, thank you but-"

"you cannot even stand on your two feet without a struggle," the captain removed the ice pack from your temple and placed it onto your ankle, "why don't you focus on your recovery first and foremost?"

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[sugar-omi]

HELLO HELLO<333 i totally forgot to prepare for kinktober so.. be patient w me but i have some JUICY STUFF!!

honestly, this is just one big excuse to write everything that's been on my mind/in my drafts <333 or answer some requests cuz my inbox is constantly at 30+ messages... which i love but also wowowow

anyway, general tags/info about the fics..

+ gender of reader will vary. but i will try to keep it gender neutral

+ additionally, i will add tags for dom or sub/switch, bottom, or top reader

* anything without those tags will be added later. some are subject to change as i write 👍

+ the fics might be more like drabbles/imagines than one shots, which is tough but imma be writing the whole month so :,)

+ some fics have separate characters in the same scenario, but others have multiple characters in one scenario. here's how to tell the difference:

multiple x reader: [ A + B ]

separate x reader: [A / B]

* all of these are character(s) x reader

+ lastly, all kinktober posts from me will be tagged with '#sugar-omi kinktober' for easy find ;) you're welcome <3

+ ! you can find all these fics here: on ao3

DAY ONE — Breeding | bottom + fem/afab reader | [ DEREK ] ➔ link

DAY TWO — Collaring | dom/switch reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY THREE — Daddy/Mommy kink | bottom + fem/afab reader | [ DEREK / COVE ] ➔ link

DAY FOUR — Monsterfucking | bottom + fem/afab reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY FIVE — Shibari | gn + dom/top reader | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY SIX — Cross-dressing | gn + dom/top reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY SEVEN — Feminization | gn + dom/top reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY EIGHT — Neighbors-with-Benefits | bottom + gn reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY NINE — Feet + Degradation | dom/top + gn reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TEN — Praise | dom/bottom + gn reader | [ CLIFF ] ➔ link

DAY ELEVEN — Size Difference + Handjob | dom/top + gn reader | [ DEREK ] ➔ link

DAY TWELVE — Lactating + Titfucking | bottom + fem/afab reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY THIRTEEN — Car Sex | gn + bottom reader | [ CLIFF ] ➔ link

DAY FOURTEEN — Spanking | gn + dom/top reader | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY FIFTEEN — Omegaverse | bottom & top reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY SIXTEEN — Face sitting/Cunnilingus | fem/afab reader | [ COVE / BAXTER / DEREK / CLIFF] ➔ link

DAY SEVENTEEN — Fingering | bottom/sub + fem/afab reader [ COVE / BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY EIGHTEEN — Threesome | bottom reader | [ COVE + SEBASTIAN (sdv)] ➔ link

DAY NINETEEN — Double Penetration | top/dom + gn reader | [ COVE + DEREK] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY — Panty Stealing | dom + fem/afab yandere!reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-ONE — Eggs | top + gn reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-TWO — Thigh Grinding | bottom reader | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-THREE — Roleplay/"Cheating" | bottom reader | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-FOUR — Blindfold + Edging/Overstim | dom/top reader | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-FIVE — Somnophilia | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-SIX — BDSM | bottom reader | [ BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN — Deepthroat | bottom reader - demon × priest AU | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT — Exhibitionism | bottom reader - Rockstar AU | [ COVE ] ➔ link

DAY TWENTY-NINE — Sugar Daddy AU | bottom reader | [ COVE / BAXTER ] ➔ link

DAY THIRTY — Sweat/Scent kink | bottom reader | [ DEREK ] ➔ link

DAY THIRTY-ONE — Gangbang | bottom reader | [ Cove + Baxter + Derek] ➔ link

[mint-yooxgi]

{14} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour, Smut

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Seonghwa near the end, Slight Hongjoong)

Words: 16,125

Warnings: Brief mentions of anxiety and PTSD (not OC), mentions of blood, weapons. Smut: Oral (m. rec.), subby!Hwa, minor knife play and begging, I think that's it. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I'm glad I split this into two parts. I knew it was going to be long! And boy oh boy, who's excited for the next chapter? I'm excited for the next chapter! iykyk ;)) As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen

There’s an eager spring to your step as Yeosang leads you over to a side door, of which he’s just made materialize in front of your eyes. Not even the grumbling of the other seven males behind you can bring down your mood, excitement coursing through your veins as he opens the door, holding it open for you to step through in the next second.

“I’m still not used to you all being able to do that.” You comment, smiling at Yeosang in thanks as you step into the new room.

It’s a bit dark, so you can’t quite see much, but you can feel them all stepping in behind you.

“It’s great for hiding things in plain sight.” San comments, attempting to step in beside you, only for Yeosang to take his place in an instant.

“I can imagine- holy shit!” The moment the lights come on, you’re greeted by a room full of bows and arrows of various shapes and sizes.

Your jaw drops, eyes going wide as you take in the grand space before you. It’s a simple room in all aspects, square in design with mounts and racks to hold all of the various weapons that you can just tell all belong to Yeosang. Not that you would doubt that for even a minute.

Softly, you hear the sound of the door shutting behind you.

Pure excitement thrums through your veins, your body practically vibrating as you take in the space around you. Still, you keep your distance, not wanting to touch anything and risk damaging or breaking any of the various weapons lining the room. The urge to touch everything in sight is quite strong, and you cannot help the way your fingers twitch, almost subconsciously, at your sides.

“Go ahead, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles gently at you, a small nod to his head. “Don’t hold back.”

You do not need to be told twice.

Almost as soon as the words have left his mouth, you’re zipping over to the wall in front of you and inspecting all the different styles of bows. There’s a giddiness to your movements as you look over some more traditional, simplistic bows made of various materials such as metal and wood, to more intricately designed ones. Each weapon varies in colour, some curving in a singular arch, while others curve like stereotypical ‘m’ shaped birds in children’s drawings. Even the strings vary in colour, some being a pure white, while others are a dark red.

One bow in particular catches your eyes, and before you realize what you’re doing, you reach out to it. However, before you can so much as lay a single finger on the intricate carvings, you catch yourself.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you retract your hand.

A low chuckle sounds right behind you.

“It’s okay, Dearest,” Yeosang steps up to you, pressing himself against your back so that he can lean into you. His breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as his hands settle against your waist. “What’s mine is yours.”

A shiver caresses your spine, and you can practically feel him smirk against the skin of your neck.

“I just don’t want to damage anything,” you mutter, still unsure of if you should reach out and touch the gorgeous bow resting before you.

“Believe us, Darling,” Jongho comments, and you can just hear the affectionate smile that he wears in his voice as he speaks. “You don’t have to worry about damaging anything. Our weapons are made with the strongest materials available to us. You couldn’t put a scratch on them, even if you tried.”

“Not to mention the magic we imbue them with for extra protection,” Yunho hums.

Understanding flashes across your features, nodding your head almost subconsciously. Still, your eyes briefly dart over to Yeosang one last time, who’s head rests just beside your own. As soon as you see him smile and nod, you take that intricately carved bow into your hands.

Vines appear to wrap themselves around the shaft of the bow, leaves branching out in intricate designs over the wood. The string is a solid white, while the colour of the bow itself is an almost faded grey, appearing a misty green in the light. It’s not very heavy by any means, but just from merely looking at the bow, you can tell that it’s strong.

Carefully, your fingers trace over the carvings, nothing but pure wonder shining in your eyes. “Did you carve this yourself?”

You feel Yeosang nod against your shoulder, and your lips part in awe as a low gasp escapes you.

“Wow.”

“We make all of our own weapons, My Divine.” Seonghwa makes sure to keep his tone soft as he informs you of this, not wanting to disturb the moment that’s settled around you all. “Have been since the beginning.”

“That’s incredible.” You breathe out, turning to face the other seven males with that bow still in your hands. “You’re all incredible!”

The way they all smile shyly in response says it all.

“Seriously, is there anything you all can’t do?” You turn your attention back to the bow in your hands, heart thundering as you stroke a hand down the shaft of the bow.

Mingi’s lips part in response, but at the quick jab of San’s elbow to his ribs, he’s closing it.

You quirk a brow in amusement, not needing to be able to read his mind to know he was about to remind you all that he can’t cook once again.

Sparing another glance around the room, your eyes catch on another intricately carved bow. Another gasp is escaping your lips as you waddle over to it excitedly, noticing how the two tips seem to be shaped like serpents which appear to intertwine intricately with one another to make the body of the bow.

“Literally, these are so beautiful.” You say, eyes scanning over every detail that you can.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, My Dear,” Yeosang chuckles, his one hand settling onto the small of your back as you walk around the room.

“This is one of the best days of my life,” you reply honestly, walking over to the wall of arrows across from you.

In no time at all, Yeosang launches into an explanation of all the different types of arrows he uses. The majority, he’s made himself, while others have been a collaboration between him and his brothers. Wooyoung more than happily chimes in when the different poison arrows are mentioned, the two of them detailing how each poison is administered depending on the arrow. Some are injected through the shaft, while other arrows are coated in the poison which gets administered through point of contact.

The whole time, you listen intently. Your eyes never lose that shine of wonder, lips pulling upwards in a radiant smile as they all observe you taking this all in. The fact that you appear so interested, and ecstatic to learn about all of this is making their hearts sing, and their souls come alight.

Finally, they can share this with you, too.

“So,” you turn back to Yeosang after he’s finished describing how his shattering arrows work. “Which one is your favourite?”

The way his eyes light up even further at your inquiry says it all.

“Design wise,” immediately, he’s pointing at the bow carved to resemble those two intertwined snakes. “Functionality, though, is a different story.”

Leading you back over to the main wall that you had grabbed the intricately carved bow with the vines from, he’s quick to grab another off of a hook. It’s quite simplistic in design, smooth black edges greeting your vision. The bow appears to be made out of some sort of thin metal, the edges sharp in the light of the room.

Ever so carefully, Yeosang trades the bow in your hand which you have yet to let go of with this new one. He’s quick to place the wooden one back on the wall as you marvel at how light this new bow is, holding it in the air slightly beside your head.

“The edges can cut through steel.” He comments casually.

“More like anything that you can imagine.” San chuckles, crossing his arms lightly.

Anticipation claws at his chest. Really, anticipation claws at all of their chests. If this is how you’re reacting to Yeosang’s weapons, then they each cannot wait for you to see their own collections. The wonder and awe alone is enough to satiate their original burning jealousy that had arisen at the fact that it was Yeosang who managed to both get you to use his weapon with him first, as well as show you his collection.

“What’s it made out of?” You ask, nothing but curiosity to your tone as you inspect the bow. You know better than to run your fingers along the sharp edges, but that does not stop you from turning it over slightly in your hands while gripping the handle.

“It’s a special kind of metal found only in our realm.” Mingi tells you. “Most of our weapons are made out of it, since it’s the lightest material we have, while also being the most durable.”

“So, it’s like vibranium from the marvel universe?” You quirk a brow at all of them, somewhat knowingly.

“You could say that.” Seonghwa chuckles, nodding his head lightly in response to your words.

“We call it Sage Metal,” Hongjoong says. “It’s the only thing strong enough to cut itself.”

“Wow,” you repeat your awe filled exhalation from earlier. “Can it be worked like any other metal, or is there a special process you have to use while forging it?”

“It can be worked like any other metal.” Seonghwa confirms, a sort of pride shining in his eyes as he watches you with a smile. “It’s got an insanely high boiling point though, so San and Mingi have the easiest time out of all of us working with it.”

At this, your brow quirks.

“We each have materials we work best with.” Mingi shrugs. “Just like we have preferred weapons we like to use.”

“That’s really cool!” You say, handing Yeosang back his bow.

“You should have seen the amount of times our workshops caught fire in the early days.” San jokes, the slightest of upturns to the corner of his lips. “Good thing we’re quick learners.”

“Yeah, that, and you didn’t want to singe all of your hair off again.” Wooyoung laughs, leading to him soon being chased around the small space by the elder male.

You laugh, “I take it that that happened more than once?”

“To all of us.” Seonghwa confirms, voice suddenly a bit strained as he seems to be recalling the memories right this very instant. Subconsciously, he runs his fingers through his hair. “Multiple times.”

A snort of laughter escapes you this time, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles.

Amused quirks of their brows greet you in response, and you find yourself waving your free hand in front of yourself. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just really funny to imagine. I like knowing you guys weren’t always this composed.”

This time, it’s Wooyoung’s turn to snort out a laugh, “Angel, when have you ever known us to be composed around you?”

You take a moment to consider his words, even going so far as to lift a finger in protest as your lips part. Then, you’re nodding, eyebrows raising in agreement, “A good point.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jongho rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as a huff escapes him.

You simply quirk a brow in amusement at him, your one hand coming up to rub almost teasingly at the side of your neck where he bit you all those weeks ago.

Subtly, red begins to creep up his neck.

“Right, well,” he clears his throat, “Shall we move on to the next room?”

A few side-eyed looks are sent the youngest’s way in response, and you swear you see both Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s eyes flash black for the briefest of moments. However, before you can think too much on it, San is practically grabbing your hand and dragging you away from Yeosang. All too eagerly, the younger male leads you back over to the door you entered into the room from. A second later, he’s opening it and guiding you through.

Your eyes immediately light up at seeing all of the different spears, tridents, and javelins lining the walls, amongst other pole based weapons. Again, they’re all made form a range of materials in a variety of colours, and each design manages to take your breath away.

“Go wild,” San leans in to whisper in your ear, just as you hear the door fall shut behind you.

A large, giddy smile pulls onto your lips as you immediately race over to the one wall. There’s a specific spear that’s caught your eye, and the closer you get to the tip, the more detail work you can see carved into it. There seems to be a pattern of sorts etched into the metal, unfamiliar to you with all its swirls and shapes, but beautiful nonetheless.

The entire room is silent as you stand there, observing the intricate detailing of the spear’s tip. Each male watches you fondly, enjoying this moment for as long as they possibly can. Seeing your wonder and marvel at all of the designs makes their hearts race, and knowing that you’re enjoying yourself currently means the world to each and every single one of them.

Finally, you begin to move around the room, San right beside you the whole time.

“I feel like I’m in an art museum or something.” You admit lowly, voice airy and full of awe.

“Well, designing and forging weapons is simply another form of art.” Yunho nods his agreement.

“And you’ve all been making these your whole lives?” You turn to glance at the others from over your shoulder.

Small nods of confirmation greet you in response, subtle smiles pulling at all of their features.

“It’s why we take such great lengths to store them.” Yeosang adds. “Only we can access these rooms, for they are intricately linked, and can only be entered through this one door.”

Nothing but awe shines in your eyes as your lips part. A breathless ‘wow’ escapes you once more, turning lightly in a circle as you take in the whole room.

“Then, there are eight rooms?” You turn back to face them.

“Eight main ones, yes.” San says. “We have many storage rooms, and way too many weapons we no longer use.”

“That’s not to mention each of our own forges which are connected to our storehouses.” Seonghwa comments casually, leaning against the wall right beside the door.

“So, the rooms are almost like a labyrinth of sorts?” You tilt your head slightly in inquiry.

“You could say that.” Hongjoong chuckles. “It’s more of individual blocks of rooms floating in limbo within our domain until we summon the rooms to this door.”

“Ah,” you nod slowly in understanding. “I see.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards. “That’s still really cool.”

Little do you see the small, bashful smiles that tug at their features as you look away for the moment.

Turning back to face the tridents, you take in the various styles lining the wall. Some are placed vertically, while others sit horizontally, displaying the many pikes on each.

Two in particular - one silver with five prongs, and one gold with three prongs - catch your eye. Both are shiny, appearing as if they might be the newest to his collection as they are displayed side by side on a slight angle. It’s as if he purposely hung them like this; to emphasize the set they seem to make together. They’re quite familiar, and as you get closer, you realize why.

The silver one is a perfect replica of Queen Atlanna’s trident from the Aquaman film, while the gold is a perfect replica of Arthur’s own.

The way San is staring at you, his eyes shining with nothing but affection with just a hint of nervousness, says it all.

You smile, grabbing his hand in your own. Softly, you squeeze, warmth flooding your chest as you understand exactly what his intentions are. He made these for you, and him. He means for the two of you to use these together. The set never meant to be separated, or be without the other in battle.

For a brief moment, you allow him passed your void.

My Aquaman. You hum, squeezing his hand once more. Thank you.

My Queen, He mirrors your smile, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit as he squeezes your hand back. I’m just glad you like them.

Like them? You reply, rather eagerly. Sannie, I love them.

The soft giggle he lets out fills the room, his eyes crinkling in the corners with the weight of his happiness. I’m glad.

Softly, you wiggle your intertwined hands in the space between your bodies. Not even a moment later, you’re turning back to the wall of tridents, lifting your gaze to take in the ones near the top of the wall. That’s when another, near the corner of the room, catches your attention.

A gasp escapes you. “No way.”

Rushing over to the trident, you end up half dragging, half pulling San along with you. You’ve closed your void to him now, so he cannot get a sense of what it truly is that’s caught your attention. That is, until you’re speaking once more.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you have an exact replica of Finnick’s trident from Catching Fire?” You quirk a brow, glancing at him briefly.

San grins, lifting said object off of the wall. “I figured it would be a nice surprise.”

“You seem to be full of nice surprises today, Pretty Boy.” You grin right back, watching as he handles that trident carefully before you.

“So, that’s what you ran off to make that one day,” Jongho mumbles, understanding painting his features. “I was wondering why you were asking me all those questions about her favourite book series.”

“I do love The Hunger Games.” You nod, eyes widening in excitement as San hands you the trident. “Finnick is my favourite character.” Then, a moment’s pause as you look over the weapon in your hands. “Him and Annie deserved better.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho nodding solemnly along with your words.

“I thought it was that set he made that day,” Hongjoong motions back to the Aquaman tridents proudly on display.

“I had to start with something easier,” San replies, sparing a look at all of his brothers.

“You count this design as easy?” You voice, incredulously, as the fingers of your one hand come up to trace the pole gently.

San only chuckles in response, offering you a small shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t blame him.” Mingi hums, glancing from Jongho to Seonghwa. “There seems to be a recurring theme of making replicas of weapons belonging to your favourite characters and series, Starlight.”

“Speaking from experience, Min?” You place the trident back in its spot, moving over to where the others are standing after having your fill of looking around.

“You’ll see.” He chuckles, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

Only, the youngest placing his hand onto the small of your back beats him to it. You nearly shiver from the contact, the tips of his fingers pressing lightly into your bare skin. 

That’s when you remember: you’re still only in your sport’s bra for the moment.

A glare is sent Jongho’s way, not just from Mingi, but from San as well. Your time in his weapon’s hold was far too short for his liking, but at least you enjoyed yourself. A bonus? You’re still beaming as Jongho leads you back through the door.

The moment you step through the threshold to be surrounded by axes of every size, shape, and colour, your lips part in a gasp, “Oh my.”

On one wall, throwing axes and hatchets are displayed. The opposite, everything ranging from a typical fireman’s axe, to the most intricately designed single bladed axes reside. On the final wall, double bladed axes reside, one sticking out more than the rest.

Your eyes widen, practically running out of Jongho’s hold as you see the axe resting in the centre display. It’s dual blades are familiar to you, the metal smooth before giving way to two sets of three triangles hollowed out on either side of the shaft. There, detailed rune work resides, and you find you can only place your hand over your heart in attempts to quell its beating.

“I see what you mean.” You swallow thickly, nearly jumping as you feel Jongho’s hand return to the small of your back.

“It’s quite effective in battle,” Jongho mentions casually, leading you over to the wall of hatches to show you the two other small axes that Gimli has in his arsenal that he’s also taken the liberty to make.

“You’ve already used Gimli’s axe in battle?” There’s nothing but wonder in your voice as you look at him, your whole body practically vibrating in excitement.

“Not yet, technically.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “But the simulations have all run smoothly.”

You turn back to the weapons before you, nothing but wonder in your eyes, “Wow.”

You’re starting to notice a slight pattern to the rooms now. All of them seem to be about the same size, with their weapons all lining the walls. Some of them even have a few extra racks to hold certain designs, but for the most part, the main wall houses what you assume to be the favourites, while the other side walls hold the smaller designs. They’re all organized quite well, and from the gleam you can see coming from each polished weapon, you can tell that they are all well taken care of, and maintained regularly.

Something they seem to have in common for all of the things that they care for - a great sense of both responsibility, and attention to detail when looking after them.

“Come, there’s another one I want to show you.” Jongho gently guides you to the opposite wall.

Sticking out his hand, an axe comes flying off of the wall from higher up. It spins in the air as it travels the short distance to his hand, the dark silver of the single edged blade glinting in the light. There seems to be a smaller blade protruding from the opposite side of the handle, acting as a continuation of the main blade on the other side.

The instant it touches Jongho’s hand, your eyes are widening as another gasp escapes you. The veins of gold carved into the blade stand out starkly against the darkness of the silver. The wooden handle is slightly curved, the blade itself covering almost half of the length of the wood.

“No way you made Kratos’ Leviathan Axe.” Your voice holds nothing but awed disbelief as you look over every inch of that axe Jongho holds out for you. “And you can summon it to your hands like he can in the game?”

“We can summon all of our weapons to our hands like that, My Love.” Hongjoong chuckles, eyebrows raising in amusement as he sees the glare Jongho sends him for stealing his thunder.

“How does it work?” You spare a glance at all of them around the room.

“Usually just requires a drop of our blood and a binding spell.” Seonghwa explains.

“So, that’s how you can make your weapons appear out of thin air?” You ask, wonderstruck. “Not cause you’re doing something like reaching through realms, or into a pocket of space?”

Yunho chuckles, along with Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Mingi.

“No, Petal,” he grins fondly at your curious expression. “Unfortunately we cannot do that, but it is how we are able to summon our weapons to us instantly.”

“Does it work on other things, too?” You inquire, nearly dropping the axe in your excitement as Jongho hands it to you.

“It works on anything we bind ourselves to in that way.” Mingi confirms.

“So, if you wanted to summon each other?” You tilt your head slightly as you finally get a good grip on the handle of the axe. “It’d be different than your transportation thingy?”

“Slightly.” Hongjoong confirms. “Think of it as a mere aspect of our teleportation.”

“But still different than a proper summoning spell.” Yeosang adds.

You nod, spinning that axe slowly in your hands as you look over the detail work.

“Would it work in battle?” You glance upwards. “If you ever needed to save each other from a killing blow? Or if one of you needed back up?”

“Normally, we’d just use our teleportation for that.” Mingi shrugs, leaning against an open part of the wall.

“That’s fair,” you hum, eyes shifting their focus back to the axe in your hands.

Where the gems would normally reside, you’ve noticed two other small jewels in their place. One is an opal, and the other is your own birthstone. A fact of which makes you smile, for you know both are meant to represent you and Jongho.

“With this summoning thing, is it automatic if you think of the item?” You hand Jongho the axe back, not wanting to risk damaging it right now as your curiosity is getting the better of you.

“It’s practically second nature to us now.” Wooyoung confirms with a nod. “The closer the object, the easier it is to summon it.”

“That makes sense.” You nod, eyes catching on another intricately carved axe for the moment. “Oh!”

The blade is hollowed in some areas, giving a sort of skeleton design to the metal. It’s intricately carved, the design looking more for style than functionality. However, you know that it’s more than likely made out of that Sage Metal that they told you about earlier. The axe is more than durable, and certainly functional.

“This is beautiful,” you breathe, tracing the spaces in the metal lightly with your index finger. Of course, you make sure not to touch the edges of the metal, not wanting to cut yourself on accident. Who knows how they would react to that.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Jongho whispers lowly into your ear as he steps up behind you, wrapping you in his arms.

A snort of laughter escapes you, lips parting in disbelief.

“Oh, Baby Bear,” you chuckle lowly, shaking your head. “Please don’t say such cringy things to me. You’re more suave than that.”

You don’t have to look at him to see the giant pout Jongho now wears on his features, only deepened by the laughter of his brothers.

“Oh, can it.” He turns to them, a frown on his features. “You were all thinking it, too.”

Again, you shake your head, lovingly this time. “What am I going to do with all of you?”

Wooyoung slides right up to your side, pulling you out of Jongho’s embrace and into his own. Carefully, he begins leading you back to the door.

“Love us unconditionally for all eternity?” There’s a hint of hope in his eyes, swirling within that all too familiar admiration and adoration you’ve become so used to from him. 

From all of them.

You hum, pretending to think about it for a moment. You stop just before the closed door, sparing a glance around at all of them briefly.

You smile lovingly, “That can be arranged.”

Low hums of content greet your ears as you reach forward to open the door. You do not need to look at them to know that they are gazing at you with nothing but a tender fondness in their eyes right now. You can feel it surrounding you as you step through the door, flooding your veins and comforting you right down to your very core.

Their unspoken response rings loud and clear through your mind, despite your void still being up. There is no doubt in your mind that they will do the same: love you unconditionally for all eternity. They’ve already proven, in more ways than one, that they do.

The moment you refocus in on the room surrounding you, your eyes catch on bottles upon bottles lining the shelves built into every free inch of the walls of this room. Various colourful liquids reside inside, some even appearing to glow with how vibrantly they shine beneath the lights. Small vials rest beside them, and you think you know what rests inside those.

Understanding flashes across your features and you turn to Wooyoung who practically shakes in excitement beside you.

“So, which one is the deadliest?” You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards.

A giddy smile stretches across his features, which then slowly morphs into a sly smirk, “No hesitation, huh, Angel?”

“I’m curious,” You shrug, nonchalantly.

He hums, “It’s just over here.”

Leading you over to a wall with the darkest liquids residing on the shelves, Wooyoung lifts his free hand. Instantly, a bottle of the blackest void comes rushing to his fingers, thick in texture and hardly sloshing around inside its container. Faintly, you swear you can hear hissing coming from his hand.

“There is no toxin more deadly than my own creations.” He tells you. “This one, though, is the worst.”

“Are you immune?” You glance up at him, a curious glint in your eyes.

“I’m immune to every poison you can imagine, and then some.” He hums, that grin still tugging at his features as he hands you the bottle of that thick black liquid. “But I always have antidotes close at hand.”

He motions around him to the small vials resting beside the bottles.

“We’re not as immune as he is to some of his creations.” Jongho grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But most of them, you are?” You spare a glance at the rest of them standing over by the door.

“That would be correct, My Love.” Hongjoong nods. “His most deadly, he’s made sure we’re immune to.”

“It’s considerate, considering the amount of times he’s used us as guinea pigs for new concoctions.” San grumbles, narrowing his eyes pointedly at Wooyoung.

You turn your head back to the aforementioned male who seemingly shrinks slightly in his spot.

“You guys volunteer.” He mumbles.

“Yeah,” Yunho rolls his eyes playfully. “That’s cause we never actually know what we’re signing up for.”

“It’s not my fault you all have different side effects than what I intend sometimes!” Wooyoung counters, a large pout pulling at his features. “It’s not like it’s intentional.”

“Sometimes, I feel like it is.” Yeosang states, rather pointedly.

“I don’t know,” you hum. “Isn’t the point of vaccines to inject some of the original virus or disease into your body so you know how to fight off the living cells, were they to enter your system?”

“See. At least My Angel understands my methods!” Wooyoung perks back up, tightening the hold of his one arm that rests around your waist. “There’s a whole process! You can’t just be immune. It’s not in your blood!”

“And it’s in yours?” San’s brow quirks knowingly.

“Actually, yes. It is.” Wooyoung states, rather proudly. “Most of my poisons contain some aspect of my blood in them, whether diluted or pure. That’s why they can be so toxic.”

“That’s really cool!” You chime in, having way too much fun watching the thick liquid slide around in the bottle every time you tip it upside down.

“So, there!” Wooyoung sticks his tongue out playfully at his brothers.

“Are there any kinds of toxins you’ve made that have a different effect than just poisoning the victim?” You turn your attention back to Wooyoung. “You know, like paralysis, or something?”

“Do I ever!” Wooyoung practically bounces on his feet as he leads you to the opposite wall. “This one-“ he points to a bright pink liquid, “is similar to a sleeping drought, but too much will cause the heart to stop for any living thing.”

You nod, staring intently at the bottle in front of you.

“This one-“ he points to an almost transparent green liquid, “causes your muscles to seize and inflicts unbearable pain throughout the body. Great for immobilizing people, but not quite paralysis in it’s literal sense.”

“Oh, wow.” You observe said liquid carefully.

“I also have certain tonics that effect emotions, a person’s state of mind or being, as well as ones that can essentially put people into either a comatose state, or loosen their tongue if we need a ‘physical’ way to gather information for assassinations.” He explains.

“So, you have truth telling serums?” Your brow quirks, the corner of your lips twitching upwards.

“I have any and every type of tonic you can think of.” Wooyoung nods, quite proudly at that.

You nod, eyes never leaving that shelf in front of you.

“So, then,” you begin. “Which is a stronger aphrodisiac? Your blood, or one of your tonics?”

The sound of shattering glass sounds behind you, and you turn to see Seonghwa and Mingi both cursing to themselves. Bottles, or what’s left of them, lay broken at their feet, the sound of hissing greeting your ears as liquid seeps over the ground.

“Careful with those,” Wooyoung waves his hand, cleaning the mess in an instant. “Some mixtures are deadly, even to us, if cross contaminated with each other.”

“We’ll just make sure to knock into the non-fragile glass bottles, next time.” Seonghwa grumbles, wiping off the front of his shirt rather harshly.

“Glass bottles are the most effective containers for acidic poisons, especially if reinforced by magic.” Wooyoung states, matter of factly.

“But they can still shatter on impact with the floor.” Jongho quirks a brow, matter of factly.

“You win some, you lose some.” Wooyoung shrugs, before turning his attention back to you for the moment. “To answer your question, Angel, it would be this one right here.” A bottle with a liquid as clear as day is instantly in his one hand. “This is the strongest aphrodisiac we own, besides our blood.”

“Oh?” Your lips twitch upwards in the corner, brow quirking. “So, they’re on par with one another, then?”

“Not quite,” Wooyoung’s eyes begin to swirl with that all too familiar darkness. “This is just a little stronger, since it’s undiluted in that sense.”

You hum, “Interesting.”

“Why?” San’s voice, low and gravelly reaches your ears as his hooded gaze meets your own. “Want to give it a try?”

All eight sets of eyes are on you in an instant, darkness swirling within.

You smirk, “Perhaps some other time.”

Eight low growls reach your ears as you walk back over to the door. You can feel the weight of their heated stares on you, even as you glance towards them from over your shoulder.

“Shall we?” You drawl out, a teasing flick to your brows.

Yunho seems to be the first to recompose himself, quickly moving over to you and placing his hand onto the skin of your upper back. Gently, he guides you through the door, clearing his throat all the while.

“I don’t tend to use many weapons, so my storehouse is a bit of the miscellaneous designs we keep for the occasional use.” He explains. “I do tend to like shredding things, whether physical, or mental, though.”

Again, your eyes light up as you take in the various unconventional designs around you. You can tell they’ve experimented with multiple angles and materials, each weapon given certain liberties over the rest. Everything from large hammers to thin whips with metal spikes attached to them line the walls, allowing you to see the various techniques they all know how to use in battle depending on the weapon.

Serrated blades, tools, saws, and even some scythes and rifles also line the walls.

Your brow quirks at the cage of guns off to the side.

“For our assassinations, mainly.” Yunho is quick to tell you, to which you’re immediately nodding your head in understanding.

“Who’s the best sniper?” You turn to them, looking over each male individually.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong are amazing.” Wooyoung immediately boasts, a proud smile tugging at his lips.

“Really, we’ve got nothing on Mingi, though.” Hongjoong says, averting his gaze somewhat bashfully as red creeps up his neck.

At Seonghwa’s nod in agreement, you turn to the aforementioned male. Lightly, a grin pulls at the corner of your lips.

You let Mingi in.

I always knew you were way cooler than James Bond. You meet his gaze with an affectionate look of your own. Definitely proves it.

Mingi giggles, brushing tenderly against your mind with his own as his eyes crinkle at the sides.

You turn back to the main wall of weapons. “You all contribute to this stockade, or is it more trial and error?”

“A little bit of both.” San says, the others nodding in agreement. “Sometimes we even get certain materials from our friends that we play around with when creating weapons.”

At this, your brow quirks.

“Well, sometimes we aren’t simply given things.” Wooyoung chuckles. “Like when Jongho used the teeth from the snakes of the last gorgon leader to make a tiny mace.”

Jongho simply glares at Wooyoung in response.

“Not going to lie, that’s pretty cool.” You reply, nonchalantly. “Do you guys have any transforming weapons?”

“Mingi made the Beastcutter from Bloodborne.” Seonghwa comments casually.

Your jaw drops. “You did not.”

The second Mingi sticks his hand out, a weapon flies off of the wall. Sure enough, holding it out to you reveals it to be a life-size replica of the Beastcutter from Bloodborne.

“Holy shit.” There is no hiding the awe in your eyes as he passes it to you, you giggling like a maniac soon after.

“If I recall, Mingi’s made a lot of replicas of From Soft weapons.” Yeosang adds, humming lightly to himself.

“You have?” That awe filled gaze of yours is back on Mingi, who’s neck begins to turn bright red as he nods. “That’s incredible!”

He lifts a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “It’s nothing.”

“Moonlight, I wish you wouldn’t downplay your skills sometimes.” You comment, patting his arm affectionately. Then, you’re practically bouncing on your feet as the Beastcutter is returned to its original spot. “Now, show me, show me, show me!”

Mingi chuckles lowly, “Of course, Starlight.” He leads you back to the door, his arm gently finding purchase around your waist. “Right this way.”

Carefully, Mingi guides you through the door and into his own storehouse of weapons, his brothers following closely behind. The sound of the door shutting is synonymous with your gasp, your eyes practically shining as you take in the sets of weapons lining the walls, mainly consisting of dual blades.

At one particular set that is bright red, the edges of the blades artfully chipped, a dramatic gasp escapes you.

“No way!” You point at the blades, scurrying over to them while hopping around on your feet. “You made the Rivers of Blood from Elden Ring into a two sword set?”

“I had to compromise a bit on length, but the design is the same.” He shrugs, plucking them off of the wall and giving them each a spin in his hands.

You practically swoon as a result. “Somebody pinch me, I’m in heaven.”

Low chuckles resound around the room, each male loving how your excitement never seems to cease for even one moment. The fact that Mingi continues to captivate you currently by performing small tricks with the blades has them beaming. Though, a few, such as Hongjoong, Jongho, and Seonghwa, all wish it were them that were impressing you in such a way instead.

Again, Mingi chuckles, placing the Rivers of Blood back in their spot before pulling two other katanas off of the wall. They also seem familiar to you, though you can’t seem to figure out why.

“I dubbed these ones my Deadpool set.” Mingi explains with a grin, giving them each a spin in his hands.

“I was wondering why they looked so familiar,” You hum, nodding slightly. “If you pull out the Blades of Chaos next, I might need to sit down.”

The grin Mingi wears is nothing short of gleeful as he replaces the katanas on the wall. In a blink, he holds out his hands, chains wrapping around his forearms before a dual set of particularly carved blades appear held in his grip.

You physically feel your legs give out beneath you, a hand coming up to press against your forehead as you fall backwards.

Luckily, Yunho appears just in time to catch you.

“I’m dreaming.” You mutter lowly, nothing but awe in your voice. “This is a dream, and I’m in heaven.”

More fond chuckles greet your ears.

“It’s a shame the blades are more for show than anything,” Mingi somewhat pouts. “Still worth seeing every one of your reactions, though, Starlight.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard something about them being impractical in real life cause of the chains or something.” You manage to right yourself on your feet, affectionately patting Yunho’s hands which he keeps wrapped around your waist. “The blades could still be effective on their own, though. Can they not?”

The grin that stretches across Mingi’s face says it all.

“Now, if you go around bathing them in fire as you use them, I might faint for real.” You comment casually.

His eyebrow quirks, “Promise?”

“You want me to faint?” You snort out a laugh.

“If it’s from something cool that I’ve done,” Mingi shrugs, storing the blades back in their place. “Why not?”

“Touché.” You hum, sparing another glance around the room. Your eyes catch briefly on a set of blades, curved to resemble human spines. You smile. “Seriously guys, this is incredible.”

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest.” Yeosang smiles, nothing but tender fondness reflected in his eyes.

“Like I said, this is one of the best days of my life.” You breathe out. “I’ve always had a fascination with different types of weapons since I was small. It’s nice not having to hide my excitement about them anymore. Especially about ones that I long since thought could only be used in fictional settings, or for cosplay.”

“Hearing you rant and rave about certain styles of weapons when we watch those…” Jongho grimaces slightly, irritation shining briefly on his features, “Let’s Players, sticks with us, you know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Jacksepticeye, Baby Bear.” You quirk a brow.

At the few grumbles you hear, you begin to laugh.

“You seem to be overtly fond of him.” Hongjoong mutters lowly.

You shrug. “He’s funny.”

Low growls sound from Yeosang, Mingi, San, and Seonghwa.

“Again, just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean I don’t.” You remind them.

“That’s the problem, Angel.” Wooyoung mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The fact I find him entertaining?” You quirk a brow, noticing how they remain quiet for the most part. “Wait, is this why you all started playing God of War and Bloodborne? So, I wouldn’t watch his play-throughs anymore?”

“No.” Jongho answers, much too quickly.

“We also needed to get better insight of the weapons when making them.” Mingi says, matter of factly.

A smack is given to the elder male from the youngest as you stare at them knowingly. Then, your eyes seemingly glaze over, deep in thought.

“You said you make weapons out of materials sometimes gifted to you from others, right?” Your brow is furrowed as you step out of Yunho’s embrace, much to the male’s discontent.

“That’s correct.” Yeosang confirms.

You hum to yourself, beginning to pace back and forth as your mind reels.

“How strong are dragon teeth?” You pause, lifting your head to spare a glance at all of them.

Understanding flashes behind their eyes.

“They are extremely durable and versatile, My Divine.” Seonghwa replies, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Some of the strongest bones in all the realms. Other than their horns, of course.”

“And baby dragon’s teeth?” You quirk a brow.

“Not as durable, but strong all the same.” Yunho confirms.

Again, you hum, shifting to face Hongjoong. “Can I see Mon’s teeth for a moment?”

By the time you’ve extended your hands, Hongjoong has that green cloth placed upon your palms. You turn just in time to see a wooden table appear beside you, the guys all moving in to stand around it as you work.

Carefully, you unwrap the package that is Mon’s baby teeth. Once you have that cloth covering the main portion of the table, you begin arranging them in a particular pattern. Slowly, a triangle begins to form, Mon’s teeth outlining the shape.

“Our conversation just now gave me an idea,” you begin, righting yourself so you’re no longer hunched over the table. “A bit literal for serrated teeth, but I think it works well.”

A gentle hand is placed onto your lower spine curtesy of Mingi. Sparing a glance at him reveals his lips to be tugging upwards into a proud smile.

“I don’t know how the logistics will work, but if you can make the Beastcutter, then I’m sure you can make a Saw Spear,” You meet Mingi’s gaze. “No?”

A pride swirls behind his gaze, his chest puffing out the slightest bit. “I think that can be arranged.”

The smile that takes over your features lights up the entire room, excitement pouring off of you in waves. “Really?”

“Most definitely.” San confirms with a nod. “We can all help with this one.”

“You’d all really do this for me?” You spare a glance at all of them, noticing how tenderly they look at you.

“Of course!” Wooyoung confirms eagerly. “It’s not every day Our Queen asks us to make her her own weapon.”

You share an excited giggle.

“Listen, I want to be able to have something to call my own,” you grin. “Preferably not just a bat. I’m not sure how intimidating our enemies will find me only wielding a weapon like that.”

“Believe me, Baby,” San chuckles. “You’re plenty intimidating with a bat.”

“So I’ve heard.” You smile slyly.

“We could make you a personalized bat, too, Dearest.” Yeosang offers. “Anything and everything your heart desires, know that it’s yours.”

Lifting your head to meet his gaze, your eyes crinkle as your smile morphs into a loving one. 

“How about we start with this for now?” You say softly. “I’m sure I’ll think of more when the time comes. Believe me when I say there’s no shortages of weapon’s designs in my mind. But for now, there’s still two more main storehouses to see, and I’d also love to see a forge if there’s time. I am getting hungry.”

“Well then,” Yunho nods, noticing how his brothers all wear the same look of affection spreading across his face in this moment. “What are we waiting for?”

Leaving Mon’s teeth laid out on the table at their request, you walk back over to the door. This time, it’s Hongjoong that opens it, stepping through to hold it as you follow shortly behind.

If you’re being honest with yourself, his and Seonghwa’s rooms are the ones you’re most anticipating. Long since have you fantasized about what their own blades will look like, and now, you find your whole body shaking with excitement as you step through the threshold.

The instant you see the wall of daggers before you, a loud gasp escapes you. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, eyes flitting all over the weapons on display before you. Everything from ceremonial daggers, to jewelled blades rest before you in an array of designs. There even seems to be a small display case in front of the main wall with a dagger inside, resting upon a cushion. It looks familiar to you, and as you get closer, you realize why.

There seems to be a blade missing from the set, but you say nothing. Still, you cannot help but to zero in on that cushion, noting the slight indent where the second dagger should reside.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Hongjoong stiffen, but you opt to say nothing for now.

Sets of throwing knives line the one wall, some collections housing upwards of twenty blades. You take the time to observe everything, walking slowly around the room and taking it all in. Each blade manages to take your breath away, your heart racing erratically in your chest as excitement courses through your veins.

Hongjoong, you notice, still remains unusually quiet. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks nervous, especially when you glance towards that display case in front of the main wall every now and again.

Turning to the others, you smile lightly, “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

A few quirked brows are sent your way in response, but they comply, nonetheless.

“We’ll meet you in your storeroom, okay, Mars?” You catch his gaze, noticing how he nods in understanding as soon as the words escape you.

Slowly, you watch as they all step through the door, and only once you see it fall shut, the small click resounding throughout the room, do you turn back to face Hongjoong.

There’s an almost reserved look in his eyes as he avoids your gaze. Slowly, he shifts from foot to foot, his hands clasped in front of himself.

Your expression falls.

Silently, you approach him, gently lifting his hands into your own.

“What’s wrong, My Love?” Your inquiry is soft, giving his hands a small squeeze in order to coax him to meet your eyes.

He’s unusually silent as he shakes his head, staring intently at your intertwined hands.

Normally, this room is a huge sense of pride for him. However, as soon as he saw you glance the display case with only the one dagger inside, his heart plummeted. Selfishly, he kept it there in its spot because he could not bring himself to get rid of it. Now though, he fears he made the wrong call, for that pillar acts as a stark reminder of every misdeed he’s ever performed. That case stands almost mockingly; a tombstone that could have been yours.

“Hongjoong,” Worry pulls at your brow as you lift a hand up to guide his gaze to yours. Tenderly, your thumb brushes against his cheek. “You’re unusually quiet right now, and I’m extremely concerned. I thought you’d be ecstatic to show me your collection today.”

He purses his lips, and you can see a hint of fear flash behind his eyes.

“Is this about the set of daggers in that case?” Your tone is nothing but gentle.

The way he stiffens beneath your touch says it all.

The way that you can tell that this is affecting him negatively has your heart squeezing painfully in your chest. It’s clear to you that Miyeon still has her claws buried deep within his guilt, and all you want to do is reassure him as best you can in this moment. Only, you’re not quite sure how.

“They were-“ he clears his throat of the roughness that resides in his voice, “They were meant to be ours.”

Your gaze shifts to the small display case where that lone blade sits.

“The daggers,” You breathe.

He nods. “I made them for us.”

You squeeze his one hand once more, gently guiding him over to the display case so you can get a closer look.

Still, he refuses to so much as glance at that singular dagger.

“I wanted that one to be yours, and the other to be mine, but she-“ his voice hitches, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t think I could ever look at my dagger the same way again. Not after what she did to you with it. Yet, I can’t bring myself to destroy the set. It held so much meaning to me when I made them, that I just-”

He doesn’t finish his thought. Instead, his shoulders droop and he turns the slightest bit away from you.

Shame weighs heavy on his shoulders, regret adding its toll.

You take a moment to observe the dagger in the case. It’s certainly familiar, but you notice slight discrepancies to the one you’ve already seen. This dagger’s blade is slightly thinner, the handle carved in the opposite direction to its matching pair. You can tell that they’re meant to be put together. A set, never to be separated.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You turn to him, and your words finally draw a reaction from him. “Destroy them, I mean.”

“My Love?” There’s clear surprise on his features, not having expected you to say anything along those lines.

If Hongjoong is being honest with himself, he expected you to start cursing him out for not getting rid of the very weapon that caused you such harm. He was certain that you’d be screaming at him, asking him why he would keep such vile weapons around after what they did to you.

To say your tender look of affection shocks him would be a great understatement.

“You still have the other dagger, then?” You ask him softly, rubbing your thumb tenderly over the back of his hand.

Slowly, albeit hesitantly, he nods.

“May I see it?” The question is gentle in all meaning of the sense, making sure to keep your voice low as you look at him with kind eyes.

A moment’s hesitation before he nods. Then, he has the other dagger in his free hand, holding the handle out for you to take.

Meeting his gaze, you smile assuringly at him. Maintaining eye contact, you gently slip that dagger out of his hold, gripping it firmly in your one hand. Only then do you spare a glance down at one of the weapons that had caused you such pain all those long weeks ago.

Just as you thought, this one is slightly bigger, the blade both a little thicker and longer in length.

“This one was meant to be yours?” You lift your gaze to his, noticing how intently he watches you in this very moment.

He nods.

You let your intertwined hands fall to rest in the space between your bodies, letting them sway gently back and forth.

“Will you hold onto mine?” There’s nothing but a hopeful gleam to your eyes as you watch him nod.

Slowly, he unlocks the case. Once the glass is opened, he lifts your dagger out with the utmost of care, holding it delicately in his hand. The way that he’s standing perfectly mirrors you in every way, and you cannot help the small upturn of your lips at that fact.

“Hongjoong, I wish to keep these daggers together,” you begin. At the way you see his lips part in protest, you’re quick to continue, “She was the one who used it to hurt me, not you. I know for a fact that you would rather carve out your own heart than bring me any harm. Your dagger didn’t hurt me. She did.”

The hitch in his breath is audible, even to you.

“I know you may not have intended it this way, but I wish to keep this one as my own.” You lift the dagger in your hand slightly. “And I wish for you to use that one. Let me reclaim the weapon that was used to hurt me, and know that it is meant to symbolize your undying loyalty and protection. Let me wield you in battle, just as you will wield me when the time comes.”

The way your eyes flash over to that dagger held in his hand as you speak those words says it all.

“These daggers are for us, meant to protect each other.” You state, rather firmly. “I think it’s time we allow them the proper use. Don’t you?”

He swallows thickly, his lips parting as tears line his eyes. He squeezes your hand.

“Yes,” he breathes, nodding his head once quite firmly. He blinks, and the first of his tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “Yes, My Queen. Always.”

Softly, you smile at him, guiding him into your embrace as he buries his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his sobs wracking his body as he holds onto you tightly, clinging to you both for dear life, but also in gratitude for what this moment means to the both of you. No longer will you allow Miyeon to control either of you. It’s time to reclaim that which has been stolen. All of it.

Pulling away from him slightly, you stare deeply into his eyes. The corners of your lips tug upwards in a loving smile, and you manage to brush some stray hairs out of his eyes.

“I am so deeply in love with you, My King.” There is no waver in your voice as you say this, pouring every ounce of sincerity that you can into your words. “Know that nothing will ever change that.”

“My Queen,” The words are but a whisper on his lips as he pulls you tighter against him. “Thank you, for believing in me.”

The smile you offer him says it all, nothing but tender love and affection shining within your gaze as you lean forward to kiss him gently. A kiss which he is all too eager to reciprocate, letting the movement of his lips over your own tell you of all the ways in which he loves you. The ways in which he will always love you, and appreciate all that you mean to him.

All too soon, you’re pulling away in order to rest your forehead on his.

“The daggers are beautiful, My Love,” Your words are but a soft caress against his lips. “Thank you for keeping them as one.”

Hongjoong manages a small smile in response. “I am simply happy you like them, My Queen.”

“I love them, Joongie.” Your reply is immediate, pulling the slightest bit back from him to admire the detailing on the handles once more. “It means a lot to me that you made them for us.”

“Of course, My Love,” Gently, he returns them both to their spots on top of the cushion inside the display. He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again. In a soft voice, he admits, “I made them the day I knew I wanted you to become Our Queen.” He turns to you, eyes holding nothing but love for you swirling within that familiar darkness. “My Queen.”

Your expression softens, “All the more reason to keep them, and use them as you’ve always intended.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He chuckles lowly, offering you his hand as he steps in beside you.

Without any hesitation, you place your hand in his.

“I am curious, though,” you hum. “Did you keep the other one? The jewelled one from David’s shop?”

A blink, and that familiar dagger is in his free hand.

Your eyes go wide, a thrum of excitement going through you.

“I think it’s time it was given back to the woman who always deserved it,” He grins, a knowing glint in his eyes as he holds out the handle for you to take. “Don’t you?”

Eagerly, you nod your head, reaching out to take that dagger into your free hand.

You take a moment to look it over, twirling that blade in your grip lightly. A small smile rests on your features, eyes sparkling as you finally grasp the handle firmly in your hand.

Little do you see how fondly Hongjoong watches over you in this very moment. Though, from the way you lift your head to meet his gaze, you manage to catch the very look resting on his features.

“Thank you, Joongie,” You lean in to place an affectionate kiss upon his cheek. “This truly means a lot to me.”

“Your happiness means the world to me, My Love.” Hongjoong smiles, giving your one hand still held in his a small squeeze. “I’m simply glad you can finally have everything you’ve always desired.”

“It’s because of you, you know.” You turn to face him just as you reach the door. “I’ve only been able to achieve this because of you. Because of all of you.”

Hongjoong’s heart warms, and he leans in to place a lingering kiss upon your forehead. “Then, how wonderful it will be to spend the rest of eternity with one another.”

Your own heart swells with nothing but happiness, “How wonderful indeed.”

With a final squeeze of your intwined hands, you exit the room.

The moment you step into Seonghwa’s own weapon’s hold, you’re greeted by chaos. Both him and Mingi appear to be sparring with some of his swords, while Yeosang chases both San and Wooyoung around with a sword of his own. Yunho stands off to the side with Jongho, both males shaking their heads with their arms crossed over their chests.

“Did I miss something?” You quirk a brow playfully, successfully drawing their attention to both you and Hongjoong standing just inside the threshold of the door.

“Wooyoung and San were being smartasses, as usual.” Jongho shakes his head once more.

“Hey!” Said males whine at the same time.

“Then, why was Yeosang chasing you with- oh my god, is that Major General Armstrong’s sword?” You practically shove Wooyoung out of the way to take the sword from Yeosang’s grip. 

Unfortunately, you fail to miss the large pout that now pulls onto Hongjoong’s features as you essentially leave him in the dust in order to observe this new sword. Nor do you see the pout that Wooyoung wears as he looks to you with large, pleading eyes.

With your dagger held in your one hand, and the sword in the other, you take in the detailing of the metal. The floral design engraved on the length of the blade takes your breath away, and you begin shaking in excitement once more.

Then, you’re nodding to yourself almost subconsciously, “Very beautiful. Very powerful.”

“I’m glad you like it, My Divine.” Seonghwa chuckles affectionately, coming to stand beside you as the others return to their respective spots near the door. “Come, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Lifting your gaze, Seonghwa cannot deny the hitch in his breath as he sees your wondrous expression light up your features. The awe alone he can see says it all.

He swallows thickly.

Handing him the sword back, you finally take in the other blades residing on the surrounding walls.

“No way you have a wall full of just katanas- are those Zoro’s?” Another squeal leaves you as you rush over, gazing intently at the multiple swords lined up in a row.

Sure enough, upon closer inspection, the katanas in front of you correspond to the multiple ones Zoro has used throughout the course of One Piece.

“Seriously, I’m in heaven.” You sigh, dreamily.

Low chuckles sound from behind you, and you can feel all of their fond gaze on you as you dart around the room.

“No way!” A dramatic gasp escapes you as a particular blade catches your eye from across the room. “You made Sting?”

Just as you did with Yeosang’s bow in the first room, you go to reach out for it. Only, you hesitate, not sure if you should actually touch these weapons or not.

“Go ahead, My Divine,” Seonghwa chuckles, stepping in right beside you and placing a loving hand onto the skin of your lower back. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Practically shoving the dagger in your hands in his direction, you silently tell him to hold onto the jewelled blade while you lift Sting carefully off its display. Nothing but wonder resides in your gaze as you take in the detail work of the craftsmanship. The blade is unusually light, too, just as described in the book.

“If you tell me that this blade can also glow blue, I can and will faint right now.” You lift your gaze to his own, excitement pouring off of you in waves.

A soft chuckle falls from Seonghwa’s lips, “We’ll have to go visit some orcs, then.”

Your lips part, eyes widening as you visibly begin to shake. Not even a moment later, you’re zooming around the room, muttering to yourself about this being the best day of your life once more.

Hopping around the storehouse, you take in the rest of the swords lining the walls. You cannot keep the smile off of your face, almost subconsciously muttering a tune to yourself as you browse the selection of weapons before you.

“Oh, the wonders of weapons,” you hum, no longer paying any mind to the eight other males in the room, of whom watch you fondly. “The wonders of weapons of Kings.” You giggle. “My Lovely Kings.” 

They smile.

“My lovers are eight powerful, demonic Kings.” Your voice is low, but they still hear you loud and clear. A fact of which sets their hearts racing inside of their chests. “And I’m their One and Only Queen.”

Eight low growls of approval sound from behind you. Sparingly, you glance over your shoulder, offering them each a blissful smile.

“Today is a most wonderful day.” You continue to hum to yourself, bouncing around on the soles of your feet from one spot to another. “Spending it with the people I love.”

Rumbles of content fill the room, and you bound over to the eight of them with a vibrant smile lighting up your face. You take the time to give each one of them a kiss on the cheek, muttering how much you love them each time you do. A sentiment which is immediately echoed by each male as soon as you address them individually.

Still, you cannot prevent yourself from rocking excitedly on your feet as you see the large, dopey grins they offer you in return.

“Thank you.” You take the time to meet all of their gazes. “For today. For everything.” Your heart swells in your chest. “You all seriously don’t know how happy you make me.”

“The feeling is very much mutual, Petal.” Yunho hums, the same warmth that is currently flooding his chest heard clearly in his voice as he addresses you.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest.” Yeosang adds, clasping his hands almost lovingly in front of himself as he gazes at you fondly.

You nod, vigorously at that. “Can I see one of your forges, now?”

“Of course, My Divine.” Seonghwa extends his free hand out to you, your dagger still held tightly in his opposite hand.

“Oh, thanks for holding onto that for me, Mars.” You reach over, taking your dagger back from him as he walks you both over to the door. “I-“

Your words die in your throat as the door opens to reveal a grandiose space. There’s a large wooden table that lines the one wall, the forge worked into the opposite corner. A floor to ceiling window resides near the forge itself, displaying a beautiful field with mountains in the distance. Hardly any clouds line the sky, the sun shining and illuminating the space all around.

Various weapons line the room, stacked on top of each other or resting against the wall where various tools and materials hang. There even seems to be a closet off to the side, which you would bet anything houses even more weapons that are currently being worked on, or have even been finished.

“Wow,” You breathe out, nothing but wonder on your features as you take it all in.

Carefully, you place your dagger onto the top of the wooden table off to the side, spinning around a few times to take in the full room around you. Seonghwa, of course, gives you enough space to do so, watching you with such a tender look in his eyes.

“Do all of your workshops look the same?” You turn to face them.

“More, or less.” Jongho tilts his head slightly from side to side. “Some of our tools vary due to the types of weapons we forge, but the setup is pretty much identical.”

“That’s so cool!” You say, awe clear in your voice.

“If you peek through the window, you can actually see the outlines of all of our forges in the hills.” Yunho motions with his head for you to take a look.

Instantly, you’re at the window, eyes scanning the area to see multiple windows buried seemingly inside the hills just outside.

“Woah,” You turn back around to face them. “That must come in handy when you need to borrow things from each other while welding.”

“It is quite convenient.” Mingi nods in confirmation. “Especially if one of the others has a material you need while crafting.”

“I can imagine.” You hum, eyes flitting over the table and taking in all of the little trinkets scattered about.

There seems to be a whetting stone placed near the corner, some scraps of black leather cut into pieces along the top. Some tools rest here and there, but for the most part, the space is clean.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Hongjoong nudge Seonghwa with his elbow.

You quirk a brow.

Seonghwa clears his throat.,“Actually, I have two things I wish to give you, My Divine.”

“You do?” There’s nothing but wonder in your tone as you watch him move around his workspace.

For a brief moment, Seonghwa enters that little closet at the side of the room. When he comes back, both of his hands are held behind his back.

You blink, curiosity getting the better of you as you attempt to see what he could be hiding.

“This one, we all agreed on a long time ago.” He says, sharing a brief look around the room at his brothers who all smile softly at you in response. “I reinforced it, so it no longer has to be simply decorative. Unless you desire it to be.”

In one swift movement, Seonghwa pulls his right hand out from behind his back. A familiar silver sword rests there, jewels glinting in the light.

The gasp that escapes you is immediate as you see the matching sword to that dagger you had placed on his work table resting in his hand.

Ever so carefully, you reach forward, taking that sword from his grip as your eyes shine with nothing but love.

“My Kings?” You glance around at all of them, noticing how they all stare at you the exact same way you’re looking at them.

“Anything and everything your heart could ever desire, Angel,” Wooyoung whispers. “It’s yours.”

“I-“ you swallow thickly, admiring that sword now held in your hands. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, My Love,” Hongjoong smiles assuringly at you. “Know that we will always provide for you, in whatever ways that we can.”

“We love spoiling you, Baby,” San adds softly. “Knowing these are things that you’ve always wanted… well… it means a lot to us to see you happy; to make you happy.”

Your lips part, but no words escape you.

“Just let us take care of you.” Yeosang voices lowly, all seven of them nodding along to his words.

Again, you swallow the emotions building in your throat. Your grip tightens on that pommel in your hands, and you manage to blink away your building tears of joy.

“Thank you.” You take your time to meet each of their gazes. “I mean it. You all never fail to go above and beyond for me, and I will always cherish these moments, these gifts, more than you’ll ever know.”

Their smiles widen, hearts beating erratically in their chests.

“We’re just love seeing you happy, Starlight.” Mingi repeats San’s words from only moments ago, nothing but sincerity shining within all of their eyes.

“I still have one more sword to gift you, today, My Divine.” Suddenly, Seonghwa looks the slightest bit more nervous as he stands before you. “That is, if you’ll have it.”

“My Mars,” you hum, affection dripping from your gaze, “You could gift me a wooden sword, and I would cherish it until the end of time.”

Teasingly, Seonghwa’s eyes narrow as he spares a glance around the room. “Alright, who told?”

Almost instantly, Jongho starts whistling inconspicuously while San, Wooyoung, and Mingi all avoid Seonghwa’s gaze.

You giggle, and like every time before, it is music to every single one of their ears.

“It took me quite a few tries,” he begins, keeping his voice low and tone steady, “But I had to make sure it was perfect.”

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa presents you with the other sword he had been holding behind his back this whole time. He rests it carefully over his palms, holding it out to you with loving eyes as he watches your every reaction carefully.

The sheath is easily recognizable to you, the leather strap wrapped meticulously around it just as it is when the sword gets presented in the movie. The handle is every bit as gorgeous as you remember, the black leather wrapping around the pommel perfectly placed as the worked silver glints in the light.

Without taking your eyes off of that sword, you pass the one currently in your hands to the closest person beside you. Easily, Mingi takes it from you as you step in closer to Seonghwa.

You swallow your building emotions.

With shaking hands, you reach out to grasp that sword. You take one small step back before you’re unsheathing it in one fluid movement, the etchings in the metal bringing tears to your eyes.

Before you, held in your very grip, is an exact replica of Andúril.

“You made this for me?” Your voice comes out small, your overwhelming emotions threatening to choke you out at any second.

Briefly, your gaze flits from the markings on the blade to Seonghwa’s face, noting how he nods softly.

The whole time, his gaze never leaves you for a moment. Never does he want to miss even a single second of the wondrous expression you wear on your face. The fact that he can hear your heart racing says it all.

“Seonghwa, I-“ Your grip tightens around the handle of the sword, meeting his gaze once more. “When?”

He shuffles slightly from foot to foot, the others remaining silent out of respect for the moment being shared between the both of you right now.

“I started that day we got back from the mall.” His honest reply nearly sends you to your knees.

Again, your eyes trail over every inch of that sword before you. Your heart swells with nothing but love, feeling as if it’s close to bursting as you take in every minuscule detail of the blade. You can tell that he put in a tremendous amount of effort into forging this weapon for you, and given its meaning to you in its entirety, you know that he spoke true when he said that he wanted to make it perfect.

For you. 

He made this for you.

Something within your eyes flash, and you’re quick to sheathe that sword. The whole time, you never break eye contact with the male across from you, and despite the pounding of your heart that you can hear in your ears, a sense of complete calm washes over you.

“You seven,” you don’t even spare them so much as a glance of acknowledgement. “Out. Now.”

Words of protest die on Wooyoung’s lips as he gets pushed out of the room by both Jongho and Yeosang. Of course, just before the door closes, Seonghwa does not fail to miss the wink Yunho sends his way.

The sound of the door clicking shut is synonymous with the movement of Seonghwa’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You made this for me,” you begin lowly. “After hearing me say once that I have long since desired a replica of my own.”

He nods. Slowly.

“You didn’t hesitate for one moment to make this for me, did you?” Your inquiry is soft, despite the heated stare you wear.

He shakes his head.

You motion for him to come forward with your finger, backing yourself towards that wooden table as he begins stalking towards you. Not once does he break eye contact, obeying your every command without hesitation.

“Of all of the grandiose gesture you could make for me, this is the one that means the most.” You tell him honestly, your voice near breathless as you finally hit that table. Resting the sword against its side, you motion him closer. “There are no words to describe what this means to me; no gift more significant than that which you have just given.”

The moment he steps into you, your arms are around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Softly, your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck, and you notice how his suddenly hooded eyes continuously spare fleeting glances down to your lips. You smirk.

“A simple ‘thank you’ is not enough to convey what this means to me.” You whisper lowly, surprising him by flipping your positions so that he’s the one pressed against the table. “What you mean to me, Seonghwa.”

One of your hands sneaks down his torso, sending a shiver up his spine as he feels you caressing his side. Then, you pull him even closer, hoisting his thigh up so that his leg wraps around your waist.

“How about it, My King?” You hum, voice nothing but sultry as your lips barely ghost over the skin of his own. “Will you allow me to demonstrate my gratitude for you?”

“Yes,” The nod of his head is immediate as he all but whimpers out a response. “Please.”

The corner of your lips twitches faintly upwards before you’re closing the rest of the distance between your two bodies. The way you hold onto him, and he to you, is nothing short of desperate, kissing one another like you are the very air you both need to breathe.

Carefully, you help him sit on top of the table, allowing for him to fully wrap his legs around your waist. Unashamedly, his hands roam over your body, pulling you in closer as his fingers dance across your skin.

The moan he lets out as you take his bottom lip between your teeth sets your heart fluttering inside of your chest.

“You are incredible, Seonghwa,” you mumble out against the skin of his lips. “And so, unbelievably beautiful.”

He moans, legs tightening around your waist as his stomach twists pleasantly.

“Shouldn’t-“ he gasps as you begin trailing your lips over his jaw, soon moving to bite at the skin of his neck, “Shouldn’t I be telling you this.”

“Some other time,” you promise, placing a lingering kiss over his racing pulse. “Right now, I want to worship you.”

The shudder that wracks his entire body does not go unnoticed by you. The fact that you can physically feel his skin heating beneath your touch says it all.

“My Queen-“

“Shhh,” you’re quick to cut him off with a peck to his lips. “Just let me take care of you.”

You pull away only the slightest bit to stare deeply into his eyes. Silently, you check in with him, brushing against that familiar blue string in your mind to make sure that he’s okay.

“Please,” he swallows. “Don’t stop.”

The tender smile that pulls at your lips says it all.

Instantly, you move back in to continue biting and sucking at his neck, your hands sneaking up his shirt and eliciting another moan from his lips. The desperate way he clings to you has a pleasant feeling building within your core, spreading outwards and warming your entire body.

To know that he wants you, that he needs you in this moment means the world to you. 

You wouldn’t have it any any other way.

Bringing your lips back to his, you swallow all of his sounds, enjoying every small whimper and moan he gives you. The way he gasps as your one hand slides up his thigh to pull him flush against you by his ass is like music to your ears.

“My Seonghwa,” you hum, slowly grinding your hips against his own.

A choked moan of your name slips passed his lips, “Yours.”

“That’s right, My Dove,” you nip lightly at his ear, feeling how he shudders once more in your hold. “You’re mine.”

“All yours,” he whimpers, burying his face into the side of your neck.

Slowly, you bring your one hand between your two bodies, beginning to palm his semi-hard cock over his jeans. The fact that he seems to desperately grind against your hand in time with your movements makes you smirk.

“My Beautiful Dove,” you hum, adding the slightest bit more pressure to your palm as you move over his clothed cock. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?”

Softly, he shakes his head against the skin of your shoulder.

“No?” The corner of your lips tug upwards in a small grin as you pull away to meet his wide eyes. “Then, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Your lips are back on his in an instant, pulling him flush against you. Carefully, you begin to lean him back, hovering over him as you lay him down on that table. His hands cling desperately to your back, tilting his head to give you better access to his neck every time you move to bite your marks into his skin. Marks which you know he will wear proudly for as long as he can.

“My Divine,” the whimper that escapes him goes straight to your core, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

“My Beautiful Seonghwa,” you rest your forehead gently against his own. “As if you didn’t know that forging me Andúril would be considered the grandest romantic gesture you could ever make for me.”

His chest is heaving, hips desperately seeking your own. Only, you pin him to that table, retracting your hand from over his cock and eliciting the sweetest of whines from his throat.

“As if you wouldn’t have known that I would immediately have to satisfy My King as a reward for always taking such good care of His Queen.” You continue, reaching out slightly to the side to grasp a particular object in your hand. Once you feel that cool metal of the dagger against your palm, you smirk. “Since My King has shown me nothing but a loving patience and dedication to his craft, I shall show him the same.”

Again, you lean over him, pecking his lips tenderly.

“I wish to take my time savouring you right now, Seonghwa,” you tell him gently. “As long as you’ll let me.”

At the vigorous nod of his head, along with the breathless ‘yes’ that falls from his lips, you have your answer.

You smile, eyes crinkling at the sides as your heart warms.

Slowly, carefully, you bring that dagger up his body. Gently, you tug his shirt forward, the tip of the blade kissing the material. Cautiously, you hook the blade beneath the neckline of his shirt, watching him carefully for any signs of discomfort.

You find none.

The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears, the dagger getting tossed beside you on that table as you help him sit up once more. His lips are on yours as you strip Seonghwa of his now cut shirt, the planes of his chest on full display. The way he shivers beneath your touch as your hands roam down his bare chest has you smiling into the kiss.

Without wasting another moment, you part from him only to begin trailing your lips down his chest. You take your time, biting and sucking marks into his skin as your hands grip his waist firmly. The fact that Seonghwa arches into your touch, eyes fluttering as he feels your tongue come out to lave over his burning skin says it all.

Another moan of your name slips passed his lips.

“That’s it, My Dove,” you coo, sliding him the slightest bit forward, and back onto the edge of the table. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Slowly, you begin to sink to your knees, allowing your fingers to trail over his thighs as you do so.

Seonghwa’s head is spinning, and with each breath, his chest heaves. He can hardly believe that this is happening right now, his hands desperately gripping at the side of his work table for dear life. The image alone of you on top of him like that, and now, with you resting on your knees between his legs, is making his cock ache for your touch once more. He needs you, and he’s sure to tell you that.

The smirk that pulls at your lips is nothing short of devious, “Patience, My Dove. I told you that I wish to take my time with you right now.”

A small whimper escapes him.

“You’re not the only one who wants my lips wrapped around you cock right now, Seonghwa.” Your eyes flash dangerously as you look up at him through your lashes. “Be patient, and I will reward you, My King.”

Seonghwa’s breath hitches in his throat, whole body stilling as your words settle over him. He can feel his cock throbbing, becoming almost painful the longer he goes with you no longer touching him.

The second you begin to undo his belt, his thighs begin to shake.

Soothingly, you rub your hands over his upper thighs, staring up at him with wide eyes. As you meet his gaze, your hands still, finger sinking into the material of his jeans as his lips part with another moan.

“Look at you,” you hum, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “I’ve barely even done anything to you yet, and you’re ready to fall apart.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t come yet from your touches alone,” he admits lowly, voice a little rough as he clears his throat.

Your eyebrow quirks, “Oh?”

“My Divine, the feeling of your hands on me is one of the greatest sensations I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” He breathes, thighs tensing as you begin to undo the zipper of his jeans. “You already know how little self-control I seem to have around you.”

Slowly, you begin to slide the material of his jeans down his thighs as you chuckle once more. A moment later, you help him step out of them, tossing both his jeans and his boxers off to the side.

“That, I do know,” you smile knowingly. “And yet, you’re being such a good boy for me.”

His cock visibly twitches from your words, and you smirk.

“Oh?” Your brow quirks, a devious look shining behind your eyes as you look up at him. “You like it when I call you My Good Boy, don’t you.”

His grip tightens on the edges of the table, and you wonder at how the wood hasn’t cracked beneath the pressure yet.

“Yes,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments. “Fuck- I love it, My Queen.”

The giggle you let out is music to his ears.

You meet his gaze through your lashes once more, “Good boy.”

Again, his cock visibly twitches from your words. You can see how desperately he restrains himself from reaching out to you right now, his hands tense as he grips the table for dear life.

Teasingly, you trail your hands back up his thighs. Only, when you get close to his hips, you stop, dragging them back down and ensuring your nails scratch lightly over his skin.

He shudders.

The whole time you rest before him, Seonghwa keeps his gaze locked on you. Not once does he allow his eyes to fall shut, and he swears to himself that he’ll do whatever he can to engrain this memory in his mind for as long as possible. He’ll be damned if he misses even one second of you pleasing him, for you appear just as eager as he does in this moment.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Trailing your hands back up his thighs, you give them both another appreciative squeeze. Then, finally, you lean into him, bringing your lips to the skin of his inner thigh as your one hand wraps delicately around his cock.

The moment your fingers close around him, he moans. His lips remain parted, breaths coming in uneven pants as he feels you gently nipping at the skin of his inner thigh. The way your hand begins to move over him has his whole body twitching beneath your touch.

The closer your lips get to his aching cock, the harder it becomes for him to control himself. Desperately, Seonghwa clings onto whatever shreds of his sanity that he has left, taking in the beautiful sight that is you, on your knees, pleasing him right now.

Just when he thinks you’ll free him from your teasing licks and kisses on his one thigh, you move to the other, repeating the same actions over his skin almost lovingly.

At one particularly firm bite against his thigh, his stomach clenches. He can feel himself twitch in your hand, a low groan escaping him as he leans further back on the table for support.

You chuckle, looking up at him innocently from between his spread legs.

“My King?” 

He hums, almost absentmindedly.

“One more thing,” A devious gleam is shining behind your eyes. One which his blissed out state manages to ignore for the moment.

“Anything, My Queen.” He breathes out, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you lick your lips.

“Hands to yourself until I say so.”

As soon as those words escape you, your lips are around him. Gently, you suckle on the tip, tongue flicking over his slit a few times as you maintain eye contact with him.

A choked moan escapes him, his right hand automatically reaching out to you. Only, he catches himself, fingers twitching in midair right by your head. Slowly, reluctantly, he retracts his hand, gripping onto that table desperately for support.

The chuckle you let out reverberates along his cock, sending pleasant shivers up his spine and causing his stomach to clench. The way your tongue feels, beginning to swirl around his head as you take more of him into your mouth is making his head spin. Never before has Seonghwa been this hard in his life, and the fact that it’s all because of you is only adding to the intensity of the pleasure that he’s currently feeling.

Low, guttural groans escape him as he watches you sink further down on his cock. Languidly, your tongue strokes along his shaft, pleasant hums escaping you as you watch his every reaction carefully. The fact that his whole body trembles, fingers digging into the wood of the table has you chuckling lowly once more.

Slowly, you begin bobbing your head. What you can’t fit into your mouth, you use your one hand to stroke over, squeezing at his base a few times as you hollow your cheeks over him.

Seonghwa nearly collapses right then and there. As much as he tries, he cannot prevent the way his eyes flutter closed, tossing his head back as a moan of your name slips passed his lips.

“Just like that, My Divine,” he smiles, blinking his vision open once more to see the glorious sight that is you, on your knees before him, with his cock in your mouth. A low growl escapes him, eyes flashing black. “Fuck- just like that.”

Desperately, he does whatever he can to keep his hips from bucking further into your mouth. The wet heat of your mouth is overwhelming, nothing but pure pleasure coursing through his veins as he feels you suckling at the tip of his cock once more.

Pulling away from him for just a moment, you let your hand pump over his length a few times. Again, you lick your lips, gaze darting up to meet his own as you move in closer.

Another growl escapes him as he watches you suck one of his balls into your mouth. His whole body shudders as you slowly let it pop back out of your mouth only for you to begin placing wet, open mouthed kisses up along the bottom of his shaft. The way your tongue comes out to trace along the path shortly afterwards has him twitching in your hand.

“Oh, fuck-“ His breath catches in his throat, eyes bleeding black once more. “Again. Please, do that again.”

The way your lips are currently pressed against his cock lets Seonghwa feel every inch of the smile that pulls at your features. To his utmost pleasure, you’re almost instantly repeating your actions, taking even more time to caress your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing over a prominent vein.

“My Divine, please-“ he chokes out, every breath escaping him now but a mere whimper on his lips.

You spare a glance upwards and into his eyes as you tighten your hold around the base of his cock.

“I love you, My Seonghwa.”

Your lips are around him as soon as the words finish escaping you, moving over him with a newfound vigour. You barely even begin to lave your tongue over his cock when you feel him twitching within your mouth, the sound of shattering wood greeting your ears.

Whimpers and whines escape him, along with desperate cries of your name as his orgasm washes over him. His body hunches the slightest bit forward, releasing down your throat as you help to ride him through his high.

Every last drop he offers you, you swallow, humming contently around him as you lick him clean.

Your name falls like a mantra from his lips, whole body shaking as he leans against the table for support. Two chunks seem to have been torn from the wood where his hands had been gripping the table so firmly, the shattered remains littering the ground around you.

Slowly, you release him from your mouth, hearing as another guttural groan escapes him as you do so. When you spare a glance up, you notice his chest heaving, his lips parted as he stares down at you with nothing but love and pure, unfiltered awe in his gaze.

Tenderly, your hands come up to stroke over his thighs. “Good?”

“Good?” He smiles, voice deep and rough. A soft chuckle falls from his lips as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m great. Never been better, in fact.”

You giggle, standing carefully back to your feet with a little help from him. His one hand comes up to cup the side of your face, kissing you deeply as he flips your positions so that he can push you back against his worktable now.

“Seonghwa,” you giggle against his lips. “What are you doing?”

“Returning the favour,” he growls lowly, pressing you a bit firmer into the wood behind you.

Softly, your fingers begin to thread through the hair at the back of his neck. “Some other time, yeah?”

A whine of protest escapes him, pulling away from you to look into your eyes with round, pleading ones of his own.

“Later. I promise.” You bring your hands around to cup his face tenderly in your palms. “For now, let’s go get something to eat.”

The playful quirk of his brow informs you of what it is, exactly, that he intends to eat.

“Next time.” You say, a little more firmly.

He pouts, but listens nonetheless as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Come on, Mars.” You smile lovingly at him, grabbing his hand in yours after he’s finished putting on his belt. 

You lick your lips, taking the time to admire him for the nth time this day as he stands before you.

“My Divine, if you keep staring at me like that…” He lets his words trail off, but the darkness you see swirling behind his eyes says it all.

“What?” You chuckle, a playful smirk pulling at your lips. “I said I was hungry.”

[cherie-doll]

greetings

This blog will be where I dump my stories & fics.

about me: unemployed graduate with too much creativity, she/her, aro, mexican-american, intj, goth/alt, visual-kei lover, metal and kpop enjoyer, likes to play video games, writer, adores reading & literature, into anything vampire related, art & history, ex-horse crazy girl, and an oxford comma enthusiast

(im ageless to reduce the chances of ppl ik irl finding my acc again, but im not a minor dw)

fav book shelf: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders by Vítězslav Nezval, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Emma by Jane Austen, East of Eden by John Steinbeck, The Judgment by Franz Kafka

ཀlinks 🔗

୨⎯ ao3, goodreads, fable, ko-fi ⎯୧

Donations & Fundraisers

۶ৎMasterlist

‗ ❍König:

Only Rule of This World

Brain rot

Brain Rot nsfw

‗ ❍Horangi:

SFW Alphabet

Invoker!Horangi x Demon!Reader AU

‗ ❍Ghost:

Words of Violence Break the Silence

Zombie!Ghost x Reader

lol imagine ghost posing for a pic

Simon w/ Chronically ill Reader

‗ ❍Soap:

A thought

‗ ❍Alejandro:

Brain rot

Funny Brain Rot Moment

‗ ❍Rudy:

Funny Brain Rot Moment

Sweet Tooth-Rotting Friends to Lovers Fluff w/ Rudy

‗ ❍Phillip Graves:

Crave

A Shining Star Taken From The Sky

Phillip getting glasses brainrot

Hispanic Phillip Graves lol

First Kiss w/ Phillip hcs!!1 AHHH

Sweet Phillip Graves hcs

‗ ❍Keegan:

Oblivious

Oblivious #2

SFW Alphabet

Keegan x Assassin!Reader

Keegan w/ a clingy, tired Reader

Sharing Barracks w/ Keegan

Grumpy!Keegan x Pregnant Wife!Reader

Kissing Keegan Through His Mask

Keegan Having A Nightmare

First Kiss w/Keegan hcs!!1!

there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Yandere!Keegan x Reader

‗ ❍Nikto:

Arranged Marriage!Nikto x Reader

𓆩♡𓆪Headcanons:

The Orange Peel Test

Beauty Mark

When They Come Back

They Realize They’re In Love With You

Night Routine

Their Dream Life With You

Missing You While They’re Away

Them As Parents

Them As Parents #2

Hidden Affection

Miniskirt

Summer With Them

Their First Date With You

They're At Sephora Buying Your Makeup

They're At Sephora Buying Your Makeup #2

You Use The Head Massage Spider Thing On Them

They Pay For What You Want

Taking Care Of You While You're Sick

You're A Bookworm

You’ve Got Sleeping Issues

Royalty x Knight

Binge Eating

Convincing Them To Get A Pet

Would They Defend You If You Were A Witch

COD Men As Werewolves

COD Characters + Metal Band AU

That Boxing Machine Game Trend

COD Characters + Mythical/Monsters/Weirdos AU

Scaring The COD Men

That Boxing Machine Game Trend Pt. 2

You're Allergic To Pets

COD Men + Victorian Era + Vampires

When They Propose

Yandere!Cod Men x Reader

Yandere!Cod Men x Reader Pt. 2

They're Jealous

You Get A Retired Military Dog

໒꒱ྀ།Other

Who I would Kiss, Marry, Kill But Make It Interesting

Their Sun Signs

Their MBTI

All other asks that are not requests can be found under the tag #cherie's offerings & sacrifices

⤷Rules⤶

Be nice & kind while you’re visiting my blog or interacting with my posts!! i hold my writings very close to my heart and it’s taken a lot of courage for me to finally share them on the internet

If you’re not happy with something I’ve posted please lmk! I’m always open to criticism (given with the intention of improving)

I don’t have an age restriction on this blog bc I don’t rlly post nsfw stuff but warnings will be added if a post is nsfw, either way y’all monitor your consumption don’t leave blood on my hands

And lastly, this blog is a safe space for all! I post with the intention of sharing what I’ve written for others to read and temporarily distract their minds, if my posts have made you smile or giggle consider following ^^

My inbox is always open if you want to submit requests, talk about books, music, history, art or anything else!

Disclaimer: the paintings/images used in my posts are not intended to depict those who read my writing. I refrain from using physical descriptions of readers in my writing so no one feels as if I am catering only to a selected audience. The imagery is solely for aesthetic purposes, thank you.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Idk if this is a request or something but I just wanted to get it out there before I forget it. How would the batfam react to a batsis coming from the last of us universe?( the last of us is a zombie apocalypse type game.) How would they react to all of batsis PTSD from being born in a world over ran by zombie’s and learning to survive at a young age. How would they help them? How would they react if they ever were transported to there(batsis) world?

Sorry for this random ask I just wanted to get this out there before I forget about it. Anyway hope you have a great week!

SOFT YANDERE BATFAM x THE LAST OF US! READER BRAINROT

Recently had a TLOU brainrot (at this point it’s more of a heartrot with how devastating the story is eugh) so this came at a perfect timing. I’m guessing batsib (I’ll make it gn I hope you don’t mind anon) has a similar life to elle if they’re not just elle entirely.

I think Batsib would have to be close to the boys before they eventually spill their guts (aka their severe trauma out).

Like when they’re at least 60% there on the yan scale of things.

They see signs like you being hella adamant on the boys at least trying to fix their relationship with Bruce since you know the most out of everyone how it feels to lose a father figure.

You’re the closest with Jason purely because you both have baggage, and luckily you like to talk about it and sort it out.

Your whole life had been the apocalypse so going to Gotham and seeing everything in its prime fascinated you. When the Batfam first took you in due to your status as an anomaly, it took very little to impress you.

But it also took a lot to terrify you.

If we’re going full on Ellie! Reader here then them (batfam) seeing that huge bite mark on your arms, presumably after you’ve dumped info on your past and your reality, almost turned them feral.

It was that moment they decided to never let you go back.

You’re allowed to join them with their vigilante activities as long as you were under strict surveillance.

Bruce is kind of off-put by your nonchalance when it comes to beating up people to a pulp. He had to jump in and stop you from completely killing a dude.

Jason on the other hand approves. Definitely eggs you on.

The rest of the boys, as is my headcannon with any violent MC, get turned on when they see you covered in blood.

In summary, they definitely cherish you more. The spoiling is dialed up to eleven. And since you didn’t know much of the world prior to its apocalypse state, they wouldn’t lock you up like in most cases and instead bring you to explore as much as you’d like.

There is a sick part of them that enjoys your PTSD and how dependent (and distrusting of others) you can be because of it. So unless it gets really bad where you can’t get sleep at all I can see them just not trying to get help for you.

ON THE MORE WHOLESOME SIDE:

I am now imagining reader going to a museum with them all and just climbing the fossil in front of like dozens of people while screaming “LOOK AT ME I’M ON A MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURRRR!”

Bruce definitely had to pay a lot for that

and all the younger ones + Dick cause he’s Dick throwing fedora hats on all the dinos??? please im on my knees that’s too cute augh-

If they were ever transported in your world, it’d definitely be the other way around. Say you aren’t like Ellie and are completely susceptible to the infection- oof you might as well just be in jail.

They’ll disinfect everything. Masks 24/7. Generally just extremely careful as to not get infected or infect you in any shape or form.

Tim has already researched on fungal infections so you bet he’s ready. Wouldn’t be surprised if he single-handedly ends the apocalypse with how thorough he was. Him, Dick, and Alfred focus more on taking care of you.

Jason and Damian are more with survival and the annihilation of anything that may be dangerous to you within the vicinity. May it be zombies, thieves, the military and what not.

Bruce is probably tinkering on more equipment and helping Tim with actually getting rid of the fungi. The former will definitely use his charm and looks to get more supplies.

In short, these dudes have everything on lockdown.

You’ll wish you didn’t come back to your original world.

A.N. I hope this was to your liking anon!

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twelve

Poisoned Apple

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

The next few days felt like a fever dream to you, apparently the Guild’s headquarters, the Moby Dick almost crashed in Yokohama. There was still no word from or about Miss Jane which unnerving to say the least for you all. The next few weeks came and gone and life felt normal, a few members of the society returned to Europe to visit family and friends, Emma, William, Henrik, and Lewis, they would be back at the end of the month. So now that leaves you, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, Alexandre, and Gaston alone here. 

Dr. Stevenson and Alexandre were heading out for the weekend, going up to Tokyo to visit an old friend of the doctor’s, and Victor had been invited on a project to help with repairs after the Guild incident so you hardly saw him anyway. So this weekend it was just you and Gaston. You all had returned to the apartment complex now and so you now had your apartment that you shared with Miss Jane all to yourself now, but you didn’t like staying there, too lonely. So now you sat in Gaston’s lounge, he sat on a stood, playing the violin, while you read over the news, then you saw something.

“Hey Gaston.”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a look at this.” You waved him over and he set his violin down and walked over, glancing over your shoulder. “It seems that gifted are committing suicide with their abilities after a strange fog.”

Gaston’s eyes narrowed as you spoke before he reached up and closed the lid of your computer. “Best not to worry about that, stressing will give you grays.”

You set your laptop aside and gazed out the window, it was raining pretty hard. Gaston’s eyes followed yours, he then looked around the apartment and ran his finger along the bookshelf behind you, not a spec of dust. He smiles and then looked to you. “Say I have an idea. We pack a lunch, go to your father’s estate, start cleaning, find what we can on where he may be, have lunch, bring a book, like an indoor picnic.”

“That sounds pretty fun actually.” You smiled and stood up from your chair, taking his hand he offered you.

“Then let’s be off, my lady.”

—————————

You arrived at your father’s old estate at around noon. You took the key Miss Jane had left you and unlocked the door to the old building, and it was as dusty as ever. Gaston stepped in the hall after you, sipping around to take it all in. “Reminds me of Dr. Stevenson’s manor back in London.”

“I’d love to visit one day.” You replied to his comment as you went to sit over on the staircase, setting the picnic basket and blanket you had brought next to you. “But this place is probably a lot more dusty.”

“Certainly, I honestly couldn’t imagine the doctor letting dust gather on anything.” He laughed to himself and walked towards you, hands in his pockets. “Well then, shall we get started?”

“We shall.”

So you and Gaston began exploring the rooms together, one by one. You showed each other what you found, strange objects left behind from your father that might have been important on a case of his once upon a time. Books in his study were unorganized but looking at them there was no way to organize them for they were all so different. Gaston found photos of your father and uncle along with another individual names “Dr. Watson” your father’s assistant, from what the old stories about him read. You also managed to find older documents from your father that you left inclined to read, they were about his old cases that he took when he was here in Yokohama. Both of you forgot that you came to clean as soon as you walked through the door, there was just so much to look at and see.

So now, hours had passed and now you and Gaston sit on the floor of the main entry, the blanket beneath you as you opened the picnic basket and ate the meal you two had packed, sandwiches, fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, pears, and two apples.

“Strange to think he just left this all behind.” You said, pushing a berry past your lips. Gaston shrugged as he took a bite of a pear slice.

“Your father was a strange man.” 

You laughed at that comment as you picked up one of the apples and took a bite…

Footsteps… walking down the hall

Gaston looked away from you alarmed by the noise, someone was here. His hands rested on his revolver as he stood up, looking around worriedly. “Did you hear that?”

You were to occupied to worry about the question, you eyes were fixed on the bite mark of the apple you just ate from, the fresh was black… it was poisoned. Your mind tried to process if you or Gaston packed this, was it slipped into your bag? If so when? You went to call Gaston’s name but all that came up out was coughs and wheezes as you tried to gasp for breath. You fell to the floor and Gaston was quick to kneel besides you. “(Name)! (Name)!”

Your vision was hazy now and you were just able to see the poisoned apple roll out of your hand and onto a ground where a figure out of the shadows came forth and picked it up. 

Gaston’s eyes were wide with horror as he stared at the figure who held the apple, but the figure merely smiled as Gaston was finally able to speak out his name.

“Fyodor.”

Gaston’s eyes flicked between your unconscious body and Fyodor, standing over the two of you. Gaston tried shaking you awake as the Russian man stepped even closer but it didn’t work.

“Oh ангел музыки, she won’t wake up.” The Russian man spoke, kneeling down to Gaston’s level. Fyodor reached out and brushed the hair out of your face. “Not without me that is.”

Gaston raised up his revolver to rest in between Fyodor’s eyes. There was only a look of pure range on his face. “Wake her up or I will kill you.”

Fyodor’s smile only widened. “Shoot me at this distance with that old gun and you will blow your own hand off along with whatever damage would happen to her.”

Gaston didn’t lower the gun until Fyodor reached out, grabbed the barrel of the gun and lowered it himself. “So I have to play your game to wake her up, don’t I?”

Fyodor nodded and reached out for the untouched apple that was left and held it in front of Gaston to take. “It doesn’t hurt that badly if that’s what you’re worried about. All will be well when you awake.”

“Or I’ll be dead.” Gaston said grabbing the apple from him and looking it over. Gaston brought it to his lips with shaking hands, the composer’s eyes dead locked onto Fyodor’s twisted smile. With all the courage he could muster Gaston bit down on the apple, the flesh of it black like before. He was sent into a coughing fit just like you when he swallowed. He was gasping for breath as he fell into unconsciousness, his breathing heavy as Fyodor looked down at you two, wearing the same twisted smile.

—————————

You awoke with with a pounding headache and your body felt so incredibly stiff, like you had been asleep for days. Your vision was burly and it took a long moment for things to come into focus, you were laying in bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that wasn’t yours, dressed in clothes that you couldn’t see but knew aren’t yours. You tried to move but your muscles wouldn’t respond. The most you could manage was letting your turn fall to the side to see Gaston laying in an identical bed, asleep, dressed in clothes that weren’t his, and now you could also see an IV attached to your arm and one to his own. You could see a table in between the two of you, it had items and nicknacks from your pocket and Gaston’s glasses, but no weapons. When you went to open your mouth only a cough came out, your throat was like sandpaper, how long had you been out?

“Ahh мышь, you’re awake.” You heard a voice from behind you, Russian in origin. You heard a book close followed by footsteps approaching you. You felt a gentle gloved hand reach over and hold your cheek, bringing your face to face him. Before you there was a handsome man, he had black, mid length hair, dressed in white. “Do you know who I am?”

You couldn’t speak and your mind was too foggy to think but you managed to mouth the word no. He chuckled and ran his gloved thumb along your cheek. “My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky, my dear.” He watched as horror formed in your eyes at the mention of his name and his smile grew in his amusement. He leaned down so that his faces was only an inch away from your own. “I see you have heard of me, I have watched you for quite sometime and I promise you this is only the beginning of our game.”

He bent down to press his lips against your own. His lips felt rough and forceful, not kind and gentle like his touch. He reached over and pulled out the IV in your arm which made you wince in pain but he shushed, cooed, a kissed away your tears. He wrapped his arms around you and picked your limp body and carried you over to the arm chair he had been sitting in. With this new position you could see what you were wearing, a long white skirt, a black turtleneck, a white sweater, and white mary janes. He sat you down in his lap and took the book from the side table and opened it, you couldn’t read it because it was in Russian. He sat with you for what felt like hours and the only thing he said was. “Soon, it will begin.”

You didn’t know what “it” was but frankly you didn’t care, you just wanted to get Gaston and get the hell out of here. Soon you heard a groan from Gaston’s lips and your eyes shot over to the man who was coming back to consciousness. Unlike you he had at least some control of his limbs, must be all his endurance from his work with the society. He sat up in his bed his hand unconsciously searching for his glasses in the nightstand, you could now see at least the top of his outfit clearly, a white ruffled shirt, a white vest, a white jacket, white pants, but a bright red tie, it felt off for Gaston to be dressed in such things given his normal attire and personality. You heard a small hum from Fyodor as he also noticed the composer’s state. 

“Good to see you awake as well, Leroux.” Fyodor said as Gaston slipped on his glasses and ripped out his IV which made you cringe. “I see you are as alive as every.”

“I wish I was dead.” Gaston was quick to snap back as he stepped out of bed, but having to catch his balance on the footboard. He paused in his tracks and looked around. “We’re in Mukurotoride, aren’t we?”

Fyodor smiled and nodded, setting his book aside. “That would be correct, I brought you two here so you will be… safe from what is to come.”

“Safe?” You finally spoke, asking a simple question. “Safe from what?”

A low chuckle emerged from Fyodor as he looked at you with those violet eyes. “You were reading the story, gifted committing suicide, the fog…”

Then it clicked for both you and Gaston. The fog is coming to Yokohama and someone is behind this all.

Fyodor noticed the expression on your faces and hummed, brushing his fingers through your hair before standing up and helping you stand along with him. Your legs felt jello but Fyodor rested a hand on both your forearms and hip, keeping you from falling. Once you caught your balance he let go, letting you stand on your own. He walked forward, towards the door in the room and unlocked it with a key in his coat pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at Gaston and you. “Don’t try using your gifts to escape, призрак and мышь. I think you’ll find your abilities have left you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, concern coming across your face. Fyodor only smiled.

“You’ll see in due time. I’m sure my collaborators would be happy to explain when you meet them, but for now there are preparations to be made.” Fyodor said as he stepped out into the hall and you heard the click of the lock behind him.

Gaston fell onto his bed with a heavy sigh and you came and curled up next to him. “I’m sorry (Name), I have failed you. I let him get to you.”

“We didn’t expect it, Gaston. He took us by surprise.” You yawned in between words and so did he. “We’ll just have to be our own knights in shining armor, get ourselves out of here, escape the dragon.”

Gaston gave a weak smile and took off his glasses once more. “Yes, but I suppose for now we should get some more rest.”

“Agreed.”

You cuddled up next to him and just as you were slipping into sleep’s hold you heard his voice sing, beautiful, gentle, and careful…

“Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

remember me once in awhile

promise me you'll try

on that day that not so distant day when you are far away and free

if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.”

[brooklynistrying]

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓘𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

You and Seonghwa have a staring contest but you always seem to be winning.....San wants to find somewhere else for you to stay.

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

Character profiles one and two.

Character profiles three and four.

Character profiles five and six.

Character profiles seven and eight.

Character profiles nine and ten.

Character profiles eleven and twelve.

BTS

BTS

BTS

[brazilsho]

✮⋆˙ BYF // DNI -> things you should know before interacting / suggesting something on my blog !

𓍯 minors are discouraged from reading my 18+ works. it isn't my fault on what you're getting yourself into by reading these works and i'm not responsible to dictate you're reading online. -> don't try to befriend me when you are a sensitive minor or an adult (-14 / 18+). you are allowed to read my works but please don't interact with me when you're underaged or just want to interact with me to complain about my age.

my blog stays a safe place for anyone, haters will get blocked / or ignored !

⋆｡˚ PLEASE be aware that 𝓲 know what i am doing with the fact that i write and read NSFW ! i don't want anyone coming at me for being "to young" to read stuff like this , i do this since i am eleven . i don't want to interact with adults overall , i just want to read and write things i enjoy in peace !

𓍯 i don't usually make mutuals but i'm open of interacting with you guys if wanted.

𓍯 blank blogs are getting blocked, at least customize your blog so i know you're not some fucking bot !

𓍯 supporting by commenting, rebloging or / and liking my work is always appreciated !

↳ don't feel like you aren’t able to express yourself with personal tags or how you feel about my work you just read !

𓍯 bad grammar will happen in my works because i am struggling on knowing where to place the right grammar since young.

𓍯 requests are mainly always open because i get better Ideas on writing things that way but it can happen, that i wouldn't make specific ones for personal things. Ideas / thirst or prompts are always free to suggest.

hell no's when it comes to my inbox !

male! reader (sry). character x character. scat. vomit. rape / noncon. specific detailed! reader (depends on the fandom ur requesting for). raceplay. incest. humiliation. domestic abuse. omegaverse. teratophilia. necrophilia. suicidal tendencies. ageplay. basic dni topics in writing.

what i write overall !

fem! reader. gn! reader. NSFW (ONLY ON MY BACKUP BLOG) -> only heated moments here. fluff. angst. hurt / comfort. headcanon's. songfic's. oneshot's. yandere (backup blog only). altimate universe (ex. fantasy AU)

once again please be kind to me, I know being sixteen and reading and writing 18+ context isn’t what I should be doing but I grew up with these things so leave me alone, I know what I am reading and doing, if you find a problem with this gladly leave my blog.

𓍯 i also write NSFW about fictional characters that are 16+ (not always, only if ur request needs to be around that age), because in my country it's allowed to have sex at the age of 14 years so it's allowed to ask about teenage character and smut / NSFW

↳ don't like it, you can gladly leave or imagine them older for their liking ! (mentioned for backup blog !)

𓍯 i'm a slow writer and usually don't finish works in my drafts, which makes the late updates explain for now !

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𓍯 not doing a taglist, because i don't like the way it looks but if you wanna get notified about any work that i do for a specific fandom, please ask me privately.

© brazilsho ─ 2023. works i post are not allowed to be translated, stolen, copied, or reposted on other platforms.

[billyhargrovesslut]

Play-Family

Imagine: being one of the nicest teachers at school and eleven only knowing you for one day and talking about you to hopper so much he decides that you should be apart of their little family willingly or not.

[multiyandereimagines]

Hi there!i love your writing so much,it's great! <3 Could i maybe request some headcanons for eleven from st please?ty!!

sure, i’m not going to go too overboard with this since i feel a tad bit uncomfy writing children as yanderes but i hope this was at least yandere enough lol. thank you anon! ❤️

tw: yandere behavior

[Yandere Eleven x Gender Neutral Reader]

when you and your friends found eleven you knew there was something different about her. i mean not just for the crazy superpowers that she has but it’s her... love for you?

she learned what the word love means and how to say it, not thinking much of it she walks up to you and said those three scary, but heartwarming words. “i love you.”

you thought this was some sort of prank the boys pulled on you or if she really didn’t study the word through, “i... know.. what... love.. means.” she says slowly, still learning how to speak correctly. “o-okay...”

fast forward to the summer of 85’ you two started dating and to be honest you’ve never seen el so bubbly and happy before

you two went to the mall every chance you get, she always clings onto you like your gonna run away or something which you found adorable

when you couldn’t hang out with her you thought it was best to buy her a plushy of your favorite animal so that she can play with whenever she feels lonely

when i tell you she loves it YOU BEST BELIEVE SHE LOVES IT

she never lets go of it like NEVER

hopper offered to wash it for her but she declined, never wanting it out of her sight

she stared at the slightly dirty plushie, “...i love you.” she smiled

she never wants to let you or her plushie go, when she tells you she loves you she means it by 1000%

people may think it’s just a “teenager in love” type of thing but eleven feels like it’s just more than that, she actually wants to spend the rest of her life with you and she knows it’s way too soon to think that but she’s honestly convinced

honestly she didn’t even care if you don’t feel the exact same way, she IS going to spend the rest of her life with you. no matter what

even if she has to force you...

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Sweet Dreams

yandere!001/Peter/vecna x fem!reader, and steve harrington x fem!reader.

summary: you once met Peter in the lab and fell in love, unaware of his obsession with you, now vecna, he’s not stopping until he has you.

warnings: manipulation, gore, yandere themes and behavior, implications of murder, obsession, possessiveness, dark themes, and Manipulation of dreams

Reader is Steve’s age so maybe 19-20. Peter’s older than reader but still in 20’s. Idrk if that makes sense but whatever. he’s aged down so not a huge age gap:)

part 2? I’ll do it if it’s requested. or I feel like doing it. again really depends.

again another long imagine so buckle up>/3

“Honey, promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight, your mother called. “I will, Mom, You tell her.

You usually called your mother before you went to bed. It had been a routine for quite some time and your roommate, Steve, was totally different.

You were very close to him and the party, especially Eleven. Both of you were in the lab together until you escaped not so long before El.

She was like a little sister to you. And you adored her. You helped her escape as promised. And so, you two were closer than ever.

Mike, being her boyfriend, (although personally you preferred him with Will), was jealous of you slightly. You ended the call with a groan. “Overbearing Mom again? Steve teased. “You know it, You reply.”She’s worried, of course. But too worried.”

“Doesn’t she have nightmares of her own? Steve asks, crossing his arms. "This shouldn’t be any different.”

“I guess, you shrug. "They're just intense sometimes.” Steve softly smiles. "they'll go away, y/n. I think it’s ironic. Max has been having intense nightmares too.”

“Pretty strange, You murmur.”Considering the murders and how the bodies were found. Do you think she’s next?”

“What about-“

You slammed the door behind you, wanting to get to Max as soon as possible. Despite being pretty late at night, You knew she’d still be up. In fact, she was sitting outside.

Her Mom probably wasn’t home. “Max, why are you outside? You ask. “Hey Y/n, She responds. "My Mom isn’t home and I can’t go to sleep. Not with those nightmares.”

“I get it. Lack of sleep due to intense nightmares, You agree.”Anyways, If you want, you can stay with me and Steve for the night.”

She smirked jokingly.”You two a thing now?” You laugh.”Nope. Just Roomates. You know Steve is still into Nancy.”

You haven’t used your powers in a while but with telepathy you were curious on what Max was thinking. Vecna could get into her thoughts easily if she was vulnerable.

Right now, She definitely was.

Max shivered, since it was cold. “I’ll stay with you tonight, max smiled.”thanks y/n.” “Of course, You grin.”anytime.”

She hopped into your car as you tried to make it warm before driving off. Her mother probably wouldn’t mind since according to Max, She worked a lot.

And left early in the morning most of the time.

Once you got to your place, Max seemed happier in a more stable place honestly. You saw it in her eyes. She used to be in a stable home, but her brother dying changed that.

"Hey Stevie, we got a guest, You smile. He smile."Hey Max." She says hello, you go to show her the guest room. You were relieved to choose a 3-bedroom place to stay in.

“Is she sleeping now? Steve asks. You nod. “You’d be a good Mom, He compliments. “Thanks, Yoi reply.”Kids sounds ncie. But not six like you want.”

He laughs.”Wouldn’t six kids be fun though?” You shrug.”I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Steve.” “Goodnight, He replies.

The only part about his dream of the six children and camping he didn’t tell you about was that you were there. Steve liked you for a while. He loved Nancy but he felt different with you, very much in love with you.

You closed the door to your bedroom and turned the lights off. You tried not to use your powers often, usually only when you needed to.

Since you were in pajamas already, You just went to sleep quickly. Expecting dreams, You got nightmares.

It had been years since you were in the lab, so why were you back? When you quickly looked at your appearance, you knew you were in a dream.

Or just a traumatic nightmare. “You’re back, a familiar voice said. And you turn to see him. Peter. How on Earth was he back? “I know you’re scared, he adds, coming closer to you, before he faded from view.

The next thing you saw was your old neighborhood. Mike and everyone else lived nearby and you still knew you were dreaming. Also, the world wasn’t the same in your dream.

When you saw Max’s house, you saw Billy’s car, which reminded you of horrible memories. But he was dead-? Wasn’t he?

“Y/n… the voice lingered, deep and inhumane was all you knew. It wasn’t recognizable at all.

“Y/n!”

The voice belonged to Steve, who rushed over to you. But he was bloody and slightly bruised. He just hugged you.

“Steve what happened to you? You ask, worriedly. When his eyes turned white, you knew it couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be him.

“Why can’t you accept my feelings for you, y/n? I love you so much.”

“What-“

You didn’t know about his love for you so it took you by surprise. Stepping back, you got even more scared. “Steve, I didn’t know… you try to explain.

He keeps coming closer to you. “Do you love me y/n? He asks. You didn’t have a response. Then you blurt,”I do love you Steve!”

Your dream ends there but you sit up panting. That dream was no coincidence or anything. Dreams couldn’t be like that, right?

Suddenly Steve burst through the door. “Y/n, I heard screaming what happened? He asked. You sigh. "Nightmare. This time you were in it.”

“Me?”

You nodded.”But it was awkward I guess. Anyways you look like you didn’t sleep.” He groans. "I didn’t. For some reason.” "What happened? you ask worriedly.

He sighs. "I died in my nightmare. By some creepy monster thing. I know i died because when his creepy hand covered my face, i woke up."

You frowned. "It was only a nightmare. I can't lose you, Steve." He blushed."I can't lose you either, Y/n." You smile, both of you leaned in when you both stopped.

"Did you hear that? He asks you. You nodded. "Should we check? I mean, nobody else is here right-" Suddenly, you swore you were knocked out because when you woke up, You were in the upside down once more.

"Steve? You whimpered, wondering further from the bedroom. You needed to find out what was going on. "He isn't here, A familiar voice spoke.

How come you recognized the voice? Then, it hit you. The voice belonged to 001, or Vecna. Bu wouldn't his voice be deeper if he were in his true form?

"I'm not using my real form, Y/N. I don't plan on scaring you unless i need to."

001 stepped forward, his white clothing drenched in blood. You were definitely scared. "Whose blood is on your clothes? You ask, softly. 001 chuckles. "Your lover's."

My lover? You thought, before realizing he meant Steve. "No! What did you do? You yell, before being held back by vines, while he comes closer.

There, you saw his body. Steve, his eyes now lifeless while being covered in blood, his blood. You held back tears before breaking down and crying.

"Why did you kill him? You sobbed, while Peter goes on your level, lifting your chin with his finger. "So i can have you, Vecna responds. "I did this for you, everything. You're not grateful?"

You scoffed. "You murdered Steve!" Looking smug, 001 replies, "For you. For us. He said some horrible things, lustful things." You frowned. "Steve isn't like that."

001 chuckled. "Well, Y/N, he has been keeping his lust from you." You shouldn't believe him, 001 was dishonest after all. However, knowing Steve's past, You kind of did believe 001.

You mumbled, "He would never." 001 chuckled. "You're so loyal to someone who only uses you for your body, Y/n. How foolish." Boldly, You snapped, "You don't know him like I do."

Peter laughed.”And you know him better? He just wants to fuck you. Steve hasn’t changed and I did you a favor. Now you’ll be mine.”

His grip on you was so strong, What choice did you have? If you refused, He’d kill more people you loved.

You sighed.”fine. But don’t hurt my loved ones anymore.” Peter replies,”I don’t plan to.”

[trashmouthsahra]

Being the youngest person in Dream Smp Part 2

Pairings: c!Wilbur x Read (Platonic) Dream Smp x Reader (Platonic)

Pronouns: They/Them

Requested?: Yes! by my darling followers

Warnings: A lot of swearing like a lot. Mentions of killing, anger issues, mentions of betrayal, threatening people,. And signs of yandere father wilbur

Note: This is pretty cringy so beware!

Where were we?

Oh right

Schlatt and Quackity won the election

Schlatt wanted you to stay with him in 'Manburg'

But

He revoked your father and your best friend's citizenship

So you ran with them and didn't accept his 'offer'

You couldn't even remember who Schlatt was

Why would he want you to stay?

You were just a poor eleven year old stuck in a war between your loved ones.

You, Tommy and your dad Wilbur lived in Pogtopia

You noticed your dear father being slightly paranoid and crazy...?

You couldn't say anything tho

Because you weren't in the right state of mind either

Your brother Fundy betrayed you, and your dad well...

Your brother tore down the walls Wilbur made to protect you and him

To say you were angry would be a big understatement

Again remember

ANGER ISSUES GANG

aNyWaYs

Tubbo became your spy

Technoblade came!

He liked you

You reminded him of his younger self

Except the voices

You found Techno pretty pog

He trained you because your father wanted him to

Ah

Your father

Yeah...

He became very overprotective of you

It was almost scary

But he was your dad

He was your first love

Your hero

He couldn't be bad

He just wanted the best for you

Right?

"I just want the best for you my little star."

"You shouldn't be around the Americans sweetheart"

"If you ever make eye contact with Schlatt again I will lock you in Pogtopia Y/N!"

"That man is bad darling"

"You know I will never hurt you my angel"

"Schlatt...? He is nothing to you. Don't you dare say his name again little star."

Tommy was worried

You were only allowed to go out with Techno or Wilbur by your side

You looked tired

Maybe it was because of your little trainings with your dad and Techno

Tommy wanted to help you

You were like his little sibling

So

He tried to be a lot quiet when he was with you

He didn't want you to have a head ache or something

Tubbo

Tubbo...

You liked Tubbo

You were his other best friend!

But

You couldn't help but let your dad manipulate you

Now you didn't trust Tubbo

You couldn't trust anyone except your dad

Last time you trusted someone they betrayed you

TWICE

The festival came

And just like you imagined

Someone betrayed you and your father again

Technoblade killed Tubbo

You didn't say anything

You couldn't...

Like let's not forget you are a kid

An innocent little kid

Your father started talking about blowing up L'manburg

You were shocked.

It was your fucking country

You lived there, loved there, you were practically raised there.

And now

He was talking about blowing it all up

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Do not use that language with me Y/N"

"What are you gonna do? Blow up my room or something?"

"Stop talking Y/N"

"Oh for fuck's sake Techno, you can't talk after the shit you pulled at the festival. You killed Tubbo!"

"That is enough Y/N go to your room now!"

"Fuck you all!"

Wilbur was worried.

He thought he was doing the right thing

He would blow up L'manburg and would live happily ever after with his family somewhere else

You were starting to act different

Was it because of him?

Nah nah that couldn't be it

It was probably because of all the Schlatt thing.

Schlatt

His old pal

He still didn't tell you about how Schlatt left you

Because Wilbur knew you would lose it

You were already angry with him about his decisions

So he decided that he would never ever tell you about Schlatt

Will stop making stupid decisions istg-

Hem Hem

UM

Anyways

Dream helped you guys

Then he left

LIKE BITCH TF?

So your trust issues became how do you say it?

Umm your trust issues went 📈

Never trusting anyone again yayyyyyyyy

Thanks Dream 🙄

Quackity came

He said he had enough of schlatt and wanted to join Pogtopia

Pogtopians of course said yes

But you were like

NO???????????????

You bit his hand (go bestie 😍💅😜😩/j)

That's canon btw you really did bite his hand when he tried to ruffle your beautiful hair

Look, you liked Quackity

BUT

It was BEFORE the whole Schlatt thingy

And you would have gladly accepted him and other ex-manbergians

IF YOUR TRUST ISSUES WEREN'T THERE

Niki was concerned and worried

You were like her little sibling/child

She cooked you cookies and cakes and all the other things you liked

Than the others came

Your brother

Fundy

He joined you and your father

How could he? You once asked yourself

How dare he? You now asked yourself

He tore down the fucking walls of your and your dad's country

He betrayed you

He betrayed you just like everyone did.

You had enough.

You know what happened next besties?

Yeah you probably guessed it right

"HOW DARE YOU COME HERE AND ASK TO JOIN US YOU- YOU WANKER!"

"Y/N please just liste-"

"I AM GONNA KILL YOU AND EVERYONE YOU LOVED ARSE-HOLE"

"Okay Y/N that's enough." said Technoblade trying to hold you back with your father helping him.

You tried to fucking kill Fundy

You tried to kill your brother-

You really didn't know what got into you

You were just blinded by rage

Techno and Wilbur helped you calm down.

Finally the war came.

The final war.

And you all know what happened

Schlatt died from heart attack

You were pretty surprised.

Like all these things only for him to die from heart attack????

Like tf????

And

Your father did what he promised to do.

He blew up L'manberg

Your home.

Your land

Your country

He blew it all up.

Rage

Sadness

Betrayal

That's all you felt

Then something unexpected happened

Your grandfather came

and...

He killed your dad

Your father

Your role model.

Your guardian

Your first love.

He killed your hero.

Even though he blew up your country

You didn't want your dad to die.

A new emotion came quickly.

Grief

You screamed

You screamed as loud as you can

Everyone in L'manberg could hear your screams of grief

Everyone in L'manberg's heart broke once more

You were their baby

Their sibling

But this war and this country had ruined you too

Ruined you and left you only with the worst thing

Grief.

Denial

Anger

Bargaining

Depression

Acceptance

Those were the five stages of grief said Technoblade once

But they didn't know Y/N Soot.

And they weren't ready for the new you.

Ah yes the five stages of grief.

You were ready to make it six and add

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄

Tag List:

@allisterislost @ultimatedreamsimp

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Chels, how do you come up with such amazing descriptions and stories. Read the reply to yandere Billy and now I just can't get it out of my mind. Billy as Yandere is heavenly.

😌😌😌😌 it's a gift i have to take ideas and make them undeniably worse.

Dark!Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, and dark themes like manipulation and depression.

Part 1 of my Accidentally on Purpose series!

To Have and to Hold

TWO DAYS AGO:

You sniffle absentmindedly, shoving all sorts of clothes into your bag, the depression working its way through your system. Your ex-boyfriend's words rage through your head. His voice, rolling over and over until you know his words by heart. That you were too weird, too unattractive for him, that he didn't like your friends and your laugh was off-putting.

He'd made an extensive list of things he didn't like about you, and by the end of the car ride home, you were glad to have been done with it. You'd never been dumped this badly before, and definitely not by someone you really thought you'd liked.

Fortunately, a space had opened up on your sister's friend-cation to Vegas, and she'd invited you along. You weren't especially close with her, but you'd accepted anyway, knowing that a change of scenery would be good for you. Being depressed at a hotel in Vegas has got to be better than being depressed at home... right?

NINE A.M. PACIFIC STANDARD TIME:

You had a gift for waking up without a headache after a night of alcohol. Sure, your memory was foggy and there was nausea slowly rearing its unwanted head, but no headache.

Light streams in through the blinds, lighting up the room gently. You let out a broken groan of displeasure at the chilly air, your throat aching with overuse.

God, what did you do last night?

The fluffy black sheet is unfamiliar to you, but it manages to make you feel like you're just the right temperature. Maybe you could sleep for a few more hours, and the nausea would dissipate. You turn over, and mumble in confusion when you encounter a pale back. With the way your nether regions tingle, you assume you had blissed out sex with the man beside you. Unconsciously, you wiggle toward him, sliding an arm around his torso and pressing your face to his heated back. Snippets of memory come back to you- a vision of having your face pressed into the sheets while this mysterious man fucks into you. You sigh in bliss at the memory of how thorough he'd been, opening you up easily, stretching you out, bending you into several imaginative positions, the sounds of his moans as he came.

You know you'll have to leave soon, run from this stranger that helped ease your desolation for a night. But for right now, in your quasi-drunken state, you spread your hand over the smooth skin of his stomach, and let yourself drift back to sleep.

ELEVEN HOURS BEFORE:

You'd gone from shots at the pool to shots at the opulent club down the street, dancing in a happy haze with your sister and her friends.

Jenna, who you had recently met and bonded with over stories of bad breakups, grabs your hips and pulls you into her body.

"There's a smoking hot guy at the bar eating you alive with his eyes." She says into your ear.

You giggle, shaking your head and completely ignoring the statement. As if you're interested in talking to another man after what your ex had put you through. You were done. Finito.

She rolls her eyes and spins you around when she notices your refusal to check him out.

It's hard to miss him, leaning against the bar in a black shirt, with the first few buttons undone. He's holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his pants. His eyes scald you with the heat they give off when he catches you looking back.

"I know him." You say to Jenna absentmindedly.

"That's my ex's boss' boss. We've met a couple of times." You smile at him in acknowledgement, and he tilts his glass, giving you a little wave with his fingers.

"I'm gonna say hi." You say to her, and you ignore the suggestive sound she makes at you.

NOW:

When you wake up a few hours later, you find that your sleeping position has been reversed. You're on your side with his hand wrapped around you, holding you close to his naked body. You suck in a deep breath, raising your hand to cover his. Your fingertips trail over the back of his hand gently, with the intention of slipping away while he's asleep.

You freeze when you feel a small metallic band on his finger, and though you pray it's not the finger you think it is, luck is not on your side. You open your eyes slowly, looking down at the hand draped over you. Sure enough, there's a gorgeous wedding band looking right back at you.

Panic flares in your body, the horror of sleeping with someone who is already married worsens your nausea. You sit up suddenly, moving his arm off of you, not caring about waking the handsome stranger or not. You can barely even look him in the face now. You raise your hands, pressing them to your eyelids in shame, when something cold touches your forehead.

You pull your hands back in confusion, looking down at your left hand in question.

Your mouth drops open.

On the ring finger of your left hand sits a- well a ring.

A matching ring.

His ring, is thick and tungsten black, with small carvings of silver stars engraved into the metal.

Your ring, compliments his, thin and silver with black stars carved in. There are small blue sapphires dotted in, in seemingly random places.

Your heart stutters in your chest. You'd only ever showed your dream wedding rings to one person, and you couldn't imagine him telling anyone else, or in what context a topic like that would come up.

Hesitantly, you turn to look at the man beside you. He's already looking at you, with drowsy eyes and a pleased smile.

"Good morning, precious wife." Billy Russo says to you.

[after-witch]

Title: Tea Screen [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: Tea Screen [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? 

Word Count: 2240

Notes: Yandere, forced marriage, abuse

 “Is--is it acceptable, my lord?”

The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? Even if its only approval for a selection of tea.

You rock forward, just enough to peek your head past the screen keeping you from view, and glance at the selection laid out carefully in front of Scaramouche--in front of your husband. 

The word comes as smoothly to your mind as mountainous rocks, jagged and gritty and able to cut your palm open at the slightest wrong turn. It’s not something you wished upon yourself, but it was a cruel fact of your life all the same. You quickly return behind the screen, and pick up your needle with a newfound trepidation.

The tea maker hasn’t made the best choice. For the guests Scaramouche will entertain, he should have chosen something milder, sweeter, for the teas in their region--or so you’ve read--tend to be delicate, florals and fruits, occasionally sweetened with creams.

You internally correct yourself, it is you who will be doing the entertaining, playing the dutiful hostess who can pour their drinks and engage in carefully orchestrated conversations and, if the mood is right, sing or play something. You’re like a doll, you think, a mechanical doll to be wound up to play on command.

Still. The guests will surely be put off by the bitter herbal teas that have been placed in delicate blue bowls. Perhaps the tea maker was mistaken about the guests origin, or maybe they didn’t know enough about Fontaine to make an appropriate choice.

It doesn’t matter who made the original mistake. You know the person that will be blamed if the guests make any sort of comment about the taste of their tea: you. You don’t even want to think about the consequences of humiliating your husband in front of people from some distant land, especially for something as ridiculous as the sweetness of tea.

Your hand nearly trembles as you continue the last stitches on the embroidered cushion you’ve been making. But you force yourself to remain still, lest a messy stitch catch your husband’s eye. The cushions are meant as gifts, a showcase of Scaramouche’s taste, you think; or perhaps his way of showing off his ability to own something (and you are that thing) that can create such precious objects.

He claims not to give a single, solitary measure of care towards what anyone thinks, but with the way he makes you painstakingly oversee the rituals and meals and gifts and yourself when guests (business, pleasure, or otherwise) show up, you might think otherwise.

Perhaps he only does it to keep you on your toes.

“It’s fine. Just make sure that there’s enough.”

Your teeth find the edge of your lip unwittingly and you chew on them for a moment, before realizing that you’re doing it. It’s a nervous habit. One that your husband loathes, having declared it uncouth. Even though he can’t see your face from where he’s sitting, you forcibly relax your mouth, assuming the neutral expression of poise that one of the many people hired to ‘train’ you taught you early on.

Should you speak up? You haven’t been addressed, so technically you must remain silent. Scaramouche didn’t even bother to make you sit next to him for the apprentice’s arrival, instead insisting that you remain behind the screen, out of sight, finishing your tasks. 

This was a last minute occasion, all things considered; in the past, you’ve spent days on end overseeing arrangements, from the food that will be served to considering hired entertainment to approving seating arrangements. Yet tonight was something announced only the evening before, and everything felt rushed and haphazard. 

The only reason you were able to prepare the cushions as gifts was because they were a work in progress, originally intended to decorate the sitting room, before your husband graciously allowed you to use them as a starting point for your guest’s gifts.

To speak or not to speak. The stress feels like a wire, pulled taut, and you don’t know whether to take the risk to walk along it or cut it entirely and hope for the best.

The potential for punishment, however, makes it clear: You have to take the risk.

“My lord,” you say, loud enough to be heard, yet carefully keeping your tone gentle.

Your heart pounds faster, almost painfully so. You don’t dare look out to see if he’s looked at you, to see what his expression can tell you about his mood. It would be helpful to get a reading on him so you can plan your next move.

The screen being pushed back to reveal you, sitting poised, fingers dutifully stitching, is both a relief and a terror. You glance up, enough to see Scaramouche’s eyes focused intensely on you, before looking back down at the cushion resting on your lap.

“You have something to say.”

It’s not a question. And you know that you must say what’s on your mind now, having interrupted him in front of someone else. He’s annoyed, perhaps verging on anger, depending on the next words that come out of your mouth. You silently pray to whomever will listen that he won’t take it as cheekiness or worse, disobedience.

Your mind reels for how to word your thoughts to avoid displeasing him. Your words come quickly, not wanting to make him wait. 

“My lord, although the teamaker’s choice is certainly… exquisite, I wonder if perhaps your guests wouldn’t find them too bitter on their tongues.” You swallow, looking up at him now, keeping your gaze as demure as possible. “I might suggest something lighter, perhaps floral rather than herbal.”

“Might you?” His tone is dripping with condescension, even though his expression doesn’t change.

You don’t respond, instead dropping your gaze to your lap in a show of subservience. Your fingers rest on your embroidery, and not without intention--perhaps directing him to your (you won’t deny your skill) fine work, work that is sure to get him praise later on, will keep him from viewing your correction as inappropriate.

His gaze sharpens, and he turns his head back towards the apprentice, whom you can now fully see, hands wringing and face paling at the clear dislike of the selection that was approved only moments ago.

“Well?” He says, voice as sharp as his looks. “Do you not have ears? Get rid of this and tell your master to find something more suitable, or your little shop will find itself out of my good graces.”

“Yes--yes of course, right away, my lord!”

The apprentice hastily gathers up the bowls he’s brought with him and practically scurries out of the room, an action you find yourself envying, even as you relish the fact that he recognized your correct opinion on the matter.

You don’t allow yourself the gloating, triumphant smile that wishes to show itself on your face; it would be too unbecoming for a lady. Or so he tells you. Instead you incline your head towards him, such a well-practiced gesture that you could do it in your sleep. A well-practiced, frustrating gesture; as if you have to thank him for listening to you, when you’re the one that has to study all of these awful, mundane details about different lands and people and customs and rules and etiquettes, cramming in your head day and night.

Everything about your life is well-practiced and trained. From the way you talk to what you wear to how you respond when he comes to you at night.

It’s this endless training, self-inflicted and otherwise, that allows you to keep yourself still when he sits down next to you. Close enough that he barely needs to move his arm when he rests his hand over yours, turning your palm over and taking the needle from your fingers, setting it down on the dish filled with embroidery tools that you’d set on the floor.

“What are you embroidering?”

You don’t know if the surprise registers on your face, but it’s there--surprise, that he hasn’t reprimanded you for speaking out of turn. You allow the tightness in your chest to lessen, to deflate; apparently, ensuring his guests deem him an elegant host is more important than speaking out of turn.

You incline the cushion with your other hand, ever so slightly, to show him the work.

“An azure crane. The last stitches of him, at least.” It’s fine work, and you’re almost a bit disappointed that they will have to be given away as gifts; you might have liked to see them now and then, especially with the shimmering white thread you’d been gifted for the work. Even if you preferred the beauty and solitude of the gardens to the sitting room, which you were rarely able to visit on your own.

He brushes his finger along the cushion, feeling the slight bumps of the delicately embroidered thread.

“Excellent work,” he murmurs.

“I’m glad it pleases you, my lord,” you say, allowing yourself a modest smile. You won’t deny that it’s nice to be praised, it’s nice to feel that he approves of you. If only because approval means you won’t have to deal with being punished for some transgression or another.

Suddenly, he takes the cushion from your hands, and sets it down beside you. He places himself in its stead, pivoting on his knees until he’s in front of you, inches away, close enough that you’re not quite surprised at his next moves.

His hand cups your chin, tilting your head up until you’re looking at him. His grip is gentle, for once, and you wonder if perhaps you’ll have to deal with an impromptu liaison eating up precious planning time before tonight.

He leans in, so close that his breath comes out in slight tufts against your cheek, and you are prepared to close your eyes, when he speaks.

“How did you know what tea was on the table?”

Your stomach tightens, sudden and leaden.

“I--”

The gentle grip on your chin turns hard, and you feel as if his fingertips will leave bruises in their wake. You wish you had closed your eyes, for the coldness has seeped back into his gaze, promising terrible things to come.

“Didn’t I tell you to remain out of sight? To remain behind the screen? Were my instructions so difficult that you unable to comprehend them?”

You want to push him away. You want to scratch at him. You want to tell him where he can shove his screen and his rules and his self.

But you can’t. You know what happens when you do those things. Something worse than what he will undoubtedly do to you now.

“Yes, that is--I understood you,” you say finally, rapidly, voice soft and searching. “But I was only trying to help--”

He cuffs your ear, short and sharp, hard enough to sting--but it’s the humiliation crawling in your stomach that hurts the most.

“Don’t argue with me. How ridiculous. Obey my instructions from now on, and spare me this wasted time.”

He rises, leaving you kneeling underneath him. The imbalance is not lost on you.

“You were right, though. The teamaker is a moron. For that, I’ll suspend your punishment until after our guests leave.” He resumes his place in the center of the room, waiting for the rest of the merchants and servants to get his approval for the arrangements for tonight. He’s in full view now, having not replaced the screen.

He glances back at you, expressing bursting with condescension. “Well? Aren’t you going to thank me for my mercy?”

As if he knows the word. Your mind flashes to the low stool in his bedroom, where you know you’ll be bent over tonight, stomach digging into the wood as he strikes you again and again. It’s his right as your husband, he’d told you the first time he did it. And afterward, any time he deems you an unruly wife in need of correction.

You pick up the cushion, the shimmering threads of the azure crane no longer holding their allure, and resume your embroidery in a mechanical fashion.

“Thank you, my lord, for your mercy.” Your voice is low and demure and you hope it might mean a feel less strokes of the cane tonight.

Your mind can’t focus on the fear of your punishment for long. There’s too much to do, too much to remember, too much to finish. The thin embroidery needle weaves in and out, up and down, faster than you’d normally do; the sharp point catches the pad of your finger. Blood drips too swiftly, and a drop lands on the crane’s wing before you can fully pull away. You’ll have to rework the wing--a shame, a frustration, given all you have to do today.

But for the moment, you leave it, and admire the red splotch spreading out across the bird. You’ll leave it for as long as possible before covering it up with a layer of thread; there’s some edging to finish, anyway, decorative flowers and vines to complete the piece.

And later on, the guests will be none the wiser to the ruby-colored stain hidden by the shimmering white thread, a beautiful bird stained by something dark and red hidden underneath.