#yippee your way through the pain Tumblr posts

[skyuvu123]

Mememememememep

Plushy Solar

Accidentally made it a transparent PNG but oh well-

[they-all-need-help-lmao]

A

I ddon't post here a lot

But have TTRODB Eclipse 👍

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: annnd we've made it to velaris ! yippee !! now it's time for all the introductions >:D i hope you enjoy pls let me know what you think angels <3 ok mwah bye

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

CHAPTER EIGHT :: STRANGERS (AGAIN)

The air all around you is sickly sweet.

Maybe... sweet is the wrong word. The air is clean; perfumed with an allure of scents you've never smelt before, heady and swirling, sweet and sterile all in one.

But more importantly, it is utterly foreign.

You're in unknown territory. Age old instinct has you shifting the moment you wake, surging up in a rush before your memory can catch up and remind you why that's an terribly bad idea.

The sheets rustle as you push yourself up into a sitting position, a heavy dose of panic already poisoning your system. It doesn't take long for the pain to follow.

You falter in your movement as an aching agony ricochets through your body, forcing out a wince. Your eyes screw up in pain. Your entire body feels like a bruise, punishing you with every movement.

You allow yourself only a moment of pause before you force them back open to take on the new threat, every sense filtering in unknown information as they sluggishly come to life. You have to blink rapidly to clear your vision, light coming in from all angles.

Why does it feel as though you've been asleep for years?

Where are you?

A room. You're not outside which is where you memory places you last. The extent of the memory drifts back as you search the room, your eyes climbing the walls, ravenous for details. They're made of some kind of warm coloured stone that covers the whole ceiling, you realise, as you follow the line of it up.

You screw your eyes up again and blink hard when you open them again. Every sense keeps pinging for your attention, a thousand things unfamiliar. The bed beneath is too soft, the sound of the wind outside isn't a whistle, the clothes on your back...

You startle, stumbling off the bed you've awoken on as you peer down at yourself, eyes moving about wildly. You're wearing... something completely new.

Frowning down at your arm, you raise one of your hands and pinch at the new fabric that covers the expanse of your arms. It's soft. So soft.

You tentatively smooth your hands down the tunic you're clothed in, all the way down to your pants. Each thing is finely made, with details far smaller that you would ever consider, and soft. Warm but sturdy.

What the fuck? Your chest starts to heave as panic truly sets in, your breath just out of reach before you can catch it. You gasp, grasping at your chest tightly, the new clothes scrunching up beneath your fingers. Memories begin to trickle back in as your mind scours for any information about how you ended up here.

You had been... cold. It was raining.

And your wings had been—your wings—your brain trips over the thoughts as every detail bleeds back in, sudden and frightening.

Stakes driven through the flesh of them, your wings pulled taut, stretched out for lashings and prepped for removal. Your terror climbs, its cloying grip tightening around your sternum like a fist.

Eyes screwed closed, you pray to every deity you can imagine, begging the Mother for this one thing.

You twitch the familiar muscle and feel the weight of your wings as they respond. There's no describing the relief that bursts within you, overwhelming your panic in an instant, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. They're still moving, still stretching out as you command them, still yours.

You stand there and peer over your shoulder, stretching your wings out as far as you can—cringing when they stop before full extension, buckling and bunching up at the violent spike of pain that ripples through them. It echoes through your body, making you hunch forward and grit your teeth. Your left eardrum wails extra loud.

What had happened? What had changed?

You could recall the finality of being down on your knees in the pouring rain, your hands are bound as your fate. Endless agony. The secret you couldn't keep, despite all you had tried.

You had been resigned to it—to dying there amongst in the dirt from where you had come from.

So, what changed?

Behind you, there's an abrupt noise from behind a door in the room, a rustling that makes your head snap around to face it.

Someone’s coming.

You stumble back a couple steps, dread mounting in your chest and your panic returns in full-force. You don't know where you are, you don't know how you got here, you don't know who is coming through that door.

You know that you have a lot more foes than you do friends.

Eyes darting around the room frantically, you spot a balcony down a small hallway and don't waste a single second.

As you begin to stride, you realise faintly that you're without shoes, feet bare on the cool marble floor. It turns to carpet beneath you as your fast strides transforms to a run, hearing the door open somewhere behind you.

It feels like a trap. Not the nice clothes or the fancy room would be enough to fool you. You're caught in a sickly sweet trap of honey and the net is being reined in, the ropes closing up on every side of you. It feels like you're being chased.

Heart in your throat and pulse rabbiting wildly, you burst through the doors of the balcony, daring a glance behind you without thought—

—and you nearly plunge off the edge of a mountain.

The gasp that escapes your throat is entirely involuntary, your fingers gripping the edge of the stone railing the adorns the balcony.

Your balance tips momentarily, the momentum of your dash nearly pulling you over. Terror freezes you. You're fairly certain with the state of your wings, it would be a short flight and an almost guaranteed casualty.

But a wind blows gently against your face, as though helping push you back to safety.

When you're sure you're not going to topple over the edge, some of your crippling panic eases. Your breaths, short and fast, begin to slow.

Your eyes travel up from the daunting height of the mountain side and widen, all the air in your lungs stolen in pure surprise.

Because before you, stretching out across the land that meets the sea, is something you've never seen before.

It's... a city.

A city that sits amongst the rolling, steep hills of the terrain and curls around a meandering river that leads out to the ocean. Tall, jagged mountains surround it from all sides, their hills steep up the top until they give way to gentler slopes, eventually becoming paved roads and streets for magnificent buildings.

The structures gleam, even from afar, made with precision and beauty in mind. Some are white marble or warm sandstone, others the same red stone of the mountains beside the one you're standing on. Small, quaint houses with green copper roofs, their white chimneys smoking softly.

Your breath stutters out in an exhale and you don't dare blink.

A city—a sprawling, wondrous city that was bursting with people, with colour, with life. So utterly unlike the chilled gray-scale of the Illyrian Mountains.

In fact, you wonder briefly if this was even the Night Court at all. This— this incredible sight felt like something you'd imagined of Summer or Spring, imbued with warmth, a place where things could grow and thrive.

The Night Court was... foul. It was the biting frigid cold of the wintry mountains or the shudder-inducing darkness of the court that lay beneath the mountain. This... where is this?

As though you've spoken your thoughts aloud, a voice answers from behind you.

"Velaris."

You start, whipping around fast enough to reawaken all your wounds, forcing you to stifle a pained noise that leaps up your throat. Your heart thunders as your eyes lay upon an unfamiliar figure, stepping out from the empty hallway—a form cut from the very night itself.

Your hands grip the stone railing behind you and you're unsure whether it's to keep your knees from buckling in fear or from bolting off the edge, into uncertain skies.

He's unfamiliar to you, yes, but you have a feeling you know exactly who he is.

"You asked where this—" The male waves a casual hand to the city beyond the balcony before pocketing it, either unaware of your panic or uncaring. "—is. You're in Velaris."

He surveys you, his violet eyes glancing down at the strained way you clutch at the railing.

"I know you must have a thousand questions. We haven't been introduced. My name is Rhysand and I am—"

"I know who you are." You interrupt. There's a lilt of fear in your voice but you couldn't keep it out even if you tried. He's the fucking Highlord of the Night Court.

Which means—Azriel.

His name slams into you like a shooting star, glowing hotly and dripping through your ribcage with a fire warmer than you've ever known.

Azriel must be— he was the one- he's the reason you're still alive. It feels like you relive the relief of his appearance during the storm all over again, remembering that he came back for you.

You have no idea the cacophony of emotion you're giving off, shouting all your unguarded thoughts across the balcony.

Rhysand's cool expression doesn't falter at your disruption. He looks at ease, both hands in his pockets, like he's merely having a conversation with a friend.

"Then it's important for you to know," He continues. "that I mean you no harm."

Lying, lying, liar, LIAR—the thought festers from within you instinctively, only growing in its urgency. You and everyone else where you come from are well aware of the origins of your Highlord.

And while he's your ruler, he's first and foremost, an Illyrian male.

"Only half," Rhysand corrects.

You startle, sickly surprise at the fact he seems to be able to read your very thoughts.

Then he confirms it, by saying, "And I can."

"You can read my thoughts?" You echo, voice sounding so much meeker than you intend. You sound like a child—and you feel like one, feel like the same eight-year-old staring down at the scorched brown earth in Exordor. Old blood. The same dirt you had been forced to kneel upon that now makes you shudder at the fresh memory.

Rhysand's expression falters momentarily at your train of thought, a flash of hurt on his handsome face.

His eyebrows draw together, forming a sympathetic, troubled look. "I can teach you how to shield them, if you so wish."

You don't make a noise. You don't even dare to take a breath, your fingers still crushed around the railing.

Within you, some part of you knows what he's offering. What the very nature of his words implies. He voices it anyway.

"You're no prisoner here. You're free to—”

"Where's Azriel?" The question falls from your lips before you can even think to stop it. Fear hammers through your chest—Fae that make a habit of interrupting Highlord's often find their lives cut short.

But Rhysand gives no impression that he minds. All he does is step to the side, revealing the empty hallway out to the balcony.

Except it's not empty anymore.

There, standing back to hide in the shadows as he did best, is your Shadowsinger.

Reserved and holding back, clearly waiting for you to remember him, to make your call before he made himself known. Making sure you wanted to see him at all.

Azriel, all 6ft something of shadow and muscle, with his wings tucked politely behind him, takes one step out on to the balcony and towards you.

His hands stay at his sides and his hazel eyes watch you with a familiar intensity. Something deep within you unfurls at the sight of him.

It feels like the collision of a thousand stars rain down on you, their jagged, burning fragments pelting into your body.

It's as though the world had been falling out from underneath and then, seeing him before you—when Cauldron knows how long ago you had been resolutely convinced you were never ever going to see him again— suddenly your feet were grounded and the world was still.

You breathe out his name. Azriel sways forward, almost imperceptibly, as though the sound of his name on your lips was a siren call he was helpless to fight.

You don't know that you say it sweeter than he's ever heard it in all his centuries.

Like following an invisible tug, you don't even realise when you start moving, only that you're rushing towards him with an urgency you can't begin to comprehend. It's like he's calling to you and you can't bear to be this close to him and not press in closer.

His beautiful face, usually guarded, reveals a glimpse into his storm of emotions. Concern, care, and something that looks suspiciously like... longing.

Your brain catches up and your feet falter, bringing you to a stand still before him, chest heaving.

Reason starts to catch up to you, asking meanly about what exactly you meant to do, running up to him—you weren't raised with physical touch beyond violence. You and Azriel had barely touched beyond sparring and those quiet nights in your shelter, skin brushing as you passed something to the other.

In the end, it's not you that moves, it's Azriel.

He closes the distance between you with one single step and his strong arms sweep around your middle, pulling you into the tightest hug. Night-chilled mist and cedar swirl your senses.

Helpless to do anything else, with no desire to do anything but this, you melt.

Your weight slumps into Azriel and he takes it without question, your arms curling around his neck to hold him back just as tightly. The light around you shifts, his shadows frenzied as they kiss along your neck and arms, all checking for hurt they can ease. Your heart is torn between soaring and stopping altogether.

The world fades away as his head ducks down, pressing his face the crook of your neck. It's more touch than you've ever known. More safety, more kindness than you've ever dreamed of. You and Azriel seem to exist only in a cocoon of shadow and warmth, in each others arms.

"You're alright," Azriel murmurs, his breath against your neck. It sounds more like he's reassuring himself than telling you. He sounds devastatingly sincere when he says, "I'm so fucking glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you," You whisper back, not wanting to break the silence. "You—"

The words get caught in your throat and you know you need to see his face when you say this. Pulling back from the embrace, you clear your throat as Azriel straightens up. You miss the heat of his body almost instantly.

"I-I thought I was never going to see you again."

It looks as though your words pain Azriel, a flash of pain and shame crossing his expression. His voice, low and gravelly, holds a guilty tone you've never heard him use before.

"I never should have left."

You blink. That wasn't what you had expected him to say in the least. It was you who had lied, who had deceived him from the very beginning. He was— he had— this was what you got for letting anyone get close to you, you understood that.

You shake your head, pointedly ignoring how it makes your injuries throb. "I know why you did, Azriel. I can't imagine—"

Azriel's scarred hands clench into fists at his sides, anguish colouring his face.

"No." He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing."

"Then why did you leave?" Your questions comes out with an edge this time, a biting fury as your emotions process what he's saying.

He says you did nothing wrong. He says he shouldn't have left you behind. It's a ugly mixture of hurt and anger that paints your insides as realisations churn to the surface.

Azriel steals a glance to the side, serving as a quick reminder that there was, indeed, someone else still out on the balcony with you. You glimpse at the Highlord as your anger begins to bubble but you can't bring yourself to care.

You had... trusted him— you had let him in, let him get closer to you than anyone ever had, and he had left. He left, he left, he left. He did exactly as you had feared and he was wrong for it.

The greatest secret of your life, exposed like a raw nerve, and he hadn't said a word as he deserted you.

Your heart warbles at the betrayal and you can't help but step back, putting distance between the two of you. It's such a far cry from the nearness of a moment ago.

And even though you know he wasn't responsible for the events that followed, in the haze of your upset, it's awfully easy to add it to his betrayal. As if in response, your wings flinch and shudder as a wave of agony passes through them. You wince, gritting your teeth and turning your gaze to the ground.

"I can leave to give you both some privacy," Rhysand cuts into the conversation, evidently answering Azriel's pointed glance in his direction. "However, I don't think it will be overtly helpful. She's shouting every thought so loudly, I think I'll be able to hear it from the other side of the house."

She. It's been so many years since anyone has used that in reference to you that it nearly winds you, your entire body giving a visible flinch.

It feels foreign. You can't quite tell how you feel about it; whether it's some lost part of yourself to reclaim or whether it's something you've outgrown altogether.

You don't get time to consider it further as, bustling as she walks, a fourth Fae steps out onto the balcony. She's an older female in appearance but certainly not in her sprightliness. Her eyes land on you and they lighten up, as though you're the one she's been searching for.

"You are supposed to be resting." She tsks, without much further explanation. Your heart sinks, already feeling as though you're in trouble. Rhysand, reading your abrupt switch from anger, jumps in to explain.

"Madja, here-" He gestures to the female with a polite smile- "is our resident healer. She's been taking care of you over these last couple days, helping to heal your wings."

A severe reminder of the sorry state that had been in not too long ago. Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes glaze over as they take in the dozens of scattered markings that litter your wings. Irreversible. Your glorious love, changed forever.

There's patches over the ends that you hadn't noticed before, covering where you know the stakes had been. You suddenly feel an immense rush of gratitude towards the stranger before you.

"Thank you," You say, your throat thick. You want to say it again, want to repeat it over and over til your lungs bleed because just once doesn't seem enough.

But Madja nods in a grave way, as though she knows your internal turmoil.

"You weren't supposed to be up and moving quite so soon," She says, this time with less disapproval in her voice.

She directs a more withering look towards Rhysand and Azriel, enough to surprise you. Perhaps, healers held a higher rank within the city than they did in the mountains? The whole scene looks like a mother scolding her naughty children, especially with how both males shrink beneath her glare.

"Anyhow, come now," She turns back to you and gives a gentle wave of her weathered hand, ushering you back inside. "You'll need at least a days rest before you should be back on your feet."

You amble in her direction, too fearful to glance back at the Highlord and too conflicted to turn back to Azriel. You had broken his trust with your deceit but... he had broken your trust back.

He had abandoned you when you needed him most. But he had also turned up during your darkest hour and saved your life.

You weren't sure what you wanted to do more; hug him once more or throw a shoe at his head. Probably both would make you feel better.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint chuckle of amusement.

—

When it's just the two of them on the balcony, Rhys turns to Azriel, ignoring his brother's unsubtle sullen demeanor.

"So," He grins. "Mates, then?"

Azriel casts a glance across the balcony, still rigid and unmoving from his spot. His shadows perk up at the word but Azriel gives no reaction beyond a twitch in his jaw muscle. Debating whether to respond at all.

Finally, he mutters, "How could you tell?"

Rhys tilts his head back, chuckling quietly, his mind cast back to an old, fond memory. His violet eyes slice back to his Azriel and he gives a little shrug. "A hunch, really. I think I might have enough to start a theory actually."

He wanders over and nudges Azriel with his shoulder, breaking him from his frozen spot and nodding for them to both head indoors. Rather reluctantly, the Shadowsinger falls into step. Side by side, Rhys gives him only a moment of quiet to stew in before he pipes up once more.

"Say— how much do you remember Cassian and Nesta's first meeting? Any flying projectiles?"

tags below!

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@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

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@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

[starlitiris]

“Imperfect Hatred” ~ (Sebastian x Reader)

Summary: A little while after you pass Sebastian’s shop, you mysteriously run into him again. And just in time, by the looks of it.

Notes: The prompt for this chapter was suggested by LukeySkywookie in the comments on the last chapter on ao3!

If it ends up being a terrible then I blame the fact that I worked a 9 1/2 hour shift yesterday. Yippee!!!! A little heads up, you might be out of character if you hate squiddles and not-so-imaginary friend

Also the title was inspired by Ultrakill i LOVE REFERENCING THINGS WITH CHAPTER TITLES please enjoy my goofy ass writing <3

ALSO NOT TO MAKE THE NOTES TOO LONG BUT I PROMISE I’M WORKING ON MORE PAINTER x Y/N JUST HANG IN THERE COMPUTER KISSERS I GOT U

~ 🦈 ~

Sebastian was just out scavenging for data and supplies when he stumbled upon you by pure, unfortunate coincidence. He didn’t think the navi-path would lead you in this direction, but alas, here you are. Lovely. Just when he was finally enjoying some alone time.

He watches you search through all the drawers and shelves in the room. You shove whatever you can find into the bag given to you by Urbanshade with the intention of collecting assets. A smile paints your face when you find an orange vile alongside a stack of files and USBs.

How pointless. You’re just going to die soon, anyway. Don’t you get that by now? Any kroner you’ll get from having that crap on you is completely useless. It does nothing for you. You can buy all the supplies and ferry coins you want with that stuff, but you’re still going to die. You always do. Why bother picking things up after you pass his shop? Are you really that stupid? He’ll never understand you.

As much as you frustrate him, he finds your ignorance and determination… amusing. If he were in your position, he would’ve given up a long time ago. But here you are. Nearing your 50th death, and still aiming for that crystal with a stronger will than what you started with. He cannot fathom why.

You had no idea he was watching you. The only way you would know he was there is if he wanted you to know. Large as he may be, he’s gotten very good at sneaking around undetected since the lockdown started. He’s a lot more quiet than you would think.

Whilst pondering your infuriating inability to simply give up, he decides it wouldn’t hurt to stick around for a bit. Just to see how you get on. And to collect anything you might have missed while making your way through the blacksite.

When you enter the next room, he follows not too far behind. He watches you check for dangers, collect assets, and move on to the next room. He keeps stalking you, watching you repeat this process every time you open a new door. This was all routine for you – something you were now able to do without giving it much thought. Aren’t you miserable, doing this day in and day out? You really are a pain in the ass.

You could feel his eyes on you. An uneasy feeling of being watched that you couldn’t shake crept up your spine.

This experience wasn’t new to you by any means. Something was almost always watching you, if Urbanshade wasn’t. Cameras were littered all over this wretched place. But this time, something just felt… different. And you couldn’t for the life of you explain why.

You had gotten used to the feeling of being watched by now, but the unfamiliarity that you couldn’t quite place your finger on unsettled you. It had you looking over your shoulder more frequently than you usually would.

Sebastian took notice of this. Not that it bothered him, though. You wouldn’t be able to find him. He knew that. It did mean he would have to be more careful to stay hidden, however. He didn’t want you to know who your new stalker was.

You kept trying to ignore the feeling, forcing yourself to stop looking over your shoulder after some time. It was just making you feel more paranoid. Whatever was watching you, if anything, definitely wasn’t going to show itself if it hadn’t by now. You just hoped it wouldn’t be what ended your run.

Soon enough, you found a temporary distraction from that paranoid feeling. A little red remote, hidden away in a small locker. A soft gasp leaves you, and you pick it up.

“Imaginary Friend!” You smile, handling the little toy with care. You’re about to press the button on it, but you stop before you can push down on the soft silicone. You frown. “Aww… I probably shouldn’t. I’m sorry my beautiful angel princess, but I don’t want you whispering about things crawling in my skin while I’m already feeling really paranoid. Sorry…” You gently place the remote back where you found it.

Wait.

Pause.

You actually like that thing?? What the hell is wrong with you?

Sebastian grimaces as you walk away from the locker, genuinely looking sad and guilty- what the hell is wrong with you??? That thing is FREAKY and WEIRD, and you’re apologizing to it when it probably can’t even hear you?? What on earth do you have to be sad about?? It probably doesn’t care, and likely doesn’t even know you found the remote!

You sigh a big, sad sigh and look for the next door to open. You are fucking strange. Sebastian shakes his head at you. What a moron.

A few rooms later, you find yourself in a large area with all the lights out.

“Great,” you mutter bitterly and pull out your flashlight. You traverse carefully through the open area, making sure you don’t trip or bump into anything. You groan, loud and annoyed when you reach the door to the next room and find that it needs a keycard. Wonderful. Splendid. Time to backtrack.

Sebastian stifles a chuckle. Your poor idiot.

After searching around for almost 5 minutes and wasting nearly all of what remaining battery power you had in your flashlight, you finally hear that satisfying buzzing sound that emits from the keycards for some reason. You sigh in relief and turn off your light, hoping you can find it on sound alone.

You follow the buzz, inching closer and closer until you reach a wide cabinet with a single thin drawer right beneath the top of the furniture. You eagerly open the drawer and scan the interior for that stupid piece of plastic. You’re barely able to spot it in the darkness, but you see it on the far right end of the drawer. You move in to grab it, but stop when a loud hissing starts right in your ear. You look up and are met with one of many familiar glowing white faces, inches away from yours. You jolt and stumble away from it as soon as you process that you were toe-to-toe with a squiddle.

“Dammit!” You look at the keycard after the squiddle calms down, then look back to where you saw its face. It is standing directly in front of the keycard. “Why can’t you just move??”

Sebastian had to cover his mouth so he didn’t snort out loud at your persisting misfortune. He’d like to see you get out of this unharmed.

This has happened to you once before. You know if you're quick, you can just grab it and go. You can do this. It won’t be fun, but you can do it.

You take a deep breath to brace yourself, then quickly move forward and slap around the inside of the drawer to find the keycard again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” You repeat as the hissing starts up again, getting louder with each passing second. After desperately failing to pick up the piece of plastic way too many times, you’re able to pick it up and throw yourself back just in time before the squiddle attacks you. You let out a big, exasperated breath.

“Fuck!” You look at the squiddle again once you’ve recollected yourself. “Sorry, buddy… didn't mean to invade your personal space like that.”

… What.

Did you…

Did you just apologize? To the squiddle?

The Not-So-Imaginary Friend is one thing, but the squiddles? Those are actual threats. They can, and have, killed you. More than once. You have their full document to attest to that. Hell, it could’ve been this specific squiddle that caused one of your past deaths. But you are honestly, sincerely apologizing to it for ‘invading it’s personal space’? You have GOT to be braindead or something.

You unlock the next door.

Sebastian is baffled. Baffled, and quite frankly, very angry with you. There is no room for kindness down here. Nobody wants to be your friend, nobody wants to see you succeed, and nobody wants your goddamn apology. All this place has ever known is misery and hostility. Everything is out to get you. You have over 40 deaths at this point to prove that you aren’t naive to that.

This place has tortured you. Not once has it ever shown you a fraction of the kindness he’s just witnessed you showing it. Since the first time you arrived on that submarine, you have been burned, drowned, electrocuted, beaten, consumed, crushed, mutilated, drained of life, and shot dead more times than you could count.

Even Sebastian himself has killed you once before. Given you might have deserved it – even though he was egging you on as well that day – but even after that, you still try to be nice to him when you have it in you to be. You’re polite to him. You never try to touch or climb him like he’s some animal at a petting zoo. The run he killed you on was the only time you ever flashed him with the flash beacon. On most of your runs, you buy shit you don’t even need if you have the data for it. He knows you only do this to give him more research. He doesn’t understand why, but he knows you do it. Nobody needs a lantern and a normal flashlight when they already have a hand crank one.

You are kind. You’re kind, determined, gentle, considerate, funny… a breath of fresh air. He desperately wants to understand how somebody like you can exist in a world so cruel and unforgiving.

He can almost admit that he’s fond of you. Almost. Maybe he would be able to if you didn’t make him so angry.

It’s every man for himself down here. Why don’t you get that?

Why waste your time caring about anybody but yourself?

You won’t survive like this.

You haven't been surviving.

If there’s any chance at all that you could get that crystal and leave with it, he’s certain you won’t be able to do it if you keep going on the way you have been.

It doesn’t do you any good. He would know better than anyone.

Nobody is on your side.

The next couple of rooms are uneventful. The lights were all out, so you didn’t have to worry about anglers or Pandemonium. You had put a new battery in your flashlight at this point so you could see where the hell you were going. You were back into your rhythm. Look for dangers, check drawers, find the next door, repeat. Like it’s second nature to you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you enter a room with the lights on. You turn off your flashlight, and proceed with your routine.

A gross, wet sound assaults Sebastian’s ears – or lack thereof. Looking in the direction of the sound, he spots exactly what he expected to see.

A wall dweller. Gross.

He looks back toward you to see if you heard it as well, only to find you still opening drawers for loose assets. Apparently you hadn’t, then.

Sebastian watches the wall dweller slowly creep up behind you while you’re none the wiser.

He stares. Intently.

You’ll hear its footsteps any second now, surely.

Surely.

… Why are you still checking drawers.

Sebastian squints. The wall dweller is nearly on your heels- are you not paying attention?? Where is your head?!

A wave of panic washes over Sebastian as the wall dweller is right on your tail, reeling back with an open mouth to kick you down and take a good chunk out of your neck.

You’re looking through yet another drawer.

The wall dweller lifts its leg.

It braces itself to kick the back of your knee, and-

KRRKNCH!

The loud sound startles you, and you whip around immediately to see what it was.

Sebastian was behind you, snarling over… what you think used to be a wall dweller. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You stare, shocked.

He makes eye contact with you.

He looks panicked for a brief, fleeting, almost unnoticeable moment before he stands up straight to recollect himself. He wipes the wall dweller remains on his hands off on his jacket, cringing in disgust at the carnage he caused.

“Why don’t you pay attention next time? Considering what I almost just had to witness, I’m shocked you even made it this far,” he snaps, ignoring how befuddled you are to be seeing him outside of his shop.

“You.. when the hell did you get here?!” You question, rightfully confused.

“I was just passing through. And by the looks of it, you’re lucky I was,” he mockingly grins.

“Really? Just passing through?” Something in you doesn’t want to believe him.

“Yyyup.”

“I’ve never seen you outside of your shop before,” you state, your tone indicating disbelief.

“I have a life outside of my shops, you know. How do you think I stock up after you expendables leave me empty handed?”

“Well… okay, I guess that’s fair. I know you scavenge around for things, I just never expected to run into you while you were doing it.”

“Yet here we are.”

“Right…” your gaze drifts back down to the, uh… splattered wall dweller remains on the ground. “Ew… uh, thanks for that by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies bluntly.

You step to the side to make some distance between you and the carnage- and then a realization strikes you.

“Wait, why didn’t you just let it kill me? If you did, you could’ve just looted my corpse again. It’s not like you haven’t done that plenty of times before. Don’t you want me to fail?”

He stares at you. Usually he’s quick to respond to anything you have to say to him, but it seems you might have actually stumped him for once. You weren’t exactly sure why, though.

You stare at each other in silence for a little too long before Sebastian finally speaks up.

“... Well. Some of you expendables like to eat this disgusting shit, don’t you?” He picks up a dweller chunk off the ground. “I just figured since I’ve seen you freaks eat them often enough, and they’re usually so hard to come by, I could start hunting them down once in a while and sell chunks of them for a good price! Smart business move, no?” He grins again, seemingly back in character.

You blink. “... Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“See? I’m just scavenging. Nothing more to it. This is purely for my benefit, not for yours.”

You frown, annoyed and unamused. “Right. Got it. Thanks.”

He hums with a cheeky smile before turning around to leave. “Well, I best be going. See you real soon, Expendable.”

“Wait!”

He halts, glancing over his shoulder to find you removing your bag from your person.

“While you’re here…” you hand Sebastian your bag. “Want this?”

He’s staring again. At you, then at the bag. Then back up to you.

“… What do you want?” He asks, turning to face you once more.

“Nothing. I have everything I need, really, and I don’t want you to have to re-scavenge for whatever I would buy off of you here. So… take it.”

You’ve stunned him again. This time you figure it’s because you’re basically offering him free money.

Once again, he is trying desperately to understand you. But he can’t. He never does, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why are you like this? Why are you so kind to him, even in moments like this? And why does it make him feel so…

“Sebastian?”

Your voice interrupts his train of thought.

He rudely snatches the bag out of your hand. “Don’t expect me to give you anything for this later,” he warns.

“I won’t. Consider it a thanks for saving me,” you smile.

“I wasn’t trying to save you.”

“I know,” you assure him and make your way to the next room the navi-path is leading you to.

He watches you.

You wave to him as you walk off, facing away from him as you do. “See you soon, fish sticks!”

He watches until you’re out of sight.

A strange, fluttery feeling occupies his stomach. You did this to him. He hates it.

He hates your stupid nicknames for him. He hates your stupid face, and that stupid smile you give him almost every time he sees you. He hates your teasing, and your little playful remarks that you send his way when he’s being an asshole. He hates your stupid laugh. He hates that he’s memorized the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you do. He hates all the little things you do to show that you care and don’t want to upset him. He hates that you express that same kindness to other occupants of this hellscape that deserve it more than he does. He hates that you’re an unstoppable force that won’t quit no matter how often he discourages you.

He hates you. More than anything.

And yet…

For some reason…

A part of him still can’t wait to see you again on your next run.

[firemenenthusiast]

—“autumn”

jann mardenborough x fem!reader

summary: how many anniversaries could we actually get through ?

warnings: angst. read at your own risk

a/n: this has always been my favourite type of trope so rest assured, im totally fine and so excited to have written one myself (yippee😆)

“But you stuck around when I was down. And I'll owe you all my days”

anniversaries.

anniversaries is such a pure concept. a reminder of the exact day the paths of two stray souls intersect, a reminder for the beginning of a story, a reminder that maybe the universe isn’t pawning off of human misery afterall. jann loved anniversaries, he loved them so much so he went beyond his way to remind you of the day the paths of the stray soul within the both of you intersected. every single year, without fail would he plan something just to get to spend time with you, just to get to see you, in any way possible.

jann loved reliving the day he swore he was gonna spend the rest of his life with you, eventhough the two of you had just met. if he was to be offered the chance to be there again, in that park, bumping into you, he would snatch it off the offering hand so no one else would get there before him. again and again, no matter how long he’ll be stuck in the loop, no matter how much it’s violently clawing away every inch of his being. he would choose you, every. single. time, in a blink on an eye.

conveniently, today’s the anniversary of the day a really tall curlyhead made you drop the fresh pastry that was just handed to you by the nice cart uncle whom you saw almost every time you were strolling through the park. it was a major setback of your day, and you were close to erupt chaos of rage in the middle of the park seeing your pain au chocolat rolling on the ground helplessly, covered in dirt. at that time, the pastry seemed to be the only thing that could save you from a mental breakdown from a hell of a day you had just went through. so when a silly nerd decided he was gonna practise walking for the first time in his life and bumped into you, you felt like smacking him in the back of his head. if only you could actually reach it.

conveniently, the same silly nerd felt really bad about the whole situation, so much so he insisted on getting you a new one from the nice uncle’s cart. but this story would’ve ended right that moment if the nice uncle had more to offer. aparently the filth indulgent pastry on the ground was one of the few last ones he had to carry. it was in the evening after all, nobody were actually looking forward to some flaky, buttery goodness at that time. you were ready to accept everything the universe had planned for your misery that day, to just drag your feet home with slumped shoulders, tired eyes and tastebuds yearning for what could’ve been your sitting-by-the-fountain snack. and you did, but not without the silly nerd’s offer of getting you one the next day, as a repayment of his crooked steps that were the cause of the tragedy to the french, which of course, was the pastry on the ground.

conveniently, when you walked through the park the next day, on the same path you do every day after work, you saw the silly nerd again. only this time he didn’t look so silly, because in his hands were already two pain au chocolats, beautifully wrapped with a sheer paper, just in time for your arrival. it’s like he knew exactly when you were gonna come, and it’s like he knew that you weren’t gonna stood him up on that offer. in reality, it was nothing like that. he couldn’t get the nerves out of his system, and he almost bleed out his bottom lips from biting on them too hard in anticipation on whether you were gonna come.

he had every right to think that after the awkwardness and the clumsiness he displayed the day before, you were gonna think that he’s such a loser. and that such a beauty like you wouldn’t ever dare to even be in his presence ever again. he accepted that fact, he did. but he was willing to risk it, he was willing to appear stupid in that park again, holding two pastries in his hands like some kind of idiot. to his suprise, he got to see that pretty face again. the muscly organ behind his chest beat like it was gonna replace the pastry from the day before, on the ground, rolling in dirt. the universe owe him one for what happened, so what was actually displayed on his face when he saw you was a bright smile. a smile so bright that it was contagious, so bright that it jumped right onto your face too.

the two of you spent the rest of the evening by the fountain, enjoying the pastry together, realising that you enjoyed one another more than the deliciousness in your hands. the doors of your homes at that time welcomed the arrival of two people back home, separately ofcourse, noticing the obvious grins on your faces. it was almost cliche, and the story sounded like it jumped right out of a 90s romcom. only that those always end with a happy ending, making them the definition of cliche.

every thing seemed to be so conveniently sketched out in the story about the both of you, yet what actually made it all possible were the two hearts that tugged themselves towards each other, the willingness to make space for one another, and the fondness that was growing. yes, it all happened in a simple way, but what most people dont get is that simplicity is often overlooked. for the both of you, simplicity is what tied two beings together. loving you was simple for jann. it came almost like breathing for him, and it’s like he was dead for the first part of his life, before he met you. jann liked simple, but not as much as he loved you. if complexity is what he had to endure to keep you in his heart, to keep you close, then he’s willing to be demented for the rest of eternity.

jann had this routine he’d been doing since your very first anniversary, that he without fail would go over, sometimes even adding new things to the tradition he thought you’d like. walking down the pavement below his appartment, towards the cute little flowershop right beside the cafe, he already knew what he would get.

your flowers.

the flowers that he’d told you reminded him of you, and the flowers that he said represented you so well. he told you countless times whenever he’d get you those flowers that even with them beside you, you’re still so much prettier. and as corny as it might sound, you had to conceal the heat and red rushing towards your face.

jann had his way with words, particularly because they weren’t purposely formed to flatter you, they were actually a fragment of his love for you. sometimes he didn’t even realise that he was making you feel all giddy inside, and that his rosy cheeks were suddenly looking all kissable. at this point mrs. anderson from the flowershop already got the bouquet prepared for him, and it’s just the most convenient thing ever. one thing stripping him away from the whole routine is deliberately picking out each stem to build the bouquet. it was around your sixth anniversary had mrs. anderson realised that jann had been walking through her door around the same time of every year.

jann always came in to buy the exact same flowers in the fall, without fail.

so she stuck out and showed interest to the flowers jann had been getting all those years, asking about who was it for, what’s the occasion and all. she learned a lot about you from listening to jann without even having met you. that time when you actually walked into the shop with jann, you were slightly taken aback by how much the woman knew about you. jann was just chuckling in the background at the whole meeting, amusement clearly accompanying him. the both of you had become her favourite couple since then.

because of the season, the flower would become harder to obtain. it wouldn’t be found anywhere else accept mrs. anderson’s, that happened to be right at the corner of his apartment, just a walk down the pavement away. has anyone been keeping the word count on the word convenient so far ? even if the small shop around the corner didn’t carry your flowers, he would be walking to the final edge of the earth if he had to. what could you say ? jann’s a stickler for routines and when the routine involves making you happy, he’d be more than ecstatic.

on this exact date every year, your routine is to put on your best clothes, stand in your most gorgeous pair of shoes, and walk to the park where the two of you met that particular evening with your prettiest face. but that was never a problem. you’d sit on the creaking wooden hazel bench and wait for jann. only that on your anniversaries, jann wouldn’t knock your fresh pastry down to be eaten by the ground. the routine you two had for your anniversary was maybe corny and cheesy to some, but it reminds you of the silly nerd that looked like he was damn near picking up the little snack he’d accidently made you drop to lick all the dirt off of it before handing it back to you. you were forever grateful he didn’t actually do that, because you didn’t think you’d be coming back the next day to meet him in the same spot.

somewhere around your 12th anniversary, 8 years after your marriage did the park became no longer the strategic spot for your anniversary meet up, as it was no longer suitable for the picnic the both of you would set up to just bask in each other’s warmth amidst the breeze of autumn, intertwining your fingers till sometimes they get entangled. even though it was simple, yet it was the date you’d look forward to all year round. it was so special, that you promised each other that the tradition wouldn’t die down, away with one of you. every time you’d sit on the checkered blanket weighted down by the basket and both your figures, you’d talk about the future, and what the both of you hope for each other. it was nice, really nice. especially when jann would bring up the topic of having a mini you around the house, your cheeks would heat up and the cold would always expose the rosy tint away. he thought it was the cutest thing ever, which was why he swore he’d never stop teasing you about it.

it was also in that very park, on a walk the both of you decided to take on a random saturday did he first said that he loved you, to which you told him the same. it was pure, what the two of you had. you were so good for each other, a few fights ? ofcourse, but nothing could infiltrate the depth of fondness you held within your core.

it’s your 15th anniversary today, a huge number yet it feels so small. how fast time flies when you spend the entirety of your life devoted to each other. jann couldn’t help the bittersweet smile creeping onto his face as he walk on the fluffy grass, his hand swiping across the swinging wooden sign when he steps past.

“c’mon, lets go see mommy sweetheart” the little girl clinging onto jann’s large hand seemed to not have anything to protest, as she obediently arranges her new steps infront each of them, eyes focused on her little strawberry shoes.

seeing her so determined sends a tingle in his heart, how could a human this small be so precious to him ? how could a small human that he just met three years ago be so dear to him that if anything were to happen to her he’d ask the devil to lunge his sword right into his chest himself ? well maybe that’s a bit too graphic but he stands by his point.

“hey honey, we’re here” jann announces to you in a sing songy tone, to get the little girl’s attention and to tell her they’ve arrived at their destination.

crouching beside his daughter, jann holds her chubby arms to face her towards you, handing her the bouquet of your flowers the both of them had fetched from mrs. anderson so she could place it on the shiny sleek marble slab, engraved on it are your first and middle name, and ‘mardenborough’ at the end of them.

it’s true that the park was no longer suitable, as you had been forever eternalized someplace else.

“sorry we’re a bit late, someone insisted on wearing her strawberry shoes this morning instead of her favourite purple ones she makes me put on her every single day” jann informs, talking to the non-responding piece of stone with a warm smile, his large hands almost covering the entirety of the little child’s anterior. a pair of amber hued orbs stares back at him, obviously unamused knowing that her dad was talking about her.

“atleast that shows that she’s got fashion sense just like you. i mean, it couldn’t possibly be from me” the end of his sentence is accompanied by a soft laugh, before it slowly trails away. pulling a deep breath, he looks over to the little hand pulling at his curls at the side of his head. the same curls that is also on top of hers.

“hey you wanna tell mommy what we did yesterday ?” the girl nods at his offer, perking up to exercise her speech that has started to get really put together. jann’s more excited knowing that compared to last year, she gets to actually tell you what they did the day before, having only gained her speech earlier this year. they tried telling you last year, but all that came out were mumbles of the words ‘mama’ and ‘dada’. seemed to be all she knew back then.

“we went to picnic in daddy’s park, had pasty” she begins, which also seems to be the end too, earning a light chuckle from jann.

“it’s pastry, but you get it” he informs with a hand gesture, smoothing his hand over her head, the luscious curls moving back against his palm.

trailing his eyes across every inch of your stone, his hand reaches up to graze over the surface, dragging with his fingers the thin dust film. all he could do was smile, forcefully tucking away the heavy, deep longing painfully dragging down his core. the least he could do to show his love for you now is to raise his little girl to be the amazing person he once knew you were. he prays, every single day that he has what it takes to replicate such beauty from within.

the picnic tradition the both of you had changed now, for a slightest bit. instead of going on your exact anniversary date, jann now brings your daughter to the park a day before to spend the entire evening, reminiscing about you. it’s his way of keeping the memory of you always alive for his daughter. and the next day would be reserved to go see you at a totally different location, far away from the park.

seeing as his daughter wouldn’t get to grow up with the warmth of your love as much as he got to, he decided that this will be the way of him sharing what’s left of that love with her, by devoting this tradition to remind his daughter that her mother will always be looking out for her. jann wishes that the tradition of your anniversary will live forever, until the universe sends him the invitation of reuniting with you again, in a different universe.

a universe far away from the one where a love story is so conveniently sketched out, that it was too good to be true.

there’s a reason why two stray souls could only intersect, as they would eventually pass over each other at some point.

taglist: @r4vn @love-me-pls @radioloom @farleighlover @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @juniperhasfallen @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @inglourious-imagines

divider creds: @rookthornesartistry

[kentopedia]

RYLIE OMG you’re nanamis classmate and you guys are just like friends or whatever and then he leaves right??? but you stay because jujutsu is all you have. but you guys stay “friends” but hardly ever see each other. then he becomes a sorcerer again yippee!! and you guys are seeing each other a lot more.

he has feelings for you but things you have a thing for gojo so he doesn’t go for it. tension ensues.

anyways!!! i hope your thursday was great rylie!! xxxx

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ AND I AM DONE, DEAR — nanami kento

contents. angst (we’re going back to my roots!), maybe unrequited love, fem!reader, 800ish words

notes. this is so painful bc he wouldn't go for it either :( and then satoru pursues you because you've gotten close over the past couple of years, and kento's been gone </3 there are years worth of memories and jokes between the two of you, and kento spent those years miserable & alone. sometimes, he wonders what would've happened if he'd just had the strength to remain a sorcerer, instead of running from everything he hated

"kento," you snap him out of his stream of endless memories, the ones that always seem to gnaw at him when he was around you.

he glances up, and a culmination of flashbacks spin before his eyes.

he sees you at fourteen, a first year student who was still so scared of her technique.

he sees you at sixteen, smiling from ear to ear at another one of gojo and geto's ridiculous antics.

he sees you at seventeen, sobbing over the corpse that had once belonged to the kindest student in your year.

he sees you at eighteen, your empty, hollow expression when he told you he was leaving, and he wasn't coming back.

"yes?" kento asks, forcing the memories away, because you're there in front of him, more beautiful than he remembers... and though you aren't a stranger in his life anymore, his mind still doesn't do justice to the depth of your angelic features.

"is everything okay?" you ask, blinking up at him with concern. your voice turns into something gentle when you're around him, almost like he's something fragile. the kindness in your heart is endless, extending, even, to the man that once broke it.

kento clears his throat, wondering how much emotion he'd let filter onto his expression. he'd gotten worse at hiding it ever since you'd stumbled back into his life, the woman he hadn't realized he'd loved until it was too late.

"yes," he repeats, flat, calm. though he can't muster a smile, he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "why do you ask?"

for a moment, you chew your lip, thoughtful. kento wants to kiss you. he wonders what you'd say if you knew.

"you've just been..." you shake your head, rubbing your arm awkwardly. "ever since..." the sentences are broken, uncomfortable, and though you'd once been best friends, there is a sense of professionalism between you now. a wall that he doesn't think he can break down anymore.

kento parts his lips, considers interrupting, but someone beats him to it. gojo satoru, the constant pain in kento's ass, saunters into the room with a sparkly white grin, gleefulness bounding off of him in a way that's obnoxious.

"there you are! megumi told me i might find you here," satoru says, and he's to you in just three long strides, attaching to you like a magnet. "ready, baby?"

gojo kisses the top of your head, throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles at kento, like he knows what's running through his mind.

you're still studying kento, and he pretends not to notice you scrutinizing him, the way your lips are flushed from chewing on them. "yeah," you say to satoru, squeezing his hand, the sparkly bracelet with gojo's initials dangling from two charms shimmering.

a subtle reminder that kento may have loved you longer, but you'll never really be his.

you start to walk out the door, and kento watches with what he hopes appears as impassivity, his lips drawn into a thin line. though, just as satoru is beginning to pull you across the threshold, you meet kento's dark brown eyes, the ones that turn so tender the moment they land on you.

"kento?" you ask once more

his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but he wishes he didn't want to know what it sounded like on the edge of a moan.

"ijichi is waiting." kento doesn't let you ask whatever you were thinking of asking, because being pinned by your beautiful, caring eyes is almost too much for him to bear.

you blink, surprised by his harshness as you curl into satoru, almost imperceptibly. "right. have a good evening, then. see you tomorrow."

kento nods, pushing his glasses back onto his face. his heart cracks a bit at the emotion tinged in your words, and though his severity has never hurt you before, he's beginning to wonder if it's hurting you now.

"bye, nanamin!" satoru waves cheerfully, and the two of you are gone, leaving nanami in the room alone, the silence almost deafeaning.

he's used to it by now: the solitude of his life. he's used to being strong when he's needed, and even when he's not. everyone sees him that way: the man who's steadfast, unwavering, a little too serious for his own good.

if only they knew he was a weak man when it came to you.

[cybsoo2]

bunny kiss

╰┈➤ synopsis — In a sleepy soft haze, you both wish you could sleep in forever. When it’s time to leave for work, Jungkook won’t let you. Maybe 5 more minutes wouldn’t hurt. 

╰┈➤ pairing —bunny-hybrid!jungkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 750+

╰┈➤ content warning — nothing! yippee!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; attempting fluff for the first time, i'm not a fan of this

A blaring alarm wakes you up. In a panicked haze your head shoots up and you blindly reach out to snooze it. A heavy weight covering half your body leaves you helpless. After a significant struggle you shift closer to the bedside table and slam your hand against the annoying alarm. Now you rest with your head hanging halfway off the mattress.

You turn to the side and see Jungkook snoozing away in his soft slumber. His head is placed peacefully on top of your back. Small snores are all that fills the silence. 

You reach behind you to try and wake him. “Kook,” you start out softly, “Wake up.” Jungkook makes no move to get off you. If anything, his arms only tighten their hold on you. Strong arms that slide just under your shirt to cling onto your waist. 

He hugs himself close with a solid grip. His long legs tangle with yours, and his head is tucked in between your two shoulder blades. 

“Jungkook,” your voice is raspy but raises itself in volume. “I have to get to work.” In a slightly painful attempt, you reach around you to rub his back. A groan is stuffed into your shirt. Jungkook tugs himself closer than possible and turns his head the other way. 

In the conclusion that your failures are futile, you put more force into escaping his clutch instead of waking him. You grasp the edge of the bed and bring out your lonely leg to wrap around the frame. Once you’ve braced yourself, you attempt to heave your body off the bed, but it doesn’t end so well.

Jungkook, so tightly attached to you, ends up dragging himself along with you. Two bodies end up twisted around each other on the floor. You let out a grunt from the impact while he groans from being awoken. 

He peeks his head up from the blankets still wrapped around him. His hair sticks up in an endearing way. His sleepy state also leaves his lips in a pout with pink, puffy cheeks to match. Jungkook squints his eyes against the light and stares at you in confusion. 

“What was that for?” His rough voice rasps against its misuse. He then drops his head upon your stomach to settle himself back to sleep.

“Jungkook,” you run your fingers through his tousled hair. “Jungkook, I have to work.” You lift yourself onto your elbows and peer down at him.

Jungkook rubs his head against your stomach and lets out a whine. “No,” he places two kisses along the waistband of your pajama pants. “Just stay.”

“Kook, you know I can’t do that,” You tilt your head in a teasing manner, finding his sudden affection adorable. “I already called in sick last week and I can’t skip it again.” Jungkook’s response to that is to drag you down further underneath him so he rests all his weight on top of you. His large bunny body keeps you firmly pressed to the floor. 

“Jungkook~” You let out a whine at his delirious denial. He nibbles at your neck. 

“5 more minutes… just 5 more.” His voice is nothing above a murmur. 

It’s easy to compile to his pleas when you feel so pliant in his hold. “Okay, okay, just 5 more.”

“Really!” Jungkook shoots up from his spot lying down on you. He straddles your hips as he peers down at you with those dear doe eyes. Jungkook jumps up from the floor and extends a hand to help you up. Once you’re steady on two feet, he tugs at your waist eagerly to drag you back down to bed. Jungkook puppets you into a comfortable position. He hops off the bed for only a second to gather the scattered blankets that tumbled off from your attempt to flee. 

Jungkook grabs at your limbs to lock onto himself. He pulls at your legs to tangle with his, and pries at your arms to wrap around him. 

You keep him tucked to your chest in order to keep him still. You feel his tail twitch from where it just barely touches the base of your hand. 

As the sweet smell of sleep enters the room, Jungkook clings closer, trying to travel alongside your dreams as a duo. Counting the minutes quickly turns to counting sheep as you feel a drowsy drug start to pull you under. The Sandman takes you both to dreamland while the hours fly adrift in reality.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[piss-pumpkin]

🏖️ A beach episode 🌊

Older!Dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 23 ~4.0k words Masterlist Prev

The state of your head meant you couldn’t swim much. Getting water on it, especially dirty water, like that of the Gravity Falls lake was a bad idea. Having the cut contaminated or infected was a big no-no. Even with it healing well, there was still a somewhat open wound under your bandaid, and the cover was far from water proof. That being said, you also weren’t a bitch. 

You just couldn’t let the water touch your head. Seemed easy enough. 

Your flip flop broke on the way to the shore, so Dipper gave you a piggy back ride, and you kicked your other sandal at Mabel, who walked ahead of you. She didn’t dodge, and it hit her in the back. The Grunkles were grabbing things from the trunk: floaties, a chair for Stan, some weird invention of Fords that would do… something to the water. 

Dipper let you down on the dock, where you wouldn’t get sand stuck on your feet. 

The dock was worn down from years of splashing and walking, and you’d been told it was the place where Mabel got her first kiss. And with a merman Dipper was not fond of. That was a fun bit of mythology. 

The lake wasn’t exactly crowded, but it was on the busy side. You couldn’t be too surprised considering the good weather. On the beach, the cops, Blubs and Durland were laying in towels and giggling to themselves over magazines you couldn’t make out from the dock. A couple of Wendy’s brothers were on the water fishing. Mcguckets son was lecturing some teenager sternly.

Stan had used the car to inflate a couple floats. He was walking towards the three of you, tube in hand, a  nice one too. It had a headrest, and netting in the bottom to sit on.

“Oh my god, look at that!” Mabel said, pointing into the water. 

You looked. The lake water was a little dirty, tinted greenish from some underwater plants growing off the dock legs.

“Um, what?” Dipper asked, leaning over the edge of the dock. You fought the urge to push him in, he hadn’t wronged you in a while, probably didn’t deserve it.

”Yeah, I don’t see anything, what are we looking at?” You asked, studying the lake. You didn’t even see any fish.

Mabel looked up at the both of you, jaw hung open. She pointed accusingly at the small waves. “You guys seriously didn’t see that?” She asked, brow raised. “It was like- I fucking huge fish or something!” 

You pursed your lips, glancing back at the water. It seemed all clear. “Uhhh,” you looked at Dipper, who had a matching look of apprehension, with a little curiosity. “Yeah, I didn’t see anything,” you admitted.

Dipper put his hand up like he was in a classroom, “I also didn’t see-“

“Hey kids, catch,” Stan called, hurling the tube like a frisbee. 

You turned around to look at the shore where he came from. “Huh-“ the tube hit you square in the face. The impact of the rubber got your straight in the forehead. For a soft material, it sure did hit hard when you had stitches in your face. “Fuck!”

You heard Stan suck a breath in through his teeth, “Sorry, my bad,” he said. 

Dippers jaw was hanging open as he looked at Stan, and Stan shot a thumbs up with a guilty smile and shuffled away. 

Mabel swooped I’m in front of you to look at your head. “Bandaids still on,” she said, examining the edges. She picked up the tube Stan threw, and handed it to you. “So your still alive, that’s good!”

You grimaced. At least you could tell your head was getting better, because it didn’t stay bad for long. You blinked a few times, and the pain was nearly gone. “Yippee,” you said dryly.

                                         …

Dipper and Mabel could swim, and you could… hangout. When they went in the water, you lounged in the tube.

Mabel actually had one too. She swam to shore to grab a float shaped like a pizza slice. She flopped up on it, and laid on her back, saying she was trying to get tan.  Her head was buried face down in the crust.

You might’ve rested your sunglasses on your forehead if not for the bandage. Instead, they were over your eyes as you lounged on the tube, and you hoped to god that your sunscreen would be enough to avoid a sunglasses tan line. 

It was surprising how good a job you were doing keeping the water off your face. The headrest of your float was completely dry. 

The twins traded the pizza slice around. Dipper ended up sitting on it, holding onto the side of your tube so he didn’t drift away. The tube was much higher in the water then Dippers float, so for today you were taller than him. Felt good. 

Mabel insisted on diving for pearls. You and Dipper ended up slowly drifting away from her spot by the docks, carried by the weak waves. You caught a glimpse her feet above the surface before she vanished under the water for another dive. 

You leaned over to Dipper, “I feel like we should be betting on if she finds anything, you know?”

He leaned on the tube, and you smiled seeing up close how you were a good head and a half taller than him like this. “She totally won’t, right?” He said, half as a question. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” She came up for air again, and took her goggles off to get some water out of them. When she saw the two of you facing her, she waved enthusiastically before putting them on again and diving. “I would say no, but it’s Gravity Falls, you can never know for sure,” you grinned. 

Dipper snickered. “Okay, if she finds a pearl, it’ll be super weird,” he said, talking with his hands as he tried to draw an elaborate picture in the air. 

“Or better yet,” you added, “not even a pearl. She finds some weird cursed gem or artifact.”

He tapped at the rubber of the float. “Okay, I like your thinking,” he said, “but she’s so shallow, like what, did some dude just drop some weird magic thing off the dock?”

You waved your hand in dismissal as you snickered. “Well maybe, like a wizard or something was walking one night and just keeps shit in his pockets,” you said, trying to think. Thinking was hard through. “Or it’s just washing up from the tide.”

Dipper snorted, “washing up from where? This is not a big lake.”

You winced, swishing your cheeks around your mouth. “Uhhh,” you started. 

Before you could come up with something, Dipper gasped. “Wait no- no you’re right,” he said quickly, looking over at the island in the other side of the lake. “I, uh- remembered. There is very much weird shit in here.” 

You pursed your lips, “Okay, well now I’m worried.” The best you could think of was how Mabel’s merman boyfriend somehow ended up in the ocean from here, so it clearly connected somewhere. That or you could make up some underwater ancient city. 

Dipper glanced around, then pointed at the island on the far side. “I’m like, eighty percent sure that island is alive, and it’s a giant floating head,” he whispered. “But we’re fine, we’re… so far over here.”

”Um,” you said, trying to think about that. You had nothing though. Your head was completely empty. You’d totally been on that island before. 

In very convenient timing, you caught a dark glimmer under the water under you. Like… a big fish. But it didn’t look right in the way it moved. “Dipper,” you said sternly, pointing to the water. 

He hummed, looking first at you, then following your finger. Luckily, it was still in a sight. A big, maybe human sized, dark shadow swimming… towards the dock. You could tell Dipper saw it, because his face first lit up with excitement, then fell. Mabel had just come up for air. 

You and Dipper looked at each other, then back at Mabel. The dark shadow had disappeared in her direction. “Dude,” you said.

”Yep,” he affirmed quickly. 

You turned, and started to paddle your tube back over to the dock. Dipper looked like he was about to do the same. You poked at his arm, “you can just swim over, man,” you said. 

He glanced at Mabel, then at the pizza slice. “Yeah, okay,” he said, rolling back into the water.

As he started to swim away, Mabel raised her hand above the water, and you couldn’t hear what she was saying. It looked like she was holding something to show. Maybe a pearl. 

In a blink though, she was almost under. Your eyes widened as her head, all but the top of her hair sunk. Then she was back with a gasp, thrashing.

You sat right up, pointing, “Holy fuck!” You couldn’t tell if Dipper saw, but he definitely heard. He looked back at you for a moment. “Go get her!” you yelled, frantically trying to paddle over. How important was your head? Should you just jump in?

You worried faded quickly though, as Dipper picked up the pace swimming to the dock. He’d get there far faster than you could anyway, now. So you paddled as best you could. 

Mabel disappeared under, and Dipper was close enough to dive after her. And for a good moment, it was oddly quiet. Most of what you heard was your own paddling. You swallowed hard. Ford was far off on the shore doing something with the water. Stan was asleep on his chair. The rest of the people on the lake didn’t seem to see anything. It was just you, the twins, and some random sea monster. Or… lake monster.

By the time you got close, they were still under. You tapped against the tube. You pulled your feet out of the water, like touching it would get you pulled down too. Should you just go? You stood up, and peered over into the waves.

Just then, you heard the surface break behind you, and gasps for air. You whipped around, nearly falling off as you did. Your knees hit the netting in the tube as you crashed down. “Guys?” You asked, paddling over to them. 

Dipper was holding Mabel, who looked more shaken up, and swimming towards you. You offered a hand, and he made Mabel take it first. Only sliding around a little bit, you managed to help haul her into the tube beside you. 

Next was Dipper. Three people in one tube was not great, but it beat touching the water. You caught a glimpse of the shadow fish under you just as Dipper was climbing on. You held the pizza slice float like a weapon to bat it away if it tried anything. It didn’t. 

Dipper and Mabel were panting, and Dippers eyes were locked on the water. 

“Guys, what happened?” You asked, starting to paddle to the dock. If you could climb up onto it, you wouldn’t have to be on the water so long. Dipper must have had the same idea, because he started helping. 

But he also kept looking back at the water. The fish was gone, though. He hummed lowly, “there was-“

”-That bitch had arms!” Mabel shouted, staring at her hands. They were shaking a little. “And they were fucking gross!” 

You grimaced. Fish with arms. Alright. You got to the dock, and Mabel was talking about the fish with arms, and black hollow eyes, according to her. The dock wasn’t too high off the water. With a boost at the feet, you and Dip got Mabel up first, then you, then you both helped to pull him up. You had his hands, so he brought the floats up one with his leg, and one with his teeth. 

You all sat on the dock a moment, catching your breath. You looked around. Nobody seemed to notice the commotion, somehow. 

“Guys!” Mabel shouted, pointing at the water.

You rushed over to the edge to see. The big fish was moving towards the shore, and closer to the surface. You could see the… arms.. flowing at its sides more clearly now that Mabel pointed them out. 

You scanned the beach. Nobody was too near the water except… Ford, kneeling by the waterline with a little machine. You sucked a breath in through your teeth, “God, Fuck.”

The fish moved pretty fast. The three of you stood up, and started to run.

Running felt weird on the head. You slowed to a jog while the others sped to Ford. 

The fish got there first, though. Dipper and Mabel were calling his name, but Ford didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring at the water. The dark shadow was swirling where he knelt, and Ford seemed hypnotized. 

“Cathrine, you came!” He said giddily. His eyes were wide and enchanted as the fish emerges from the water. 

The twins slowed down, stopping to stare. You caught up to have with them. The fish, apparently named Cathrine, was disgusting. It… or maybe she- had arms that moved and sagged and hung like kelp, and were the same colour, too. She didn’t have fingers, instead just… leaves. Her hair was a wet lump of darker plant, cooled down her back. Her skin was also a murky green, and feathered with plants and dusted with sand.

Mabel was gaping, and pointed at the slimy kelp hands, “oh my god, that touched me,” she said meekly. 

“Great uncle Ford!” Dipper yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Get away from that, it’s dangerous!”

His warning were in vein, though. Ford finally looked over at the three of you on the docks, and just waved happily, “Hi Kids!” then went back to staring into Cathrines eyes. Or… actually you weren’t sure if it had eyes, you didn’t see its face. 

Dipper started speed walking to him again, and you and Mabel followed behind. He stopped suddenly, “wait, Cathrine?” He said, one hand moving to his chin. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, silently agreeing not to interrupt his thought process.

”Cathrine- ugh, where do I recognize that…” he grumbled, string between the wood planks of the dock into the water. He snapped his fingers, “oh my god, I’ve got it,” he said, looking at Ford again. “Great uncle Ford wrote in the journal, he used to date a siren names Cathrine, do you guys think…” he trailed off, and you all looked at the big fish again. 

Yeah, she could look like a Cathrine.

“Okay, so let’s kick her away from him, right?” You asked, eying Cathrine. 

They nodded. 

When Ford saw you all approaching again, he grinned even wider at you. He pointed the three of you out to Cathrine, who turned her head to look, and for the first time you saw she did have eyes. She had hollow, pure black eyes, and completely sunken in skin, worn down like when water blazes a trail into stone. Her cheeks could have been a river, and her wrinkles like streams. 

“Kids, come meet Cathy!” Ford called happily. How Stan was still asleep on the chair with a magazine over his face, you’d never understand. 

Dipper practically wheezed, “fucking Cathy?” He looked frantically between you and Mabel, then back to Ford. He shouted across the water again, “That thing tried to drown Mabel!”

Ford waved his hand, “she wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly, possibly forgetting that you were all across the dock from him.

That might’ve been the last straw. The three of you started running to the shore again to catch Ford before something unfortunate happened. You had to slow down for your head, but even in a jog the old planks of the dock hammered under your feet. 

“You’ll love her,” Ford declared happily, taking her slimy kelp hands in his own to hold lovingly. “I think we’re going to finally tie the knot!”

Mabel had to stop running to cough and sputter as she started to laugh. “Go on without me,” she wheezed, planting her hands on her knees to support herself.

You heard Dipper mumble under his breath at her, but he kept forward towards Ford. When your feet hit the sand and dirt off the ground, Dipper was already close. Mabel coughed behind you as she caught up.

Ford was entranced in Cathrines eyes, and she was subtly pulling him closer by the hands. Well, not that subtle, actually, if you could notice from across the beach. Subtle enough that Ford didn’t seem to pay any mind. “I can’t believe it,” he said dreamily. “After all these years, I found you again.”

 ”No fucking shot,” you said, turning to Mabel as the two of you rested. Damn your head. Dipper was the only one doing anything productive. 

Catherine pulled harder, and Ford started idly leaning more toward the water, until he was wading in on his knees to follow her direction. It was only when she smiled wide that you saw her mouth. Her lips blended well into her skin, almost unnoticeable until she opened her jaw, and you could see the rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. 

“Great uncle Ford, no!” Dipper said, as if he was scolding a dog. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, and decided rest time was over. You both tried to catch up with them. 

Just as Cathy tried to yank Ford into the water, Dipper practically tackled him, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him back. “Great uncle Ford, snap out of it!” He yelled, turning his head so he didn’t scream in Fords ear. 

“D-dipper, what are you doing?” Ford asked, with all the hurt in his tone of a kicked puppy. He fought back against Dipper, and was far stronger. 

Luckily, just as he broke free, and Dippers grasp broke, you and Mabel got there. She took his arms, pulling them out of Cathy’s grip, while you shoved Ford onto his side in the sand and held him down. Ford tried to thrash and resist, but Mabel kept a firmer grip than Dipper did. 

“Ford, you fuck,” you said, looking as Cathrines deranged smile curled into a teeth scowl. “Do we have to kill you? What’s going on?” 

“She’s the love of my life!” 

Dipper groaned, glaring down Cathrine. 

Ford struggled against you and Mabel, hard. Mabel grumbled holding back his arms as his thrashing grew more desperate the closer Cathrine inched to the sand. Ford tried to wiggle towards her, so you sat on him to hold him down.

You looked to Dipper, expecting help. Or for him to swat the creature away. Instead, he was staring down Cathy, with what at first looked like a glare, but you went on to realize was… a trance. “God fucking-“ you started. You tried to reach him without moving too far from your post, but it didn’t work. At least Dip wasn’t moving. 

Cathy had turned her attention to your boyfriend, and Ford was not happy. “Cathy?” He practically begged. 

You were also not happy. “Dip,” you said, snapping your finger at him to get his attention. It didn’t work. In fact, he hadn’t blinked the whole time you’d been looking at him. You glanced back at Mabel, still holding thrashing arms. Ugh. “Dipper, snap the fuck out of it,” you complained. 

The siren creeped closer to him, and he made no effort to move away. Worse, he knelt down to her level. Mabel seemed to notice too, “uh, bro?” She asked. 

“Ok, Mabes, let’s both agree not to look too hard at Cathy, alright?” You said, trying to keep the fish out of your peripheral. “Cuz he can’t look away right now.”

Mabel nodded, averting her eyes. At the very least, Ford was calming down. Well, no. Calm was not the right word. Ford was depressed and disparaged like you’d never seen before, practically melting into the sand rather than thrashing for escape. 

You tentatively got up from Ford. The moment your weight was off him, he sprang up and tried to lunge for Cathrine. “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled, tackling him again and holding him down. A low groan escaped his lips. 

Things were getting worse for Dipper though. Slowly, as if crossing a threshold, he outstretched his hand for Cathrine, despite Fords despondent wails. Her disgusting slimy leaves were dangling above him as she lowered them onto his palm. You made mental note not to touch his hands until he washed them.

You looked at Mabel. There seemed to be a stalemate going on. “Ok, what if one of us takes arms and body,” you suggested, looking at Fords sad face resting in the sand. 

“Oh!” She perked up. “I can try,” she offered. 

“Uh, on three?” You asked. You shared a nod and started to count.

On three, you leapt up towards Dipper, shoved him out of the way. You pressed your eyes into a squint as you faced Cathy, trying to avoid her face. Holy fuck her gross hand was near your legs. 

You squirmed at the thought of that touching you, and your legs moved on their own. In a swift motion that you didn’t even fully register, Cathrine was kicked in the head. Easy, since she was low to the ground on the water. 

The moment your foot collided with her face, you regretted it. Still barefoot, you could feel her grainy, slimy skin on yours, and feel the way her jaw moved with your hit, and the way it freaked with the motion. You squeaked as you recoiled away, almost wanting to cleave your foot from your body. 

Cathrine hissed, with a remarkably similar reaction to you. She slithered away back under the water like a snake, and swam away. That was all it took? 

You looked back to take stock. Mabel had knocked the wind out of Ford landing on his back, taking his arms down with her in a makeshift arm bar. Why in gods name she wasn’t doing that the whole time, you didn’t know. With Cathy gone though, he seemed to be doing better, and was actually spitting out the sand that had gotten in his mouth instead of gnawing on it defeatedly. 

You glanced at Dipper, who blinked a few times. His eyes were watery, probably recovering from the dry spell staring context he seemed to have with Cathrine. “Hey, so-“ he started, looking at you, the Ford and Mabel, then the empty spot in the water where the siren was. “Um, what happened just now?”

You snickered, “Found out you’re into old fish hags.”

Ford mumbled out a dazed, “Don’t call her that, she’s a beautiful woman.” None of that was factually correct. She looked more like a fish. 

Dippers face reddened. “I-“ he stopped himself, jaw hanging slightly open. He closed it, pursing his lips, “Yeah, I got nothing, actually.”

You rolled your eyes, and offered him a hand up. “Yeah, I didn’t think so, you freak,” you laughed smugly, “should I be jealous?”

He took the hand, brushing the sand off his legs. “Uh, maybe not you,” he said, glancing back at the ground. “But Great uncle Ford should be.”

He groaned again from the ground, and Mabel got off of him. “Do you guys, uh, wanna leave?”

You stared at the water a moment, scanning for anymore dark shadows underneath. Your eyes caught on the boat Wendy’s siblings were on. “Yeah, alright,” you affirmed. “Is somebody gonna wake Stan?”

“Not it,” Mabel said. You quickly echoed her, leaving Dipper the odd one out. 

“Why are you guys the worst?” He said, walking off toward Stans chair. Ford mumbled an agreement from the ground, and you were fine to call the beach episode done. The water was not looking amazing after seeing its creatures. And you had to go home and wash your foot as soon as possible, since cutting it off wasn’t an option. 

Next

Chat I did smth scary 💀 after like 2 years I’ve given my friend fanfic privileges back. I got one friend who matches my freak and I can trust to read my fucking x readers. Trying to write this chapter was so stressful cuz for once I was self aware of my cringe.

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque @phobo-ss

[nalpurey]

in honor of the 10 months anniversary of my first ever drabble i never posted, i present to you: my first ever drabble i never posted. yippee

cw: femdom, malesub, both are afab, mentions of sa, overall fluffy playful smut. it’s scrlm btw <3

also this takes place after scara’s story quest. people were headcanoning he’d join us in our travels so yeah<3

here goes nothing

As the flames danced, their shadows cast wide on the ground. Lumine yawned, feeling settled in the familiarity of the campsite. Her traveling companion was always full of surprises, and tonight was no exception. He had requested a sleeping bag in their shared tent, much to her disbelief. “What? Just because I don’t need to doesn’t mean I can’t,” he had said, grinning mischievously. Lumine had rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

The two had lit a bonfire and were sitting close to one another, quietly and secretly enjoying the warmth and company of each other’s presence.

Lumine subconsciously stared at her companion. She couldn’t help but notice the way the wanderer winced imperceptibly as the weight of his body pressed against an apparently sore muscle. Lumine saw the way he stood up and straightened his back, only to wince once again as he sat back down. It was clear to her that he was in pain, and it was clear that this was something he was used to, but she still frowned.

“Are you hurt?” She carefully asked, slightly tilting her head to the side.

The wanderer shook his head, not even looking at her. “It’s nothing worth mentioning.”

The traveler sighed. We’ve been traveling companions for a while now, and he still isn’t opening up. Sure, he should take his time, but he has no reason to not trust me after what we’ve done to protect each other…

“You know,” she started in a sweet voice, staring at the dancing flames, “it’s pretty normal to get hurt, or even just have a sore back, when you do nothing but wander around and fight monsters all day. Just let me help you.”

He shook his head again, but his voice had softened. “I don’t… need healing.”

Lumine decided not to ask if that was just another way to say no or he actually didn’t need any healing as a puppet.

“But you’re in pain”, Lumine insisted. “You won’t let me heal you, so at least let me cook you some food, give you a massage or something.”

“A massage?” At the wanderer’s seemingly disgusted frown, Lumine only nodded. “But why?”

“It’ll help your muscles relax”, she responded with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. Though he was doing his best to appear indifferent, he was curious about what she would do. He stared at her hands for a couple seconds, wondering if it would have been that bad to have those soft fingers touching his skin.

“Fine then. Do your worst.”

Oh, he just had to make it into a challenge, didn’t he?

She smiled a bit widely this time. She felt like this could help them get closer. She already considered him an ally, but she wanted him to acknowledge that; to see for himself what it meant to have a companion to place his trust in.

He took off his kimono and pulled down the top part of his bodysuit. His pale rosy skin looked soft, and as perfect as a doll’s. Looking a bit more carefully, Lumine couldn’t help but notice five fading rounded scars on the center of his back. The one in the middle was bigger than the others, and those were undoubtedly the marks his puppet strings had left.

“So? Are you gonna do something, or—”

He freezed upon feeling her warm hand trace up his spine.

“Mnnh…”

“Good?”

He bit his lip. “Shut it.”

“You’re tense. Are you always like this, or…” She stopped herself, her attention being caught by something else. A small symbol on the highest part of his back. It didn’t look like a scar, it was more like a birthmark. She let her curiosity get the better of her and slid her thumb over the mark, softly. “What’s this?” She asked simultaneously.

Tingly waves of pure electricity shot through his body, running straight to his crotch, and the wanderer couldn’t prevent a soft moan of sheer pleasure from escaping his slightly parted lips.

Lumine stopped her thumb immediately. “Did I hurt you?” She asked with urgency.

“What? No. Of course not. I’m not that fragile.”

Encouraged, the traveler pressed a bit harder on the spot. Her thumb drew slow circles along the mark, until…

“Ahn… please…”

Lumine made a surprised sound, golden eyes widening.

The red-faced wanderer hastened to clarify, “That… slipped out.”

But she had already stopped. “Please what, though? Are you sure this isn’t an uncomfortable place for you to—”

“Shut up, it wasn’t a please stop.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was nothing.”

She only let out a chuckle. She really wanted to be friends (or maybe even more) with him, but right now she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Maybe you find this arousing,” she suggested with a shrug. “This one is probably a sweet spot of yours, am I right?” The wanderer parted his lips to speak, but her thumb found itself on the birthmark again and he had to close them shut to suppress the noise he felt bubbling up his throat. “It’s really pretty, though. It’s a mitsudomoe, right? Very pretty…”

The wanderer could barely focus on her praise, completely absorbed by the feeling of Lumine tracing circles around such a sensitive part of his body.

Until she realized this could probably not help his sore back. Much to the wanderer’s disappointment, she went back to massaging his back, and yes— that helped a lot, but it just didn’t feel as good.

It was pretty relaxing, though. Lumine’s touch was delicate, careful. It was completely new to him.

Maybe being in the traveler’s company wasn’t that bad.

: : :

He looked so… serene in his sleep. He looked like nothing in the world could ever disturb his slumber. Why wasn’t he always like this? The traveler could only wonder why he didn’t sleep more often, since it made him so calm and peaceful. Maybe if he had slept like this every night he wouldn’t have been so short tempered.

Most of his clothes were lying forgotten in an angle of their tent, neatly folded.

She didn’t even realize she was staring at him, his tiny, immobile sleeping figure, his pink synthetical lips that were just barely pressing against each other, his relaxed brows, his smooth and perfect skin… yes, nothing could ever disturb his slumber…

“Mmgh… hah…” The puppet’s eyebrows started to furrow, and his body began to tremble ever so slightly. The traveler let out a sigh. Oh, she should have expected him to have nightmares. The wanderer was muttering something incomprehensible, so she got a bit closer, trying to make out what he was saying.

“D-don’t…”

Oh, here it comes. What will it be?

Lumine touched his shoulder, trying to wake him from his presumed nightmare.

Will it be… “don’t hurt me”? “Don’t betray me”? “Don’t abandon me”? “Don’t—”

“Don’t stop…”

Her eyes widened. If only she looked down a bit lower, a quick glance at the bottom of his tight bodysuit would have been enough to tell just how soaked wet he was.

In fact, at some point, during her attempts at waking him up, she somehow noticed the dark spot of wetness between his legs.

A subtle smirk crept onto the golden haired traveler’s face.

He looked so irresistible, and she couldn’t stop staring. She even forgot she was trying to wake him up.

The wanderer’s squirming and tossing around only increased in frequency, finally awaking him.

He blinked once. Twice.

“Were you having a dream?” Lumine enquired innocently.

“Not your business…” he replied, looking away so that she couldn’t see his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “How could you tell…?” He quickly added as soon as he realized he could have said or done something in his sleep.

“Call it intuition or whatever.” She shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell if someone’s dreaming if they keep making noise. Was it a bad dream? Or was it about what we discussed earlier?”

He shuddered, rolling onto his side. “Not. Your. Business.”

“I’m assuming it was?” The traveler challenged.

“I said it’s not your business.” The wanderer responded.

“How about you tell me—” He cut her off.

“How about you go to sleep and leave me alone?”

The traveler couldn’t help but chuckle at his defensive aggressivity. “Fine, fine. Goodnight Kuni.”

He didn’t say anything in response.

Lumine ignored him back and wrapped a warm blanket around herself, facing the other way. Not even a minute had passed when the wanderer softly called out to her.

“What is it?”

“Can we… share that?” He was pointing at the blanket.

“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re cold.”

“Shut up.”

She was right, actually. She always was. He was feeling as hot as he didn’t recall ever feeling, but for some reason he wanted Lumine to be close to him, and sharing a blanket was the only way he considered. There was no way he would explicitly ask her to come closer.

She sat up, scooted closer and pulled the blanket onto him. “Sleep well.” No response again.

She lied back down, on her side, facing away from him.

The wanderer was glad she couldn’t see him squeezing his legs together and rubbing his thighs against each other, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable, hot wetness that was only growing and growing between his folds. As it grew, he noticed he was starting to breathe, loudly— he just couldn’t help it. This feeling was too much, he wanted it gone. He didn’t even need to breathe, why did it feel so necessary yet so difficult right now?

He pressed his forehead against the nape of the traveler’s neck, making her chuckle quietly. Feeling her warmth against himself was somehow relieving, but it also made his body shake with desire and want.

He muffled a groan of discomfort by covering his mouth with his hand.

“Fuck… Lumi—”

“I’m still awake, you know. Do you need something?” She sleepily muttered.

“Ugh…”

“Won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” She insisted softly. “I can help you.”

The wanderer wanted it. So badly— but he still had his pride. He shook his head, even though Lumine was facing the other side and couldn’t see him.

She took his silence as a no, anyway. “… Alright. Goodnight again.”

“… ‘Night”, he replied this time, in a small voice. He was determined to let the overwhelming feeling go away on his own…

But a few minutes later, he couldn’t care less. He tapped her shoulder lightly, swallowed his pride and breathed out a whispery “… Help?”

The traveler sat up again, her golden eyes shining, as if she’d been waiting for that moment. She raised an eyebrow, looking at him and waiting for him to say something more.

To which the wanderer furrowed his brows and muttered something that sounded like “come on”.

“What do you want?” Lumine asked innocently, raising a brow.

“Stop talking and do something already!” He whined impatiently, forcefully grabbing one of her wrists and directing her hand to his abdomen, not daring to push it lower— maybe hoping she would do that herself. She smiled, running her fingers up to his chest instead. At her caress, his body relaxed against the thin mattress.

“Lower”, he demanded.

But she liked his chest too much to just leave it alone already. She put both of her hands to use; while one massaged his chest through his bodysuit, the other traced its way to his lower stomach, then even lower, then some more, until it was resting on his clothed sex.

As soon as he felt her touch, the wanderer inhaled sharply, his body tensing up. The hand that was caressing his upper body found a nipple and focused its attention on it, earning delicious moans from him and helping him loosen up some more. His eyes were glued to her as soon as she started moving her hand. She really was handling him with care. The combination of her touch and the embarrassment of the situation, of how she looked so serious and focused on him, was really getting to him.

The more Lumine rubbed his clit through the fabric, the more he felt the urge to strip off and expose himself for her. He struggled to remove his bodysuit, and the traveler lent him a hand as soon as she noticed. Once free of his clothing, he laid back down, putting himself on display. The traveler licked her lips.

He was completely flushed red from his face to his chest, his weakened arms resting above his head, his hardened nipples demanding more attention, his parting legs tempting her, his blue eyes silently begging her to touch him. So she did, and he whimpered imperceptibly when her hand made direct contact with his clit for the first time. Not feeling any friction, but only a somehow unsatisfying contact, he moved his hips closer to her, but much to his displeasure she withdrew her finger. He let out a soft cry. He was feeling so good, why did it have to stop already?

“Are you playing with me?” He whined, trying to sound intimidating. “If you’re only doing this to annoy me, might as well…”

He trailed off, observing her. She was giving her thumb a few licks, carefully wetting it before placing it on his engorged clit and moving in slow circles, as two fingers of her other hand held up the hood. To which the wanderer could only shut his eyes, throw his head back and let out a long “oohh…”, pleasantly surprised at just how good it felt.

He wasn’t used to this.

Her pointer finger slid down, passed his urethra and pressed against the slit. Her thumb was still working his clit, circling it at a steady pace. Feeling that she wasn’t speeding up, the wanderer complained in a breathy voice. “That’s… too slow.”

She gradually picked up the pace, lubing her finger with his juices to help it slide inside his hole. She looked at him. His eyes were tightly shut and his closed fists were grasping the blanket they were sharing earlier. She was being careful with her movements, afraid to hurt him. “Hey, Kuni. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”, she asked, slightly tilting her head to the side.

“Not of… my own will”, he responded through clenched teeth.

Oh.

That wasn’t completely unexpected.

The traveler removed her clean hand from his body to caress his cheeks.

“I’m… sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s… nothing, really.” He gave a nod of his head to signal her to keep going from where she had stopped.

She experimentally moved her finger, but he had gotten tighter. Thinking back about what happened had apparently made him tense up again. “I, uh… I don’t want to hurt you”, Lumine stated. He looked away. He knew it would hurt if she pushed inside him right now.

Sensing his anxiety, she straddled him and softly placed a kiss on his cheek. Her right hand lightly grazed the sensitive birthmark on his higher back, as she continued leaving kisses on his face. The wanderer made a little smile, and let out soft noises and hums of pleasure, while she showered him with affection by pecking his forehead, cheeks, and even the tip of his nose.

“My— my lips too.”

“Alright.”

Complying with his request, Lumine kissed him on the lips. His lips parted, letting her tongue in as soon as he felt it prodding his mouth. She adjusted her position so that her knee was now in between his legs, and he started to roll his hips against it immediately, moaning into her mouth. The friction felt so good on his clit, and now he just wanted more, more, more.

When their lips parted, Lumine kissed his neck, softly nibbling and sucking on it, relishing in the way he tilted his head back to expose his body even further, curving himself to get her to do more, every single cell of him screaming “take me, and do whatever you want to me”. And desiring nothing more than that.

She cupped his chest with both hands and gently fondled his porcelain skin. The wanderer was breathing heavily, completely lost in the feeling of the soft skin of his neck being marked by her mouth and his sensitive nipples being stimulated this delicately. His folds started to lubricate again as he rubbed himself against her leg, hips bucking furiously. His hands feebly grasped the traveler’s golden hair, trying to push her further onto his body. He guided her where he wanted her attention, and the traveler found herself licking and suckling on a nipple. His other breast, small enough to fit in her palm, savored the traveler’s caresses. He could feel something hot churn into his lower stomach. The feeling was slowly taking over his entire body, it was like a drug, and now he needed more.

“Lumine… it feels good, ahh…”

The traveler smiled against his skin. They were making progress.

“Lumine. I think I’m ready.”

“Mhm?”

“Yes. You… won’t need to go easy on me.”

“Well, I’m still going to make this as comfortable as I can.”

He smiled imperceptibly, nothing but pure love in his eyes. He gave a slight nod of his head to encourage her. “Come inside… Lumine.”

Her finger found itself back where it was earlier, circling the hole before slowly sliding in. Her body was moving on its own, as if it was on autopilot.

“N-ngh…”

She gradually pushed her finger deeper, observing his face to make sure it wasn’t too overwhelming for him. “Is this okay?”

The wanderer nodded frantically. This felt way better than he had imagined. “More… more…” he managed to squeeze out, his voice sounding broken and hoarse. “Go deeper…” He was sweating, so much so that his skin looked a bit shiny from the moisture.

“You’ve got to call me ma’am for that”, Lumine said.

“In your dreams. I’m not calling you that,” he mumbled.

She chuckled. “I wasn’t serious, dummy.” And as proof, her finger went deeper. The wanderer instantly forgot Lumine had been teasing him.

“Oohh… nnh… just like that…”

Encouraged, the traveler kept rubbing his inner walls with care, searching for that one spot that would have her Kuni crying out in pleasure.

The wanderer was lost in a trance-like state. His ocean eyes were unfocused and teary, and a bit of drool could be spotted at the corner of his mouth.

When Lumine’s skilled lips made contact with his clit, pressing a loving kiss on it, Kuni’s eyes went wide and he whimpered slightly in surprise. He lost his composure once again when she began to give it the softest kitten licks, sloppily throwing his leg over Lumine’s shoulder, making it easier to buck his pussy right into her mouth as she licked at his hardened clit.

“Haah… ma’am, feels so good…”

The traveler could feel blood rushing to her cheeks. And her crotch.

She was feeling like his pleasure was the only purpose of her life. She lapped up all the delicious juices that came out of him, her gentle licks turning into messy and frantic sucks.

And the wanderer, oh, he was long gone. Weakly holding Lumine’s free hand, occasionally squeezing it when he felt like the pleasure was too much for his body to handle, he’d never felt as good as he was feeling now. His head thrown back in heavenly bliss, resting on the blanket he had used to lie to the traveler and get this in exchange— oh, it’d been so worth it, he kept thinking. He would have done it again and again if it meant feeling the same pleasure he was feeling now.

The traveler was so gentle with him. Did he even deserve her gentleness?

“Kuni? Are you feeling alright?”

Warm juices trickled down her chin as she lifted her head from his crotch to make sure he was okay. Placing a hand on the underside of his thigh, she waited for his nod to start eating him out again.

“I’m feeling... a little more than alright.”

[brianwashere]

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests but if you are, can I ask for one, Batfam x vigilante!male!reader. The reader is a teen (younger than Tim and older than Damian). He’s like super smart and knows martial arts and is a total badass. The bat family has been trying to catch him for a year now. The reader just stopped a drug dealing, near the docks and was about to go back to patrolling but nightwing and Robin show up. They fight for a bit and robin kicks the reader in the water. The reader is exhausted too and passes out. Nightwing sees the reader not coming back up and dives in and rescues him. They take him back to the bat cave, put him in like a cell and the batfam starts questioning him. They find out he’s a kid and a orphan and ALSO knows who they are, bruce decides to adopt him (the reader and Robin not wanting that) but Bruce says something like since the readers just a kid and he already knows their identity, might as well adopt him and keep a eye on him. Thank youuuuu, I hope you can do this! Sorry if it’s a bit much <3

YIPPEE!!! First req in a long time :DD I had to churn this out in like two days so sorry if it feels rushed!

Ahahaha ignore that it’s 1:40 am

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from DC**

Pairing: Batfam x male!teen!vigilante!Reader

Genre: found family

Summary: go to req

Tw: brief mention of blood, almost drowning, mention of drugs and drug rings

It’s Called: Freefall

Being a vigilante in Gotham was easy. Easy if you were professionally trained in combat. Easy if you had the money to get every little convenient device you wanted.

Neither of which you were.

Both of which Batman and his posee of underlings were.

Sure you’d picked up what you could being on the street, fending for yourself, sneaking into dojos and boxing gyms to observe and practice later yourself. But in the end, you were just some kid trying to make your way in the vigilante scene. Which led you to the situation you were in currently.

You were crouched on top of two metal shipping crates staring down at the drug deal soon to take place. You squinted through the mixture of darkness and heavy rain. A new drug had recently hit Gotham’s streets and you intended to get your answers and drop the contraband by the police station.

You saw the seller take his position. You readied yourself but waited until the buyer showed up. You needed to be sure they actually had the drugs before you went down guns blazing, cracking skulls and kicking ass.

As soon as you saw the drugs leave the jacket you were on them, jumping from your hiding spot onto the seller, tackling him to the ground. The man yelped in surprise and pain while the buyer started running. You spared the buyer a glance, grunting in annoyance.

“Get the hell off of me you freak!” The seller yelled as you kneeled on his arms and back, pinning him to the ground and grabbing the dropped bag of substances. You sighed as he struggled under you.

“Where’d you get this?” You demanded, increasing the pressure on his back.

“None of your business!” He spat.

“Look, buddy. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way involves dangling from Wayne enterprises.” You said through grit teeth.

The man seemed to pale at the threat of heights.

“A-a ring leader…we just call him the boss. I swear that’s all I know!” He practically screamed.

“God what a cliché…” You grumbled to yourself, landing a swift blow to his head and knocking him out. You stood up and stretched, groaning.

‘Jesus—my back hurts.’

You brought the bag down to inspect it before shrugging and shoving it into your backpack. You’ll deal with it on the way home. You glanced back down at the unconscious drug hustler.

“Not your day today, buddy.” You said shaking your head.

Then you heard an abnormal sound in the white noise of the rain. A hard thunk on metal. You stilled. Were they really here? Had they searched for you specifically or did they get the same tip as you?

You tensed, preparing. Someone landed behind you and you whipped around to face them.

‘Nightwing.’

‘This is fine. I can handle him…. No. No I definitely can’t. Ok this is fine this is ok.’

“Ready to finally come quietly?” Nightwing flashed a smile.

You returned it with malice. “Never in a million years, boy wonder.” You laughed to yourself.

His smile faltered and he just shrugged.

“Well you brought this upon yourself.” He said and another person jumped down behind you.

You snapped your head in their direction.

‘Robin. The pipsqueak. Great.’

You backed away slowly from both of them, your eyes glancing back and forth between them. They both move at you suddenly. You jump back and dodge one attack from Robin, simultaneously throwing yourself into Nightwing—luckily it caused him to fumble. Your back hit the ground and you grunted in pain. Robin ran at you and you kicked him away from you.

The little caped rat was launched back, skidding to his knees before getting back into an offensive stance. You scrambled to your feet, taking a defensive position. You grit your teeth and glared at him, prepared.

The fight went on for what felt like hours, especially in a two against one.

You spat on the ground; your muscles ached. You saw the flash of red on the asphalt before the rain washed it away. That distracted you enough for Robin to kick you off the dock into the frigid water below.

The water swamped you all at once. The cold seemed to knock all the warmth from your body. You panicked as you sank further and further down, you were so tired. You just wanted to rest. You kicked and flapped your arms desperately but you didn’t feel in control of them. You couldn’t hold your breath anymore. The darkness pulled your mind further from consciousness and you passed out.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

C’mon, Nightwing.” Robin said to the dark haired man who was staring into the water.

“He’s not coming up.” Nightwing responded.

Robin looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow.

“So?” He asked indifferently.

“He’s in trouble.” Nightwing seemed to have made a decision in that answer.

“What does it—.”

Robin was cut off by Nightwint diving into the water.

“Dammit, Grayson!” Robin yelled after Nightwing.

About a minute later, Nightwing emerged.

“You’re an absolute idiot.” Robin spat at Nightwing, helping him back onto the docks with the young vigilante in his arms.

“He was gunna die.” Nightwing retorted.

“Great.” Robin started sarcastically. “Now, since you’ve saved him, you can drop him here and let the cops deal with him.”

“We’re not doing that, Robin.” Nightwing responded, tiredly.

“I don’t like what you’re suggesting.” Robin growled.

“Suggested? I didn’t even say anything.” Nightwing chuckled some.

“You’re implying we take him back to the cave.”

“He could have answers.”

“He’s a cretin. Not even worth the trouble.” Robin grumbled.

“Always glad to hear your opinions.” Nightwing said sarcastically, already heading back towards the Batcave.

Robin rolled his eyes and reluctantly followed.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You opened your eyes to blaring lights above you.

��God, what time is it?’

You rolled over to try and shield your eyes from the light.

‘Lights?’

You rubbed your eyes. You felt no mask. Fear spiked your heart. Memory of the drug pickup and fighting two of Batman’s sidekicks and passing out in the water flooded your brain all at once. You shot up and realized you were in a cell.

‘Oh no no no no no no—‘

You quickly stood up and stumbled. You managed to catch yourself on a glass wall.

“He’s awake, circus clown!“

You looked up to see the Red Hood pushing himself off a wall, looking very tired. Your eyes adjusted to the light as he walked to the front of the cell. No point in hiding your face, they’ve all probably seen it. Nightwing joined him, looking a little too pleased for your liking.

“The man himself gunna show up or did he leave his favorite to do his biding for him?” Red Hood asked. However, there didn’t seem to be much bite behind his words.

“I’ve been here, Red Hood.” Batman himself emerged from the shadows with Robin appearing from behind him like a lost puppy. A very…angry puppy.

Red Hood startled some at the sudden appearance, but recovered quickly. The gun wielding vigilante seemed to curse something at Batman but you couldn’t hear.

“Let’s not delay this anymore.” Batman spoke.

You swallowed. His gaze pierced through chest and saw right through you.

‘Start what?’

“What’s your name?” Batman’s voice was gruff.

“Like hell I’d—“ You started.

“Yo! Red Robin!” Red Hood called to the other other Robin somewhere out of your view.

Your full name, alias, and address was listed within the second. Your heart fell to your stomach and crawled back up again. Nausea punched your gut.

“Tell us all you know about the drugs and the ring relating to them.” Batman’s tone wasn’t aggressive, but you weren’t fooled. This was a command.

“Dunno anything…” You slurred out. Christ, you hurt everywhere.

“I don’t believe you.” He responded.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, you were lying but you just wanted to go home. To nap. Oh my god a nap sounded great right now.

“They call it amethyst. It’s a narcotic. It’s new but sweeping the streets fast. That’s all I know.” You grit out.

“Where are your parents, kid?” Batman asked.

“Don’t you know, since you apparently know everything?” You growled at him.

“I do. I just want confirmation from you.” He responded calmly.

“Six feet under at Gotham Cemetery. You can take up my behavioral issues with them. I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to hear about them.” You told him sarcastically.

Batman was quiet, thinking. Robin suddenly seemed to catch onto something.

“No! No! You’re not going to—!” He yelled.

Batman approached the cell and slipped off his cowl. Your eyes widened. You tried to speak but you couldn’t.

“You’re too young to be on your own. You’re younger than my second youngest. How’d you like to live with me and my family?”

You shook your head from you stunned state.

“What!” You gaped.

“No!“

“No!

Both you and Robin exclaimed in unison. Batman—who was apparently Bruce Wayne, by the way—smiled some.

“Seems it’s that or foster care.” He said, seeming to not even consider the possibility of putting you in foster care.

“You’ll fit right in.” Bruce Wayne seemed to find it amusing.

He typed a code into the keypad and the door opened. You blinked and stepped out hesitantly. The other three sidekicks were watching you. One with muted excitement, one with indifference, and one with outrage.

“I’ll get Alfred to set up a room for you. I’m sure you’re tired.” Bruce Wayne said.

Your head was still reeling. Sleep? That sounded more excellent than anything else you could be offered. You sighed. You shouldn’t start composing yet. You just got unofficially adopted by the richest man in the city. Things could be worse, right?

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 3)

My brain has gone on with this idea and I love where it is going. Yippee!

TW: Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery, Idol Worshipping

🎥 This has gone on long enough! In just a few weeks since that interview, the letters and pictures have increased tenfold! You keep finding Wally in the oddest of places, like on your desk, in the lounge, or even next to your locker. It constantly feels like eyes are watching you.

🎥 Even the contents of the letters are getting stranger. They were always odd and creepy, but at least before they had lighthearted words in them. Now they're saying things like "You're the air I breathe and all I see. You make my days better or worse. You keep me warm and keep this neighborhood bright! Please, never abandon me!" It's all written in that messy crayon writing, too, which makes an eerie contrast to the words that makes you sick. It seems so childishly unaware of how disturbing the words are when thought about for too long.

🎥 The drawings aren't much better. Nine out of ten times, they include you in some way. From the pictures just including you, including you and the characters from Welcome Home, to - worst of all, in your opinion - you in real life places. You sitting at your desk. You sleeping in the lounge. You getting a cookie at the snack stand during the interview. There's even one of you putting on your coat at the lockers. The drawings may not be the highest quality, but they are detailed enough to both be recognizable places and to alarm you.

🎥 You have an idea of who it might be. It's gotta be Wally's voice actor. They were his puppeteer before their arthritis kicked in. They just couldn't move their hands enough to properly puppet him anymore, always complaining that it hurt, despite the medications they took. But, the producer did decide to keep them as Wally's voice actor, saying that nobody could replicate his distinct laughter, tone of speech, and voice pitch. Despite this, Wally's voice actor was properly ticked and hated the fact they were replaced. They're always acting passive aggressive towards you. It must be them, probably to try to scare you away.

🎥 Today, you have decided to confront them. Marching over to their recording booth, you knock on the door. When they open it, they have that signature glare that would put even Frank's to shame. Before they can even ask what you want, you tell them all about what has been going on and how you know they have been doing it. They have to be behind it. All of these drawings and letters have Wally's signature writing and art style. The only person that knows Wally more than you is his voice actor. It HAS to be them!

🎥 They grow silent, before looking at the pictures and letters. Then, they look up at you and say, in the most matter of fact tone "I haven't been able to draw or write anything in character for a YEAR, (Y/N). What makes you think I would put myself through the pain of trying to replicate it after all this time, with my horrible joints, just to frighten YOU, of all people? You aren't worth my time, much less my comfort. You got any other evidence to accuse me of this... Whatever this is?"

🎥 You grow silent. To be honest, thinking back on it, it really is a stupid idea that they would do all of this to scare you. If they couldn't even muster up the energy to go out of their way to verbally confront you, then it would be shocking for them to put the effort to write and draw things to do so. You still have one more question, though...

🎥"What about the voice I've been hearing? It sounds just like Wally. You are his voice actor. You have gotta know something."

🎥 Their eyes grow wide. Then, they shrug "The one that has been saying things about... well, something. It's always a bit too muffled to hear exactly what it is. I thought you somehow improved your Wally impression and were practicing in order to replace me completely. Your impression may be off enough for the producers to care, but it was always the best one here. You're telling me you aren't the one making that voice?"

[skyuvu123]

He fall

[they-all-need-help-lmao]

E

Moon man ig

...

Ik he's rlly abusive and whatever but still

[notjustjavierpena]

Him

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Part 3 of Mean!Joel coming straight to ya. This is a big mishmash of emotions, I’m sorry, but something has to lead to part 4.

Summary: You find a dress during a supplies run but Joel doesn’t give a shit about you looking nice for him.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con and mentions of non-con, dirty talk, painful and rough PIV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, fingering, pussy slapping

Word count: 4.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/121494847

Him

There’s the distinct smell of mold and old basement in the abandoned apartment complex. Joel has told you to stay close to him, but as soon as he tells you that the place is clear, you wander off and he grumbles something about it being your funeral. 

“Only what’s necessary,” he had said on the way up the stairs, still clutching onto his rifle as if something could come out of the shadows any second despite your thorough investigation of the place.

You go through each room of your selected condo, but there is nothing interesting to be found. There had been a convenience store last week which had been picked over except for a few toothbrushes. You had given the toothbrushes to a couple of the kids back at Jackson, but still been bummed that you have yet to find something that you can take home just for yourself. Last month, some of the other women had found a box of old 2000s clothes and you had been disappointed at not having been there with them as they chose whatever they wanted. You are still empty-handed. 

That is, until now. 

In the master bedroom, you go through the clothes that whoever used to live here has left behind. It isn’t a particularly thrilling closet, but you think it almost feels like shopping as you push the hangers to the side along the metal bar one by one. Everything has been eaten by moths.

“Find anything?” Joel pops his head through the door, walks closer a second after to see what you are doing. He rolls his eyes, “Find anything of importance?”

You give him a pointed look, but he just returns it. 

“These are boring anyw—“ you stop at a garment that’s wrapped in a protective travel bag made of plastic. It makes you raise a brow, unzipping the front of the garment bag only to reveal a short, expensive-looking cocktail dress. You pull it off its hanger and hold it up in front of you, “I think this is my size.”

“Yippee,” he deadpans, but you see him glancing down at the garment and you hope that he is imagining you in it, “I said only useful things.” 

“You actually said necessary,” you remind him and he scoffs, shifts, and turns away from you. Anyone who witnesses your interaction will never guess that you are sleeping together, but you like the fact that you despise him outside of the bedroom. It makes it even more fun and satisfying when he finally gives in to come fuck you. 

You feel the satin fabric between your fingers. It’s in good condition, having been saved from moths by being packed away in a plastic garment bag. It’s a classic little black dress where the hem stops just above the knees and the slit in the side leaves just enough for the imagination. You hook your fingers into the spaghetti straps and watch the way the fabric falls around the chest area. It’s very simple and elegant, and nothing like anything you’ve ever owned, “I like it. I’m taking it with me.” 

“Whatever,” Joel says after a sigh.

You stuff the dress into your bag, determined to restore it to its former glory. 

*

Joel never tells you when he will stop by and you don’t ask in case it will come off as begging for his attention. Despite this, you have a hunch of his intention to have his way with you whenever he starts acting differently around you; looks at you whenever he thinks you aren’t paying attention to him, ravishing you with his eyes that get just a little bit darker than when he normally glances your way. 

Additionally, he gets more short-tempered with your never-ending snark, and you swear that today you could see his hand twitch by his side as if he was desperate to yank you away from the rest, itching to grab whatever he could in that moment even if it meant pulling you back to your place by your hair. It had really set your next encounter in stone when you’d called him a caveman without the others hearing. The rest of the day had been him fidgeting like crazy.

You know that he doesn’t realize these tells, because he’d never give you the satisfaction of having him figured out, but oh how you wish that his stupid, overly aggressive behavior is deliberate and all for you. 

You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror after sliding on the dress, knowing you’ll see him soon because he is a man of habit and you’re his vice. 

It is rare that you see yourself dressed up like this, but the butterflies that you feel in your stomach as you gaze at your reflection make you certain that Joel will like this in just the right way.

At that, the butterflies move down between your legs where you are not wearing anything to cover you. You dip your hand between your thighs, pushing the fabric inwards, and it over your mound. You try to tell yourself that you’ve skipped the underwear because it would be visible underneath the fabric of the dress, but you know the real reason is him. You hate yourself for hating him to the point where he floods your mind whenever he isn’t here. 

You want to pull the dress up over your hips, rub your clit that’s throbbing in anticipation, but instead, you just wait.

*

When your waiting comes to an end, you hear Joel violently open the front door downstairs, ripping at the handle and calling your name multiple times to which you do not respond. There’s always a game here; where it had started out being a real refusal of him, it has turned into something else. The moment he had made you come the first time, you knew there was no going back to what was before. Now, you enjoy the cat-and-mouse act where you want him to corner you. 

Joel looks tense and impatient when he steps into your bedroom, but he doesn’t say anything for you to read the tone of his voice. He is aggressively shrugging off his jacket, biting into a leather glove’s fingertip to pull it off his hand before moving to the other and doing the same. 

The gloves suggest that he has worked late today and not showered as you have, that he has taken his frustrations towards you out on hard labor but to no avail; he has still walked in here, too turned on to pass your house on his way home. 

His outerwear ends up on the floor beside him and then he stalks after you. He is hard in his jeans, his eyes cold and black with desire, and for some reason, you find yourself backing away just because he still hasn’t opened his mouth.

“Get the fuck back here,” he seethes. He grabs your arm and pulls, too fast for you as you try to take another step away, “Why didn’t you come when I called ya?”

“Sorry, I-I…”

“You come when I call. Full stop,” he traps you against your bedroom wall and doesn’t acknowledge the dress whatsoever. The hand on your arm slides up until it rests at your throat, squeezing without doing too much damage to your windpipe whilst he examines your face. He needs you to talk, “Do you understand?”

His nostrils flare whilst you nod frantically. The grip on your throat has you lightheaded, but you think that you might want it like this, to be just on the edge of getting tunnel vision so you can see only him. He looks beautiful like this, you think, angry like a God, but your thoughts are interrupted and you moan as he shakes you a little.

“Words, use ‘em, you fuckin’ bimbo.”

“Yes, I understand,” you croak, but he mustn’t think that you give in so easily. There are a million snarky comments to select from in your head, but he doesn’t give you time to choose your favorite when he makes you cough as he lets go of your neck.

“You needa take this stupid fuckin’ dress off or I’ll rip it to pieces. You know I will,” he growls, and you bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying something to spite him. Something to hurt his huge masculine ego and compare him to a Neanderthal. So much for looking nice for his pleasure. 

Additionally, so much for scrubbing the fabric of the dress you had found in the abandoned condo until your hands were raw. In the end, it doesn’t surprise you that he doesn’t give a damn because he hadn’t even been enthusiastic when you had shown it to him during your supplies patrol together. You’d hoped that it had just been because he hadn’t seen you in it.

With a sour expression, you yank at the straps and Joel lets out a condescending huff of a laugh as he watches. You slide the straps off your shoulders and down your arms until you can pull at the top of the dress to guide it down your body. When it reaches the swell of your hips, you wiggle your ass until it pools at your feet. Joel goes quiet at the realization that you’ve gone commando.

“You were prepared, huh? Easy fuckin’ access. All I had to do was just pull it up over your ass, but ya wanted me to find out like this,” Joel tuts, immediately placing a foot between your feet. Gross, you think to yourself at hearing those words but you also realize, with the way that your walls flutter in a delicious clench of your cunt, that you like gross. Joel holds a hand out, and you get ready for the worst, but he simply cups your whole mound in his enormous hand, “Filthy girl, I fuck you that good? So good you wanna be ready for cock like that?” 

All confidence seeps out of you in an instant, because fuck, he is touching you and you almost forget how much it turns you into a little obedient dog. You gasp and find yourself pathetically nodding in an aroused state that has taken hold of you so quickly that you are feeling dizzy. You think, perhaps, that it has something to do with how it felt the last time the two of you were together. You don’t think you’ve ever come so many times in a row, kicking your legs, crying and screaming in pleasure as he reveled in your painful oversensitivity. He had promised that it would hurt, and it did, deliciously, for several days afterward. You miss being able to have a reminder of him with every step you take.

You realize now that the dress probably came off as a laughable attempt at making him have his wicked way with you once more instead of pleasing him.

Pleasing him. 

Pleasing. Him.

Fuck.

Two thick fingers press into you and the ability to elaborate on the thought of wanting to do something nice for him disappears. Instead, you keen loudly and throw yourself back into the wall with a thump. He sinks his digits knuckle-deep into your sex, and it hurts because he doesn’t give you time to adjust. 

You furrow your brows, looking down at where the heel of his hand is pushing into your clit. You take what you can get to soothe the stretch of your pussy, grinding your hips into his palm with a mewl. Your mouth hangs open in an o-shape and you’re already panting for him, desperate to come as he harshly takes his annoyance out on your g-spot. His fingers are warm inside of you from the gloves despite how he has just come from the outside, and they drag deliciously outwards along your walls again and again. 

It makes you come with a soft cry not long after. He settles his fingers inside of your cunt as you clamp down on them, a gush of your arousal dripping down into his palm as you shake and try to hold yourself up. 

Joel laughs at the dazed look in your eyes when you come down. He thrusts his fingers inside of you once more without warning before removing them altogether, smirking at the gasp you let out from being empty so soon again.

“Joel.”

You don’t know why you’re saying his name, but it makes him go a little softer. He still has his hand between your legs, fingers slowly sliding back and forth through your slick folds. It feels good, your hips stuttering each time the pads of his fingers slip across your clit, “Ya want more, sweetheart? Tell me what ya want. Ain’t that hard to use your words.”

“I missed you,” you dare to breathe because it’s true. Although it’s not so much him as it is the way he makes you feel between your legs.

He brings down his hand on your pulsing mound and clit. It makes you nearly fall to your knees but he catches you, wrapping his strong arms around you as you slump against him. It’s the post-orgasmic sensitivity that’s making it hurt like you didn’t know it could, and suddenly you have tears in your eyes from the stinging heat the slap has left. You quickly blink them away because he spits abuse at you, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of making you come and then cry, “Shut the fuck up. Don’t give me any of that pussy shit.” 

It’s a weird contrast to being held, but you suppose that he can’t fuck you if you fall face-first into the wooden floorboards and earn yourself a bad concussion. You wouldn’t put it past him though, knowing he’d probably laugh at the gibberish that you’d blabber as you came on his dick without being able to recall it the next day. 

Joel carries you in his arms, drags your feet across the floor until he can throw you onto your bed. You lie on top of the covers and look at him with glazed eyes, watching him unbuckle his belt and shove his jeans down impatiently. He undresses the rest of himself in a hurry, showing little mercy for the flannel he is wearing as he nearly pops off its buttons. It seems like a chase to get to you, but Joel has no opponents, and he’ll never have any. 

“If ya can’t use your mouth for anything other than soundin’ like a little girl begging for my attention, then you might as well have it put to other use,” he says matter-of-factly. He kneels onto the bed then, crawls forward on his knees, and settles one on either side of your head. 

His dick impressively stands into the air, an angry red color to the head that begs for touch and threatens to drip with precome. It’s never felt more inviting to suck him off, even despite the obvious unease that you’d felt the last time that he had had his dick in your mouth. 

When the bead of precome finally becomes too big and slides down his length, you respond by greedily letting your mouth fall open. He slides the fat head past your lips. The girth of him already has your jaw aching, but you take him in as far as you can and use your fist for what doesn’t fit. Your wrist twists as you work him in unison with your mouth. 

You set up a slow pace, bobbing your head despite the knowledge of how strained your neck will be in the morning when you are lying down like this. The strain is worth it all though, because you earn a moan from him. It tells you exactly how you’re doing; it’s low and guttural above you. Your pussy screams for more. 

With your lips closed around him, you suck him off in earnest to get another reaction. You hollow your cheeks whenever you draw off of him, and whilst you’re at the tip, you run the flat of your tongue along the sensitive underside. 

Not that it should surprise you at this point, but no matter how hard you try to start slow and steady, Joel becomes enthusiastic about his own pleasure very quickly and it leaves very little empathy for you. He thrusts forwards, practically burying his cock down your windpipe and you immediately start to shed big, wet tears. 

“Fuck,” he moans quietly into the room. He stares down at you, one large hand cupping your cheek to hold you in place if you try to squirm away. Your tears slide down over the back of his hand, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Your whimper vibrates along his hard length as he starts using your throat. With his generous size, it’s hard to breathe without choking. The air simply won’t go down your lungs in the way this overwork on your body demands. It causes you to drool, slicking his dick as spit pools in your mouth. It begins to dribble down your chin, his balls smacking wetly against it.

You’re a complete and utter mess beneath him with your nose buried in his happy trail. You take his brutal stabs to the back of your throat in stride and relax your neck muscles to take him as far as humanly possible. 

His free hand curls around your hair. Occasionally, he pulls it instead of moving his hips. Your head swims, your tears flow and your throat continuously gags with obscenely wet noises. He is so noisy above you. It keeps focus on your throbbing clit instead of your pained jaw.

From his breathing, you can hear that Joel is getting closer to coming. He gets a little louder, hips stuttering and dick pulsing just a bit more on your tongue. He suddenly pulls back with a force that tells you that he has used every fiber of self-restraint to do it. You didn’t think that his caveman behavior would make him able to edge himself.

“Shit, that was too close,” he grits out between pants, moving back on you again until he is between your legs. He squeezes around the base of his cock whilst you cough violently. 

“Can’t handle a little deep-throating?” You tease hoarsely.

“Fuck you,” he snaps, mercilessly pulling your legs apart by reaching behind himself and grabbing your ankles. He digs his nails into your legs as he slides his hands upward again, smacks one of your thighs aggressively, jiggling the flesh after.

“Yes, please,” you moan at the tiny sting he has caused to your upper leg, “Please, Joel. Fuck me.” 

“Turn around,” he commands. 

“But I wanna see you,” you start but it sounds way too sugary, “-r face when you come inside me.” 

“Yeah? Well, I don’t wanna see ya,” he says with little affection, drawing a circle in the air, “Do as you’re told and turn around. I can leave if—“

“No!” You protest a little too quickly. It earns you a smug smile that tells you Joel’s ego has grown three sizes in a mere second. God, you despise how needy he makes you. 

You move onto your front, lying flat on your belly. You turn your face to the side, grabbing at whatever of the sheets you can curl your fingers into. Joel shuffles behind you, reaches for your hips to angle your pelvis and you help him by bending your knees and pushing your legs out to the sides. 

Suddenly, his crushing weight is on top of you so he can whisper filth in your ear and keep you on the verge of insanity as you wait for him. You let out a soft sound as air is knocked out of your lungs and you feel like your pelvis might snap in half. It helps that his lips attach to the space where your neck meets your shoulder, biting more than sucking. 

“Gonna make ya cream yourself on my dick, honey,” he promises with confidence in his voice, still high on his ego trip from before. Your body responds with several somersaults in your lower abdomen, your pussy clenching at its emptiness and demand for more.  

“Oh fuck, Joel, n-need you to make it hurt… till I can’t breathe, baby.”

“Yeah?” He stretches again, gets comfortable on his knees, and jiggles the flesh of your behind before smacking your ass hard. He spreads your cheeks to spit down the cleft of your ass, watching it run down over your puckered hole and further down over your pussy. It earns you a groan, “This pussy is so ready for me. Look at it drippin’.”

Then you feel him pushing into you with brutal force until you can do nothing else, but mewl weakly. It feels like he is splitting you open right down the middle of your lower body, rough hands holding you in place by your waist.

He never fails to give you exactly what you ask for. Even despite this, you put on a show of trying to crawl away from him and you’re rewarded by another hard slap to your ass. Joel moans as it makes you clench around him. 

“You stay right here where I want ya,” he growls, setting up a rhythm that makes you want to sob. He is bruising you to the point where your eyes water, filling you to the brim with every thrust and slamming the fat head of his cock into your front wall where his little favorite spot is. When you whine loudly and wantonly, he laughs darkly, “Greedy little whore. You’re fucking shameless, ain’t you? Don’t even try— fuck. You don’t even try to hide how much you want it.” 

“Yes, fuck Joel, keep going,” you egg him on as your g-spot is getting the treatment it needs to make you scream. You arch your back a little by lifting your head from the mattress, and Joel takes it as an opportunity to slide his right hand around the front of your throat until he can contort your body to accept each hard thrust without slipping away. 

The new angle makes you grip the sheets so hard that you think you might tear the fabric. Fuck it, you think, they’re old ones anyway, and with the way that you are gushing around Joel’s dick, you think you might just throw them out after this. There’s no way you’re going to give them the same treatment as the dress if no one will appreciate it.

Joel’s hand moves up to cup your whole jaw. His other hand is bound to leave a mark on your hip bone, bracing himself on it as he pounds you until he can feel tears run down over the fingers on your chin. He kisses your back, slides his tongue up to your shoulder where he plants a wet kiss. It helps with staying focused and soothes you a little as he relentlessly moves inside of you. 

He tilts your head back afterward, moves his hips a little forwards without slipping out to tower over your body. His thumb drags down on your chin, leaving your mouth a little open.

And then he kisses you for the first time ever, right on your open mouth whilst bottoming out over and over inside of your cunt right where you need him the most. You melt into his lips, delirious with pleasure that’s sending you closer to the edge and pain that’s going to linger for a few days. 

But it’s neither the pain nor pleasure that unravels you in his arms. It’s the fact that you are being allowed something so intimate from him, causing tears to spill as he tears down the pleasure that he’s built inside of your belly. You come with a feeble sob, clamping down on his cock which feels bigger now that your cunt is quivering with pleasurable shocks. 

It’s too much for him. He thrusts a few times more before his hips stutter. He buries himself inside your pussy, the tip of his dick nudging your cervix. You feel his warm load fill you up, wet squelches echoing through your quiet bedroom as he fucks you through his aftershocks. 

Your thighs are aching, your fingers too. Your cunt is a whole other story, painfully sensitive as he pulls out with a moan and rolls off of you. 

It doesn’t matter. Absolutely none of it matters. Not a single fucking thing matters besides the way that he is pulling you down onto his chest, still kissing you on the lips, roughly in the beginning, but slowly now that his energy is spent.

After a while, he starts to move. 

“No,” you whine, “Stay. Please.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles, “That ain’t how this works.”

He leaves ten minutes later, but you ache more from heartbreak than the bruises that have started to form on your skin.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[hp-hcs]

Am I requesting again because I love your fics? Yes yes I am AND IM NOT SORRY. Theo x ftm Reader (but like reader is Pansy’s brother ^3^) I feel like this HAS POTENTIAL but if you want to completely make ur own storyline be my guest because I trust you more than I trust my brain ٩( ᐛ )و

oHOHOHOH YIPPEE DW BABE I GOTCHU

also i’m on a yandere fix rn (if you couldn’t tell by the literally everything i’ve written these last few weeks) so uh, sorry if that was not what you were envisioning 🥲

requests. please. i beg of you. 🙏

Pansy’s Brother (Chapter One) — yandere! theodore nott x ftm! parkinson! reader

WARNINGS: aggression, stalking, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, enzo berkshire bashing (done by theo)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You bite your nails nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. Your sister must notice, because she gently pulls your hand away from your mouth, smoothing down your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

“They’ll love you, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

“Enz’ll be there?” You ask softly.

A faint blush settles along her cheeks. “Y-yes. Lorenzo will be there,” she says in an oddly formal tone, clearing her throat in a very inconspicuous manner. “Ahem. But that’s not important. Um. Anyways. Stop laughing. Put your tie on, we’re going to be late.”

You snicker once more. “Sure, not important.”

She swats your arm lightly. “Dickhead. Hurry up.”

“Oi, Panz, chill out. I dunno how to tie a bow tie.”

She watches you fumble for a minute before rolling her eyes and smacking your hands away. “Stop, this is painful to watch.”

You pout as she takes over, deftly tying the perfect knot. “How do you know how to tie a bowtie?”

“Because I dated Draco for three months. Stop moving.”

You fake gag. “Ew. How was that as an experience?”

“Awful. It was like dating my honorary older brother,” she dramatically shudders, looping her arm through yours as you two begin your long walk to the Great Hall where the Yule Ball is being held.

“Hey, I thought I was the only brother you were allowed to have!” You gasp, mock-offended. “Besides, it couldn’t have been that bad. He’s… uh, conventionally attractive, I guess..?”

“No way, it was terrible. It’d be like if you started dating Enzo.”

“Ew!”

“Exactly.”

~~~

Honestly, Theodore Nott had no idea what to expect when Pansy said that her little brother would be coming to the Ball and that she’d like to introduce him to everyone.

But he certainly wasn’t expecting the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen, holy Circe?

The Parkinson siblings stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, Pansy dressed to kill in a green satin dress with a risqué slit that went a little too high, in Theo’s opinion. The boys next to him were all but drooling.

“Who’s going to tell Crabbe and Goyle that Panz doesn’t even know they exist?” Mattheo leans in to whisper with a sly grin.

“Not it,” Theo snickered, observing Pansy with respectful, but distant, interest.

She really was stunning—but it was in the same way that sunsets and fireworks are stunning. Beautiful, but purely in an aesthetic way.

Following a half step behind her, a rather timid figure followed. Pansy navigated her way through the crowd, presumably her brother trailing along behind her.

She stopped in front of the boys, waving with a friendly grin. “Hey, guys! This is Y/N. Y/N, these losers are Theodore and Mattheo, and obviously you already know Enzo,” Pansy introduced, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her brother, Y/N, straightened when his sister said his name, an odd gleam in his eye and look of relief on his face that Theodore couldn’t quite figure out. He held out his hand with a rather charming grin, the meek boy from before now exuding confidence as he shook each of their hands.

Theodore shook his hand when Y/N reached him, surprised by how dainty Y/N’s hand felt in his. Y/N made up for it, however, with a firm grip and a charismatic smile that made Theo’s stomach flip.

The Parkinson boy wore a well-tailored three piece suit that accentuated his build. It was the same shade of green as his sister’s dress, but the vest was a nice tawny tartan tweed, with shiny brown shoes to match. His expensive cufflinks sparkled under the candlelight, and his dark gray bow tie brought out his eyes.

Y/N Parkinson looked fucking hot.

Theo’s reverie was interrupted by laughter and Enzo’s voice saying, “You look handsome as hell, Y/N.”

Y/N grinned, a faint blush on his cheeks. Enzo laughed and slung his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders in a friendlier-than-‘we-just-met’ way.

Theo’s gaze broke away from where he was ogling the boy, snapping over to his friend.

How the fuck did Enzo Berkshire already know this hot guy?

A lick of white-hot jealousy flared through him. Enzo wasn’t even that cute! And he was dumb! Theo was way smarter!

He saw the way the youngest Parkinson smiled at Enzo, all teeth, and felt his blood practically boil with rage. One word kept floating about his head, from the second he lay eyes on his friend’s little brother.

Mine.

~~~

“So…Theo was looking at you a lot.”

“He was?” Your head snapped upwards and your eyes lit up as you thought about the pretty brunette with the dead eyes and the overall talk-to-me-and-they’ll-never-find-your-body demeanor from last night.

“Yep. He also kinda like, threatened my life once you left,” Enzo shrugged, splitting off half of his licorice wand and handing it to you. “Dunno why.”

“He didn’t say?”

“Nope. Although I kinda sort of maybe got the impression that he’s got a… oh, what’s the word? big fat humongous crush on you. Not that it’s obvious or anything.”

“Ah. Not a man of subtlety, I take it?”

“He’s been watching us since we sat down,” Enzo said through a his teeth behind a fake smile.

“Wh-”

“Don’t turn around. Bitch, what are you doing- I just said- fuck it. I give up,” he throws his hands up in exasperation and sits back in his chair.

You scan the occupants of The Three Broomsticks, seeing no one acting out of the ordinary. You sigh and turn back to your irked friend.

Enzo rolls his eyes at you. “Dumbass.”

“Dipshit.”

You both grin at each other.

On the other side of the room, tucked underneath the deep hood of a thick winter cloak, Theodore Nott simmered with rage.

~~~

“Thanks for walking me back. I’m pretty sure Pansy would kill me, and then you, if I got lost or something,” you take another sip of your butterbeer as the two of you trek back to the castle, the dusky sky bathing you both in a faint glow and making the biting snowflakes in the air shine like tiny crystals.

“Yeah. Speaking of Pansy…” Enzo trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, you can date her. No, I won’t go but-she’s-my-sister-and-I’m-her-brother apeshit on you.”

He gapes at you. “You knew?”

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. Anyone with eyes could tell that you like her, and she likes you right back. Go ask her out, coward.”

“Fuckhead,” Enzo retorted, giving you a tiny grateful smile.

~~~

Theo watched from afar with barely-contained jealousy. The pair was too far away to clearly hear, and the snow underfoot crunched too loudly for him to move closer, so Theo was stuck.

A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of snowflakes into his face, and he made a face at the unpleasant chill. With the wind, however, carried a voice.

Your voice.

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. A…” your voice trailed off as the wind died down, becoming indistinct again.

Theo snapped.

No. No. No. No, you weren’t allowed to say things like that to other boys. You weren’t even allowed out with other boys. You were his, and Theodore had waited far long enough.

It was time for him to take back what was rightfully his.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

[nuclearloop]

I'm really good at remembering to share things here

Been re-cooking and oooolder character to use for my frenzy ending run, and she turned into an ex-finger maiden, Rhian (hilariously her OG name is Ranni which, would be a lil awkard now in an Elden Ring setting LOL...)

Info dump under the cut...feel free to send questions if anyone's curious for more I feel like talking about her now

As a child Rhian was a refugee among a small group who sought the shores of Limgrave for safety, and unluckily their camp was raided by a small Demihuman Frenzy Cult (kinda inspired by the flame of frenzy village on the Weeping Peninsula where a good bunch of demihumans lurk nearby)

Her people were subjected to the Frenzy Flame or otherwise outright slaughtered, but Rhian and a few other captives were to be set up for a special kind of sacrificial ritual.

Rhian is touched by the flame, but the ritual is interrupted by a noble house that was headed toward Castle Morne who intervene and save her before the worst happens and they take her back home with them to figure out what to do with her.

The Tylluan noble house is newly established in Liurnia, made up of a family of Tarnished whose youngest daughter, Ewin, has been called by grace. They pretty much make this their entire personality from then forth, and with the coming of Rhian (and her and Ewin getting along quite nicely) it was an obvious sign this was destiny written out clear and true for the girls.

From then on Rhian is raised adjacent to the noble house through their own church to begin her life toward the honorable duties of serving as Ewin's finger maiden. She doesn't know how to feel about this, but is obviously indebted to their kindness...right?

As they grew up alongside one another, lovingly raised into their destinies by House Tylluan, Rhian and Ewin became close friends

...with a little "it's complicated" sprinkled in....

They get close, perhaps by obligation (or rebellion) to their role as tarnished and maiden...or maybe they really did enjoy the other's company in a lonely life that has been planned out for them.

Rhian gets comfortable in her role as finger maiden and accepts, even welcomes, her duties in assisting Ewin to become Elden Lore and restore the lands between (for House Tylluan yippee)

It eventually is revealed, however, the true Destiny a maiden must uphold if her tarnished is to become Elden Lord...the final act of burning your maiden, to burn the thorns away at the mountain top, to gain access to the Erdtree.

Despite their bond, Ewin seems to agree to this, albeit solemnly, and just like that the veil is lifted.

Betrayed, terrified, and angry, Rhian rejects this and escapes.

A spark had lit, one that had been germinating quietly within her as she grew into a lie where safety and love was nothing more than a fabrication of her way of life. She had been rescued from a fate of slaughter, only to be raised like the finest livestock for an even more grandiose slaughter.

Perhaps that Spark within her was right. The one she pushed deep down when her ruminating doubts pillaged her mind. The one that occasionally surfaced when it all seemed wrong. Too good to be true.

Perhaps it truly was unfair. To live is to suffer, after all. But it could stop. It could all stop for good...no more suffering.

That spark, that fear and pain in this poor soul whose life was ripped from her for selfish means, since becomes a distant light. Rhian follows it, seeks it like an old friend. Wears that friend on her shoulder, the one friend who gets it.

To live is to suffer. But it's her life now.