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bunglegaydogs · 9 months

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ch. 109 spoilers!

bro i know okay i KNOW that one order has been released, atsushis about to get apparently fucking feasted upon, aku's possibly helping aya, I KNOW ALL OF THIS.

BUT MY HEART IS HURTING FOR MY FUCKING BOYS IN MEURSAULT

I'm not going to analyse it. But FUCK am I going to analyse it.

I'm literally just going to be chatting pure unadulterated shit through this because my head's still reeling and i was listening to THIS FUCKING PLAYLIST WHILST READING IT https://open.spotify.com/playlist/65Jdag9jXO4aE3HWOLHXTN?si=f53cd9f37f554146 I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING MY SKK ANGST AND REMEMBERED THE CHAPTER WAS OUT, AND THEN I GOT FUCKING SLAPPED ACROSS THE FACE AND SPAT IN THE MOUTH AND I WAS LISTENING TO THIS FUCKING PLAYLIST WHILST READING AND THEN WHILST SCROLLING THROUGH EVERYONES POSTS ITS HELL AND IM STILL FUCKING LISTENING LMAO

Literally, my thoughts throughout the whole chapter were "what the fuck" on different levels/degrees, and by the end of it, I was in shock and then it all hit me about five minutes ago lmao.

SO I'M JUST GOING TO RUN THROUGH THE CHAPTER BC WHY NOT BRO I NEED AN OUTLET I'M WAY TOO FUCKING EMOTIONAL FOR THIS RN

So, first off ofc

FUCKING SIGMA?

Guys dw I don't think he's dead; it's the information overload. Also, I'm not just saying this bc I'm in denial (ahem ahem) but genuinely because I don't think Sigma was shot with a fatal wound; and he touches Dostoevsky and automatically he's not dead. Fyodor's ability is seemingly able to kill people upon immediate contact. (Which is probably why he made Sigma's ability also through touch idk man lmao) And Sigma is not dead !!! (fucking praying) it's genuinely just the sheer amount of information he received from Fyodor; that shit was a LOT. He inquired about EVERY SINGLE SECRET that he had; bro, this is fucking Fyodor that we're talking about; that's a long-ass list. Anyways, so I genuinely just think it's like what happened to Atsushi; Sigma's ability is to take information from people, so he's a lot more used to an influx of info in his mind than Atsushi is; however, this was a shit ton of info for him to take in, it's going to take a while to process all of that. (Also his first thought being to tell the Agency AH I can't- also does this mean that Fyodor's plans maybe involve the Agency even more? Man I don't know lmao)

Next, Aya is so slay I hate her dad fr fr lmao xoxo She's so important to the story and I love it. Also, convenient hole there Akutagawa. Anyways xoxo so, we see a lot of humanity still emanating from Aku, so this is very good.

So, now uhm. We're onto Dazai's arrival! 🤠

WHAT THE FUCK

Even his first line after being gone a couple chapters is literally fucking gay as shit.

"Aah. I've imagined this scene thousands and thousands of times. Although, in my day-dreams... the roles are reversed."

MOTHERFUCKER WHAT

I was so caught off guard when he said this

Asagiri really just outed this mf xoxo

Bro's daydreaming about Chuuya? And just admits it as a passing thought?

Okay bub.

Also, the "...Well? Come at me, Chuuya."

Why's Chuuya hesitating in the first place? Fyodor told him to go and kill Dazai. He's now seen Dazai, and just isn't doing anything, he's just standing there. And Dazai's just taunting that mf.

"Try and amuse me with your lame-ass punches."

Right, now, I don't know about you, but this really doesn't sound very Dazai to me. I don't know, it was my first thought upon reading it. Like yeah of course he'd mock Chuuya; but has he ever called him weak? And like I don't know just the phrasing doesn't sound like him. Also, his shit-eating grin just makes me piss. Also, the fact that this gets a reaction from Chuuya like it would if he were human. Instead of acting on Fyodor's orders, he goes to punch Dazai after being provoked; also, I don't know about you, but a punch from Chuuya, no matter how hard he hits (he can't use gravity also) wouldn't kill Dazai. Chuuya is going to punch Dazai out of anger and infuriation at him mocking him; not because Fyodor has ordered him to.

ALSO, we don't see Dazai's face here, and he's not smiling anymore, but also he isn't moving away from Chuuya? I don't know maybe I'm dumb lol.

Also, another thing?

"Back up and put him down."

Like, dog connotations between SKK are fucking rampant, Dazai always calling Chuuya his dog, etc. The phrasing here gets me interested lol.

Then the "...Darn." from Dazai. What's with the pause? Idk, maybe I'm just overanalysing lol.

I'm sorry but Chuuya slays so hard here.

Anyways.

The sigh.

What's with the sigh? Any right-minded person (considering that it's Dazai we're talking about, maybe not the best phrasing) wouldn't just sigh when they have a gun pulled on them? Also, what the fuck is with the gun being so bright or smoky I can't tell?

BRO HE'S BEEN SHOT AND HE'S STILL ACTING GOOFY AS FUCK WHAT 💀

It doesn't sound like Dazai! It really really doesn't, not to me at least. But I'm probably just mega delusional. Just the, "Where the hell were you aiming, you god damn clutz?!" If you showed me that line and asked me to guess which character said it before I read this I guaran-fucking-tee you I would not have said Dazai. Maybe it's code, I DON'T KNOW BUT I FUCKING WISH I DID. Maybe he's like telling Chuuya where to aim...? I DON'T KNOW I'M SORRY. Also, mans looks absolutely PISSED but it's fine bc he's hot xoxo ALSO SORRY I ONLY JUST REALISED HE SAID SHIT LMAO As long as I've read this manga I have never ever known Dazai to swear, except that one panel that always makes me giggle when they're having their counselling session and he just goes "What the fuck." but idk if that was the real like actual translation lol. Also, after getting shot in the shoulder, nobody fucking shouts "OOOUUUUCH!" Bro's actually so goofy, it's not real. Idc, I'm fucking clutching at straws of course I am, but this is some act. He's literally had his bones broken by Chuuya at fifteen years of age when he stepped on his wrist and snapped it, he's been tossed around like a goddamn ragdoll, he's been shot by Fyodor's sniper, stabbed by Shibusawa and stabbed by Gab; all times he has never had this reaction, and those were near-fatal wounds, two of them actually killing him. Also, nobody says "That hurt!" After getting shot, come on now.

THE FUCKING IMMEDIATE SWITCH UP.

Going from shouting and screaming in pain and anger to utter silence and a calm look on his face at having a gun pressed to his head by his partner. Also, idk if Chuuya's actually touching his head with the gun; if he is, however, then I'm sure that will nullify the vampirism I THINK. In the fifteen LN, they defeat Randou and the old boss by Chuuya wrapping streamers around himself and hiding it underneath his clothes whilst Dazai held onto it from the other end of the room, and the streamers protected him from Randou's attacks, I THINK. And I THINK that this may mean if the gun touches Dazai's head, then maybe...? I really don't know, I'm clutching at mega straws here but it's just what I thought when I first read it.

Also, what does Fyodor mean by the "With this... there's no need to worry." About what? Dazai, like, having an extra plan? I really don't know.

Then this motherfucker sighing for the SECOND TIME WITH A GUN POINTED AT HIM? Like sorry that this is such an inconvenience??? Maybe you should be a little bit more worried? Also his dead-ass fucking look makes me piss.

Anwyays, my next thought is just why he's commentating the situation; Chuuya is here. He knows. He's the one holding the gun. Dostoevsky is watching on the cameras, he knows. He arranged this shit. Dazai knows. He's got the fucking gun pointed to him. So, why is Dazai just announcing what's happening? Also, of course his shoulder's going to hurt? You've just been shot babes. And once again, the "This is the god damn worst!" He's cussing an awful lot, which is actually shocking for him to be honest. But if we do decide to go down the route of he actually has no plans left and is genuinely just left for dead, then that's lowkey valid. But this is Dazai we're talking about bro. Also, the "And I'm gonna lose to Dostoevsky." Is he trying to get Fyodor to be like "Ah, he knows I've beat him." Hm. It's like pandering lol. "And as if that weren't enough, I'm being killed by Chuuya!" He's very expressive rn lmao. Anyways, who is he voicing all of this to? I don't know. OH WAIT ANGO? FUCK WAIT LMAO OKAY SORRY.

So, I remembered the other day that Dazai, despite Ango not being able to communicate with him, can still communicate with Ango. So, pretty much, has he relayed everything back to Ango? And Ango knows what's happening right now? Hm.

Anyways, if that's just irrelevant, then who is he just chatting to? I don't know man he's wild lmao.

"Looks like you're all out of plans."

He's very smug. Cocky. If you did see my other post about that being his downfall, you know what I think about this lmao. He's so sure that he's won, he knows that he's finally, after all this time, bested Dazai. However I just simply don't think that that is true.

AH, SEE. THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING BEFORE!

He leans into the gun. Also sorry he's just so pretty. Anyways. The thing about Harukawa is that Harukawa enjoys telling emotions, stories and psychological states through the character's eyes. And, said that though he wasn't going to disclose which character, there was one character whose eyes were devoid of highlights when they were showing their true self; whilst Dazai looks mighty determined here, and his words are true, he's got an act going on. But also, his eyes are genuine. They're determined, and they're real. I can't explain lol anyways. Onto the main fucking attraction here.

"Chuuya. Come to your senses. Our fate will not end in a place like this. Because you and I are destined to-"

HM? HM? Genuinely, I was so taken aback at this part, I was in fucking SHOCK. Fellas, is it gay to talk about your fate with your partner who you daydream about, every day and night, for the past seven years, and say that you're destined to do SOMETHING before it gets cut off and said partner shoots you in the head?

"Our fate will not end in a place like this."

He knows how destined they are, the sheer trust they place in each other, all of it. They both fit perfectly together, no matter how many jagged and sharp edges they have. Also, reminds me of when Dazai was messing with Chuuya at the Lovecraft fight and Chuuya says "You're not dying in a place like this!" Anyways. I just... this scene fucking. Aeugh. I'm broken. I feel ill. I'm going to throw up, and bash my head against the walls and start screaming and going absolutely ape-shit and feral and wild bro. I swear to fucking God, just a couple of words and Asagiri has already restored my writer's block. In just a panel or two, my heart's fucking broken and I'm already feeling every emotion under the sun; this is the effect of their relationship together. You don't know how to feel about it, but you know exactly what you feel about it. Anyways, sorry.

Once again, what the fuck is he shooting him with, a goddamn flare gun? Why's that shit so bright?

Is that enough blood for a gunshot wound to the head? Is that the appropriate face that someone makes? Too many questions. He just looks mildly surprised.

Oh to be honest, I only just saw that he shot him in the other fucking shoulder. Also, see how much Dazai moved forward to shuffle closer to Chuuya lmao. That's got to be important, right?

Anyways. Showing just the slight amount of blood and the top of his head, hm. Idk man lmao. Something seems suspicious. Something smells fishy.

Going back to this scene real quick, Chuuya is looking awfully human when Fyodor says "Stop." don't you think? Anyways.

Okay, forgive me; he shot him twice after he shot him in the head. He's shot him in his other shoulder and in his side?

Hm.

Not both Sigma and Dazai's "final sentences" being cut off. Hm. Also, once again, Chuuya looking more human than he did before. When we first saw him with Fyodor, mans was fucking SWEATING and going feral, growling and shit. And, I can't lie. The, "I've been... looking forward to th-" Who's to say that he is actually talking about dying? Bro said the same thing when he got stabbed by Shibusawa and Gab. And he knew he'd be coming back both times.

But, something I will say; I can most definitely agree that Dazai does look very dead in his eyes. That I can most definitely say.

LMAO I just got the most random ass theory in my head; what if Chuuya turned that time-stopping girl into a vampire and she's using her ability for something LMAO THAT'S FOUL my brain is actually so dumb.

He's smug. He's cocky. He has seen him be shot and thinks that he's won. But again, I just can't believe that Asagiri would do that; I know he has the balls to do it, but is it beneficial to the story for Dazai to die? There are too many unanswered questions, too many routes that this could stray down if he does. What about the Agency? What about Atsushi and Aku? What about Chuuya? The PM? Ango? Not to be all "Dazai cannot die he's too important" but yeah, I am going to be all like that. Anyways lol. My point was that the "goodbye" here, MAYBE this is "Operation Goodbye" coming into play. I WILL STAND BY THIS THEORY UNTIL MY FUCKING GRAVE. Which will be a very early one depending on the outcome of the next fucking chapter. But yeah, maybe this is the reason it's called that, and Chuuya will hear this, or even Dazai, and it's like a signal. Also, fuck off if you think that I'll believe Dazai is dead; he got shot in the head at point blank, and still had the energy to smile and be like "Aw yeah I love this" like bruh. Also, maybe Chuuya shot Dazai in the side and the shoulder before and after he shot him in the head so that Fyodor thinks "Oh, he's definitely dead." And Dazai has made sure that the second round in that gun is a blank or it's fucking paint and he replaced it fucking ages ago, whether with the time-stopping ability or he gave Chuuya the gun before he ever even GOT into Meursault, bro I really don't know. I'm sticking by my paint theory and that the bullet in that specific magazine thing is a little paintball. Dazai can literally canonically send himself into cardiac arrest and come back out of that; he did it to Atsushi in 55 minutes when Atsushi scared him. Anyways.

Not him being in a different position then he actually "dies" in man. LMAO what if this shit is Poe's novel? Anyways.

He dies with one leg folded and one stretched out, arms at his sides.

In the camera footage looking one, we see him with both his legs folded and like almost cross-legged with his hands clasped together inside his legs, the same when Aya is pushing the table. Me when I move after I die, what? Also, how come the other bullets went through his body, but the bullet shot through his head just didn't? I'm sure we've seen people get shot in the head in this series before and if we haven't, I'll be very fucking shocked. But anyways, either way, I can guarantee you they all would have/will have died instantaneously. This motherfucker is just chilling, laughing and talking about how fucking glad he is as he's dying. Bro. Anyways. Long story short, Dazai is not dead and he's a cunning little shit and I'm telling you now that that fucking magazine, that one bullet round was a paintball bullet thing. Idk man. I'm not having this motherfucker die now after this long and so many almost-confessions to his fucking partner bro.

Also, the black around Chuuya's eyes is easing; it's lesser. And also I said this as soon as I saw him, but he doesn't have the veins under his eyes anymore. He just looks a lot more human than he did before.

Also, yeah uh. One Order is fucking me up bro fr. I hate Fukuchi man, just bc you're bitter, king. Also, I find it very... interesting, that when Aya is going "Fall! Just fall!" It shows us the three generations of Double Black, all in equally precarious situations.

Dazai, having been almost drowned/set on fire/suffocated/poisoned, ALSO THE LETHAL POISON THAT IS IN HIS AND FYODOR'S BODIES, WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH THAT? LMAO. Anyways, so, Dazai, having been almost drowned/set on fire/suffocated/poisoned, then fell in an elevator and literally almost died as he apparently crawled through the hallway or something, then got shot in the shoulder by Chuuya, only to be apparently shot in the head and killed and shot in the side and the other shoulder. Maybe the bullets are antidotes lmao anyways. So, Dazai, apparently dead. Fukuzawa, having his throat sliced and also apparently, supposedly dead. Atsushi, not supposedly dead, but supposedly about to die, and is certainly in a dangerous situation; someone mentioned on a post I saw before that they feel as if this is building up for the three SKK generations working together, and I agree! Mori hasn't really been seen much; I feel as if he's going to turn up soon. Aku is of course going to either die after Aya rips the sword out or HOPEFULLY just go back to being human; same with Chuuya. I feel as if all of this is somehow planned. I feel like Tanizaki is going to turn up with light snow and the president is actually fine, and the One Order that Fukuchi has isn't real, and Fukuzawa slipped the page from him or something. Because, Tanizaki is literally behind them with Kunikida I think it was? Also, Kenji and Tecchou? Teruko? Where's Jouno? Where's Tachihara? What about the PM members that got turned? What about whatever the fuck Dazai has planned? Bro, I'm so scared but I actually cannot wait.

LMAO I am going to PISS MYSELF laughing if it just yanks Bram off the building and flings him. LMAO IT JUST FLINGS HIM OVER TO MEURSAULT LMAO.

But yeah no. So. I am insane. I am clinically unwell. That chapter fucked me up; but we've been getting fed GOOD the past two months fr. This has given me so much SKK angst fic ideas holy shit. Asagiri and Harukawa both just cured my fucking writer's block with one chapter.

Also! Something else I saw was somebody saying how similar Fyodor's mental ass fucking scene was with Dazai's and it honestly is! Fyodor getting shot in his left shoulder first, then Dazai in his right, then his left.

Now, just a thing of note; in Christianity and stuff, the left side is usually representative of evil and Satan, whereas the right side is associated with Righteousness and goodwill. Bro, I had this shit drilled into me as a kid, left was bad and right was good. It's just very interesting to me that Fyodor was shot in his left shoulder; representative of evil, and Dazai was shot in the side that it supposed to represent goodness and all things pure, really lmao. Maybe I'm just looking too deep into this, but I found it pretty intriguing.

Anyways, my main point was how similar the scenes are; they're both playing characters that are opposite to their true selves. Though, to be honest, it's a bit of a weird one/situation because we don't actually KNOW their true selves lmao.

Anyways! This is way too long, I'm going to carry on my SKK angst with my newfound absolute shit mood bro this shit fueled me but has actually destroyed me.

Honestly, props and kudos to you if you read this far.

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l0ves1ckf0ol · 1 year

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wenclair headcannons

tags: @gwynrr

astringent - platonic

gift giving as their love language will forever remain canon to ME

"im going to die." "enid, the wifi had just been cut off for a few minutes."

both kinda lazy to go out on plans so they have movie nights

wednesday forces enid to listen to a horror or a true crime podcast, until eventually enid can't sleep anymore and wednesday stops this hobby.

in revenge, enid watches clueless and mean girls with wednesday.

both unironically love musicals, especially heathers (maybe enid more than wednesday bc she sings songs from it nonstop)

homework freak (wednesday) x couldnt give two shits (enid) unless homework freak lists an amount of stuff that could happen in the future if they don't do their homework.

enid dressed up as coraline, wednesday dressed up as wybie

matching pjs

thing sneaks in food for their movie nights that he also gets to crash in

enid loves to do wednesday's makeup but its only strictly powder, eyeliner, dark eyeshadow and dark lipstick (due to her allergies) which saddens her but makes wednesday rest in peace.

sweet - fluff

wednesday = little spoon

enid = big spoon

wednesday would do anything, and i mean ANYTHING for enid.

can't focus on exams? she already made notes for enid so she can study

study sessions with thing holding up flash cards as they both review

wednesday despises pda but when provoked she will do thr little things (cheek kisses, holdinf hands, waist pulling)

theyre a converse x doc martens shoes kinda couple

"how tf can u walk in those? "

she tells enid to stop blogging gossip, enid thinks abt it, stops for a while then returns after a 3 week hiatus

enid eats dark chocolate w wednesdsy, pretendinf to like it- in reality she spits it out in the bathroom sink.

enid's pet names are "luv" or "sweetie" or "baby"

wednesday acts like she despises them (secretly loves them)

enid KNOWS that she does.

she falls asleep to wednesday playing the cello

wednesday reminds her that she can't use her cello sessions as a flaw in her character while arguing cus enid actually likes it.

they dont do dates bc wednesday is not like yk used to going out w a lover but theyre doing progress (hence DRAGGING her out the dorm)

bitter - angst

almost never fights but if they do its sumn BIG.

enid loves attention and can't live without wednesday's so when frustration builds more and more...

boom goes enid, screaming her lungs off at wedneeday and then saying sorry afterwards cus she thought SHE was being mean

wednesday thinks its cute but then realizes her mistake and then she has difficulty apologizing bc their fights are always somehow against her morals and philosophy

enid gives her the silent treatment if it takes her a long time to apologize

though shes always remind her of her own faults, subtly.

mk ive run out of ideas

#wenclair #wenclair headcanon #xu's headcannons #wednesday addams netflix #wednesday 2022 #enid sinclair #wednesday is soft for enid

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sneegsnitties · 3 years

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Hey friendly reminder, if u ask a cc to cause harm to michael, or if u want harm to come to michael thats weirdchamp in the words of miss hannahxxrose.

It aint funny or cool bc all of the other ccs know how important he is to cc!ranboo and cc!tubbo. So they wont even consider killing him because ranboo refuses to even write it into his script, so they wont put it into theirs (yes a couple of characters have thought about it, but wont go through with it due to this fact)

Hell, even just causing him harm in general, its super distressing to see bc yall are having enderwalk!ranboo do it and painting enderwalk!ranboo as a terrible, murderous thing when in reality hes just More Enderman.

Enderman are literally peaceful creatures unless provoked. Enderwalk!ranboo has literally only been shown walking around aimlessly and picking up blocks and his natural curiosity includes following people around in this state. He doesnt remeber what he does bc hes fucking 'asleep'. The worst thing hes done in his state, that we know of, is visit dream, 4th memory book and hold onto tommys disc

"But the angst!" You might say! I dont give a shit my man. I dont know how many of yall would agree with me, but its a super cheap move and just absolutely terrible to do overrall.

ANOTHER THING: RANBOO KILLING ANYONE OR ANYTHING IS EXTREMELY OUT OF CHARACTER AS HE WOULD RATHER NOT HURT ANYONE AND ONLY ATTACKS WHEN HE IS ATTACKED FIRST.

This shit aint funny or cool. If you think its okay to kill michael, fucking block me right now. I dont give a shit. I dont want to interact with you if youd like to kill a child for your cheap angst.

When a cc even refuses to do something, when multiple ccs refuse to do it because they know itll lead to something bad and they dont want to risk upsetting their fellow cc. Maybe start fucking considering what your doing isnt good. Maybe. Just fucking maybe... killing/harming michael puts you in the wrong and in a really bad light with parts of the fandom.

#dream smp #here have my fucking rant #im tired of this shit.#dsmp michael #hannahxxrose #dream smp hannah #dsmp ranboo #dream smp ranboo #ranboo #tubbo #dream smp tubbo #tubbo underscore #dsmp tubbo #literally im going fucking feral #DO NOT DEBATE ME. I WILL BLOCK YOU #i dont care for the sick fucks who write and draw this shit #vesper speaks

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jaedore · 3 years

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jaehyun x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mythology!au, angst, romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, suggestive (just making out lol), mentions of alcohol, violence (mentions of choking)

𝐚/𝐧: if you are uncomfortable with these themes then i highly suggest you no longer interact! also, thoughts/emphasis are italicized. I'll just put the header on when I have the patience bc I felt like this is long overdue

[4.5k words]

You woke up finding your body was stiff and sore. It overpowered the pain in your wounded knees that stung with every movement of your limbs. Yesterday seemed like days ago, it felt like a fever dream. No, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was just curl up in bed, but then you remembered that your mother and you were having dinner at Jaehyun’s place. You’ve never gone to the Underworld, you didn’t hear many good things about it and that terrified you. What if Cerberus ate you? What if a wandering, lost soul stole your soul? The questions were endless and it sent you down a spiral of nervousness.

“Y/n?” Your mother softly came in, an apron hung around her neck and the aroma of breakfast food seeped into your room.

“Morning, mom,” you croaked.

“How are you feeling?”

Your mind flashed back to yesterday; Jaehyun in your room, tending your wounds, being flirtatious, or whatever. You remembered it as clear as the Fountain of Youth.

“I’m fine,” you answered, swiping the sheets away from your body to peer at the wounds.

You gently peeled back the bandage a bit only to see that the wound was almost gone. It held a faint discoloration as it was in the process of healing, but you were impressed nonetheless.

“So,” your mother began as she sat on the edge of your bed, “tonight, I was thinking about bringing a pasta dish. Or should we bring a cake? A pie maybe?”

“We can just pick up a pie from the bakery,” you brushed your hand in the air, dismissing any ideas, “it’ll be easier anyways.”

“Ah, yes. Hades does like his spicy chocolate pies,” your mother hums as she smoothes her palm against your bedsheet.

“Ugh, I don’t know how he eats that stuff,” you grumble, swinging your legs off your bed.

“Well, he is the God of the Underworld,” she raises both of her eyebrows at you, “so, what will you be doing today? It’s super nice out.”

Peering at your window, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The sky is bare of clouds and it does seem like a beautiful day today. You can imagine yourself sitting in the grass with a book in your palms. But you had more important things to do today, like beating the shit out of Maeve.

Your shoulders slump as you reply, “I’m going to go train with Mark.”

“You’re always training with that boy,” she narrows her eyes at you, “are you in love with him?”

“Mother!” You raise your voice, snapping your head to her, “No, I am not.”

Athena only laughs at your reply as she gets up and makes her way out of your room.

“Hey, Y/n?” her voice stops you before you step into the bathroom.

“Yes, mom?”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” she asks, her voice sweet and loving.

You nodded, recalling the things that happened last night at the beach. You haven’t told her and she must be worried, but you’re too drained and confused to spill it. So you spare her a small smile as you walk into the bathroom, not saying a word about what happened.

“Come on! You can hit harder!”

Annoyed at Mark’s ‘words of encouragement’, you purse your lips as you attempt to hit the boxing pad with your mitts. You were beginning to get tired, your arms burned from the repetitive movements and your knees ached as it chased after your feet. Mark hasn’t given you a break since you’ve gotten here and it’s almost been an hour of constant hitting.

Growing frustrated, you shouted in protest, “I’m done!” you throw your mitts on the dirt.

Mark sighs, seeing the frustration in your eyes, “Okay, what’s really going on?”

You exhale a short breath, “Nothing you’d be interested in,” you answer him sharply as you walk towards one of the rocks to sit on. Mark follows you closely, but quietly afraid to set off the fuming bomb of anger you always held.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve heard a lot of mysterious things about you,” he plops right next to you.

You curl your legs up to your chest as you stare forward at the waterfall, “Like what?” you mumble, really not interested in what he’s heard because it’s all been bad stuff.

“You tell me,” Mark shrugs.

You tighten your hold on your legs, “I think someone’s out to get me,” you whisper.

Mark leans in to hear you clearer, “Maeve?” he whispers back.

You shudder, her name bringing back awful memories, “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. I have nothing that has to do with her. Sure, I provoked her on the first day, but...it wasn’t severe to draw it out this far.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

You explained what happened last night at the beach party. You quivered as you retold the story from your perspective. It was a vivid nightmare that you didn’t know how to wake.

“Where is Lucas now?” Mark asked.

You fumed at the male’s name. He hasn’t texted or called you since last night. He would be the key to all of your answers, but he wouldn’t answer any of your messages or calls. Lucas was friendly, always nice, and shined bright like the sun. You just wondered what he was up to.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, picking up the mitts from the ground, “come on. We came here to train. Plus, I want to forget it all.”

Mark quickly jumps to his feet, “do you think this has anything to do with the feud between Hades, your mother, and her’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “What feud?”

Mark smirked, “Guess you don’t know then.”

“Mark,” you lowered your voice when he dismissed your question, “what. Feud?”

“I’ll tell you if you can beat me,” he said, picking up the other pair of mitts that laid on the ground.

Storming into your house, you shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me about the feud you had with Hades and Eris?”

Taken aback, she looked at you with wide eyes, almost dropping the spoon she held, “w-what are you talking about?”

You inhaled, “Why didn’t you tell me that after the Titan War, Hades, and apparently Zeus, imprisoned Eris in Tartarus? And that you were helping them and now she’s after me, possibly because of it?”

“Who told you that?” your mother calmly put down the spoon and rubbed her palms on her thighs.

“Does that really matter right now, mom?” your voice rose in anger.

“Sit down,” she wipes her hand on a napkin, discarding it as she walks towards you, who begins to be seated at the dinner table.

“Eris and I were good friends, we trained together as kids. She was good, almost better than me, but there was always the tension of competition between us. One could only be good in the eyes of Zeus so we grew up and trained with that mindset. As we got older, we were still good friends, but there was always that silent tension between us. When the Titan war came to be, Eris rebelled and fought against us,” your mother sighed, anguish tainting the streaks of her face, “I tried everything in my power to persuade her to fight with us, to be on our side, but that’s when she said all of the things that were never said. That I was the favorite, I was the best only because I was the favorite, I was only fighting along Zeus because he favored me more than her. Not because I was good or tactful, she disregarded our training together...our friendship, the bond that we had growing up. It was stupid really, but eventually, we beat their army and imprisoned her. According to Zeus, she did more damage during the war that I wasn’t aware of. That’s why she’s imprisoned in Tartarus. I haven’t asked because she’s...she’s dead to me really.”

You leaned back in her seat, realizing that Maeve probably was only acting out of feeling because of the relationship between both of your mothers. Her mother was imprisoned in the deep abyss below the Underworld, while yours lived a perfect, rewarding life.

“Is that why we’re going to the Underworld tonight? To talk to Zeus?” you quietly asked.

Your mother nodded, “I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of the possibilities of her coming for you through her daughter because of me.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I just want this to stop,” your fingertips brushed against your neck.

“Well,” your mother sighed, peering at her watch, “you don’t really have time to get ready, so why don’t you rinse your face from the sweat, and then we’ll pick up the pie and head on down.”

Head on down. You whimpered as you stood up. And it wasn’t because of your sore legs.

As you washed your face, you wondered if Jaehyun would be eating with you guys. You recall that Hades said Jaehyun was always at the Mourning Fields talking to the souls that wandered there. There, holds the souls that wasted their souls on unrequited love. Does Jaehyun love someone? Or does he not? Then you remembered how he took up space in your room last night. His fingertips sent icicle daggers through your skin that you felt their phantom as you wiped your face on the nearby towel. With the hopes of Jaehyun not speaking to you tonight, you braced yourself on the journey of walking down into the Underworld.

You jumped back at the sound of barking. Cerberus. The three-headed dog barks at both you and your mother. No matter how powerful your mother, Athena, was, she had no power over a creature created to guard the gates of the Underworld.

“Why isn’t he coming? I rang the doorbell like five minutes ago,” your mother grumbled.

As if on cue, the gates opened and the growling sounds of Cerberus silenced in question.

“They are not the enemy or the dead, Cerberus. They’re our guests.” a voice rang above you. You found out later that the voice belonged to Hades, but you saw Jaehyun stepping out from behind the black, iron gates.

“Good evening, sorry for the wait.” Jaehyun bowed to you both.

Your mother paused, regretting the comment she made before as she saw how handsome Jaehyun was, “You’re Jaehyun, right? You grew up so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tch “ma’am”. As if you actually had manners. You rolled your eyes at his sense of poise. You wonder where he learned such acts in a short amount of time.

Your mother nudged you, “do you have anything to say?” she whispered.

You inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes at the prideful male in front of you, “Thank you for having us,” you mumbled, barely nodding to him.

“Please, this way.”

Jaehyun led your mother and you towards Hades’ Palace, the stone tower tall enough to peek through the rising fog of the evening. Across the path to the left stood the Judgement Pavilion. Several souls lined up waiting for their next home where they’d be trapped forever. One of the souls snapped their eyes to you as if they knew where you stood, who you were. Their eyes were full of darkness and fury, almost consuming you into a tunnel of doom.

Jaehyun snatched your arm, his grip vice-like, “Don’t look at any soul who hasn’t been through the Judgement Pavilion, it’s their last chance to steal a living being’s soul before they’re judged into exile.” You hadn’t realized it but it was only you and Jaehyun who stood on the pavement that led you to Hades’ Palace.

You looked ahead not seeing her, “Where’s my mom?”

“She already went in. We didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked you something to only find you not behind us.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “How long have I been standing here?”

“Around five minutes, you didn’t hear me call you?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking your head in denial you said, “No, I didn’t until you grabbed my arm,” you eyed down to your arm seeing that he still held you. Jaehyun’s grip loosened as he also realized that he hadn’t let go yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” his hand tightened around your arm once again as he dragged you towards the stone palace.

“I can walk myself,” you snapped at him, attempting to yank your arm from his clutch.

Jaehyun turned to you, his eyes cool and icy, sending chills down your spine, “I know,” he lowly said, “but I’m not taking my chances,” he gripped your arm again, leading you to his home.

The moonlight barely shined against the copper stone of his palace, creating sheer darkness looking like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. As unwelcoming as it felt, you could smell the complete opposite; a small scent of mint, the natural smell of tree bark, and the faintest feather of lavender. You glanced forward at Jaehyun, he hadn’t spared you look as you two made your way towards his home.

Jaehyun led you past the Asphodel Meadows, only tugging on your arm harder to bring your senses back. He was right to do so because looking at it was hypnotizing. You were even surprised that the ground-up dirt was able to grow flowers, and not knowing what kind they were, they were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. The trees that sheltered them were bare of leaves and plants, creating a haunting aura, but it didn’t alarm you enough to look away.

“Come on,” Jaehyun tugged at you once again, this time gaining your attention.

You glared at him making you feel like some child that wasn’t able to concentrate. “What’s down there?”

He glanced back at you, mirroring your expression, “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush, we’re almost there.”

After a few more steps, you both came to face his home. The palace was bigger than you expected as it loomed over you. It felt like you were walking into your own exile.

“I thought you got lost,” your mother called to you as you walked in with Jaehyun behind you.

“She almost did,” he mumbled as he passed you to sit at the dinner table.

“She’s always been a curious one,” your mother laughed.

“That could get you in some serious trouble, girl,” Hades walked into the room with spoons in his hand. The high-pitched cackling sound of the spoon hitting the dishes made you wince, “come sit, it’s almost time to eat.”

Obeying Hades’ words, you idly sat next to Jaehyun with shame settling in your bones because you felt embarrassed that he had to drag your ass back to his place. The skin where his hands once grasped your arm felt tingly and you couldn’t burn it from your mind. It’s not like you and Jaehyun had many encounters, or rather, pleasant encounters, but you can’t help yourself but stare at him from the corner of your eye. Jaehyun sits with poise and pride, but you can see the burden he carries in the way he slightly slouches and the exhausted sigh that wriggles from his lips.

As everyone eats, you can’t help but think what Jaehyun’s thinking about. You can tell he’s thinking about something from the tension in his brow and the small pout coming from his bottom lip. From time to time, you ignore the small moments where his arm or leg brushes against yours or when you both reach for the same dish. And there’s a sort of tension over the table as everyone silently hides their comments as their food reaches their lips.

Hades is the first to speak, “So, I’ve heard you’ve had quite the events lately,” his tone low and cautious.

You clear your throat, “Um, yes.”

You begin to tell him everything that’s happened from the start of Maeve to the event in the Phantasms Forest. Not leaving out a single detail, you didn’t even notice your hands tensing up until you felt warmth from another on top of your chilled skin. Turning to your mother, she nods to you in comfort, letting you know that you’re doing well and you’re strong for facing what you’ve been through. Hades listens closely, not reaching for his food and feeling the slight disgust from those who caused you harm. Truth be told, he knew what was happening and why it was happening to you. Slightly nodding at your mother, they both lifted themselves from their seats and walked out the door leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

You turned to the male to your right, “Where are they going?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing the nearby plates, “Probably to Tartarus.”

“What?” You snapped up on your legs, immediately following him to the kitchen sink, “Why?

“I’m sure you know that’s where they’re keeping Eris,” Jaehyun spares you a glance as he begins soaking a sponge in soap.

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms, “but why are they going down there? To talk to her? What is she going to do? What are they going to do? How long is this going to take?”

Tired of the overload from your questions, Jaehyun turns to you. Unbeknown that you were leaning forward towards him as you spoke, your eyes widened as you came face to face with the hot-headed male. His eyes were a pool of darkness with a hint of brown like melted dark chocolate. You stood in front of him with your feet glued to the ground. Heat radiated off your body as you parted your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered down. He sharply inhaled to only let it out as he turned away and began scrubbing the dishes again.

“Bring the dishes to me and I’ll wash them,” he said before you could turn away from him.

You clutched the collar of your shirt. What was that? Your fingers trembled around a plate when you realized that he didn’t even answer any of your problems.

Setting them on the counter next to him, you snapped, “You didn’t even reply to my questions.”

“You talk too much.”

Stunned, you purse your lips and walk away. He can clean the kitchen by himself. You sat yourself in their living room, plopping yourself on the couch. If it weren’t for the dim lamp that flickered in the far corner of the room, you would’ve walked around blindly. The walls were painted in black, the rug was black, and even the couch you sat on was black. Everything was black like a fire had torn through the palace. The only color that caught your attention was the pictures that sat on top of the unlit fireplace. Making your way towards the photos, you found family photos of Jaehyun and his parents. It looked like a regular family you would suspect in the human world, a mother and father playing with their toddler son in the park. Except it wasn’t a park and it wasn’t a regular family. The field Jaehyun played on was the Field of Asphodel, but it was beautiful, there was greenery, grass, and beautiful flowers that bloomed around little Jaehyun. You wondered what happened to the breathtaking scenery. Your eyes landed on a particular picture that made the corners of your lips lift in the slightest. There, laid little Jaehyun sleeping peacefully in the embrace of Cerberus who also laid in slumber around the little boy, sheltering him from the rain that penetrated to the Underworld. Cute. The faint blur of a finger covered the corner of the picture, you wondered who took this photo. You thought that maybe it was his mother, Persephone, who no one’s heard of for years. The last thing you heard was that Hades kidnapped her after eating six pomegranate seeds and she was forced to live six months in the Underworld and six months in the mortal world, Earth. But she hasn’t returned from her six months on Earth. And it’s been 20 years.

“No, I don’t know where she is, nor do I really care,” Jaehyun said beside you.

Jumping, you didn’t even realize he was there. Holding your chest, you panted, “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“I know,” he glanced at you, his gaze flickering back to your lips, then lower to your neck, “but you were thinking it.”

“I-”

“Come, I might have some ointment left for your neck,” Jaehyun doesn’t even give you a chance to protest.

Grabbing your wrist, you obediently follow him back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” he commands.

You look around in question, “Where the hell am I going to sit?”

Jaehyun reached up to the upper cupboard, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting with his shoulders to reveal his back, “on the counter, of course,” you averted your eyes somewhere else when he turned to face you, “unless you want to sit on my lap,” he smirks.

You shake your head, lifting yourself on the counter. Even if you sat on the counter, you were only tall enough to meet him at eye level. Snapping the cap open, the familiar smell of mint and ginger filled your nose as he dipped two fingers in the gooey substance. A very sinful scenario flashed across your mind as he pulled those fingers back out, his digits drenched in the healing fluid. Squeezing your legs together, you cleared your throat as he crept closer to you, but that only led to Jaehyun sliding his free hand around your nape to pull you closer.

“I don’t bite,” he whispers, that smirk returning.

“I didn’t ev-”

You tensed as Jaehyun’s fingertips brushed on your skin to apply the ointment. Both of your bodies were so close to each other, the only blockage being your knees that dug into this stiff abdomen. It also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s face was incredibly close to yours. With one movement, your lips would’ve met.

“Relax,” he whispers, his eyes switching up to meet yours.

Chills shoot down your spine, a sudden heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach at the breeze of his breath. But eventually, you relaxed. Until you felt his hand on your neck rubbing circles. He repeatedly dipped those long digits of his in the ointment and reapplied it to your neck. To be honest, you thought it looked fine, it was still sore and hurt in certain places but it felt like he was lathering you in it. Once in a while, you’d wince at the pressure Jaehyun’s fingertips pressed against some of the bruises.

“Sorry,” he’d murmur. You’d thin your lips but relax as soon as he apologizes, his voice sounding sincere and gentle.

Slightly turning to the side, you let out a troubled breath, sharply inhaling another, repeating those steps over again and again until Jaehyun slowly pulled away. His warm hand slipped from your nape and your breath trembled, the cold air settling on it as soon as he pulled away. You watched him set the ointment back where he got it from, not missing the flutter of his skin that revealed the slight muscles in his lower back. Oh boy, you sighed.

Jaehyun turned back to you, “You alright?”

You nodded, “Will it still be there by tomorrow?”

Jaehyun walked to you as you stayed glued to the counter, he hummed, “Considering that you almost met death twice in the span of two days, it’ll take a few days,” he was closer once again, “just be careful,” his voice in a low whisper.

You could feel his breath brisk your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was your own heat warming you up or the faint warmth of the words that escaped his plump lips. You felt his abdomen on the curl of your knees like before and there wasn’t a way to bring them closer because it’d reveal to him what you were thinking...or feeling. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, maybe you were just lonely. But the longer you stayed in front of him, your desire to kiss him grew. He’s been nothing but cold and mean, but he’s been so kind and taking care of you despite his spiteful aura. You sucked in your bottom lip, stopping whatever trembling words attempted to escape from the cage of your tongue.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jaehyun’s hands slid to your waist.

“Don’t do that,” Jaehyun brought him closer to you, prying your legs open to create space for him.

You sucked in another sharp breath, “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun seemed to be drawing closer to you, his gaze occasionally glancing at your lips as both of your breaths began to weigh down. Closing your eyes, you swore you felt his lips brush yours until you realized he wasn’t kissing you at all, but instead lifting you until you were back on your feet. With bodies still closer than the stars were to the moon, you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. Already looking at you, Jaehyun let out a heavy sigh.

You should’ve inhaled another breath because the next second, you found yourself against Jaehyun’s lips. Those lips that were so pink and so inviting met yours. It felt like Olympus was on pause and it was just you and him. No Maeve, no darkness, nothing. A heavy sensation of peace settled in the curve of your palms as you dragged them down his chest. You gasped when he bit your lip, sucking and, licking it for permission of entrance and you immediately complied, not giving it any thought at all. Those calloused hands of his wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you closer flush against his body, against his hips. Jaehyun’s tongue danced with yours, a gasp revering the way he held you close to him, the way with each stroke, you moaned enough to satisfy him. Until he pulled away.

With panting breaths and blinking eyes scattering across yours, you could see the panic in his eyes. You could see instant regret that pooled in the darkness of his eyes, yet you couldn’t help but inhale when he stepped away, the heat of his body replaced with his familiar coldness. Your eyes follow Jaehyun as he runs out of his home. Not saying anything to you, but leaving you alone in the darkness of his home. In the Underworld. Standing alone in his kitchen, you could hear the loud beating of your heart penetrating your ears, blocking the sound of droplets from the faucet, the hum of the house, and the confusion in your breath. Your fingers fly to your lips, the feeling burns yours like a scar. Was it something you said? Was it something you did? Gulping, you frantically searched the cupboards for a cup of water, thirst reaching your throat, but instead you found a section that opened up to bottles of whisky and wine.

Even better. Finding a drying cup in the sink, you poured yourself a glass of the bronze liquid, not caring for it’s age or make. You winced as the liquid scorched your throat, coughing at the slightly burning sensation that warmed your mouth, but anything was better than the searing feeling of his lips and the pain of when he pulled away.

#neowritingsnet #nct writers #cznnet #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jung jaehyun imagines

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Note

nonono I need more ANGST part 3 for out of his grasp/out of their grasp were reader comes back as a ghost like Ghostbur but remembers bad memories so she doesn’t remember Dream or George

Out of Their Grasp

{THIS IS THE NEW UPDATED VERSION BECAUSE APARENTLY THE FIRST VERSION WASN”T ANGSTY ENOUGH}

{real talk though I thought maybe I could change this to be more angsty cause I didn’t think the ghost thing would work}

requested by this anon: “hey hey I was wondering if you could do dream x George x reader fantasy/royal au (bc I just read "for his hand" and I love it so much!!) where reader and dream go to battle but only dream returns from it. and he has to tell George that reader died. the more angst the better😝💅”

and also this one: “will there be a part 2 of For His Hand? It’s so good, i loved it!”

{Technically you don’t have to read part one but I would recommend it because this one takes place in the same universe}

Dream x George x reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, major character death, aGnSt

premise: war breaks out near the borders of the SMP, you and Dream are sent ahead of the royal party to the front lines in an attempt to stop any further battles until a peace can be reached when disaster strikes, leaving your partners to deal with the repercussions.

{dude I’m like manically laughing right now}

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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“It was just skirmishes, here and there for the last few weeks,” Sam gestured to a few spots near the northern boarder on the map spread out across the table, before pointing to another in the center of the rest, “But then, yesterday there was a huge attack on the villages, and our military bases in this valley.”

You glanced around the room, from person to person, gauging there reactions.

George had visibly stiffened in his seat, and behind him Dream seemed equal tense.

“Have we taken any measures to fight back?” Sapnap asked impatiently.

“How bad are the damages?” George asked, ignoring him.

Eret looked down at the report they’d been given, “There seems to have been more pillaging than raiding, they were breaking into peoples house, causing general destruction and looting, when our forces attempted to stop them they began to fight. All in all 30 of ours were killed and there was an estimated 10,000 in damages.”

George frowned, as Niki spoke up, “We should pay the people reparation's and help them with any reconstruction that needs to be done.”

Many people nodded, but next to you Sapnap was still unhappy, “Are we doing anything about the invaders? We cannot just sit here and allow them to attack the people!”

“Pushing, pushing.” You muttered.

The king looked at him for a long moment, before turning to Callahan, the scribe, “Attempt to negotiate a peace. I don’t want anymore bloodshed to curse this land.”

The man beside you groaned, and you were quick to elbow him in the side and Sam ended the meeting and everyone began to file out of the room, hissing, “I don’t know how they do things where you’re from but that is no way to behave in an advisory meeting. Next time you pull that shit you won’t be allowed back to one.”

-You had taken the new coming warrior on as a sort of apprentice after he’d first arrived at the palace, and it was clear the change of pace wasn’t something he was ready for-

“They can’t just stand by! The King is a fool if he thinks a peace can be reached like this!”

You glared at him. “The King is no fool.”

“You only say that out of obligation.” Sapnap fired back.

You recoiled, burned, before crossing your arms and starting out of the room, “You may be a trained mercenary but you haven’t the faintest idea as to how to hold yourself among this crowd. It will be the death of you.”

He followed you back toward your office, listening as you continued, “King George is a good and just man, to say that he is a fool is to say the sun is square. He has wiped this kingdom clean of many years of bloodshed.

“The Kings advisors, and cabinet are kind, respectable people, you must remember to hold your tongue unless spoken too, and never say anything brash as you have done now, lest you make a greater fool of yourself.”

He huffed, “If I must stay silent in those meetings than how can I get my point across? Sending a messege to the enemy through force may be the only way!”

“Now you sound like Tommy, just as foolhardy and headstrong as the child,” You pushed the door to your office open, “I’m sure that Technoblade agrees with you, though he knows better than to speak freely.”

“If he agrees with me than perhaps it’s the right move.”

You turned to look at him quizzically, finally saying, “A wise king does not seek out war, no matter what his knights advise.”

Sapnap turned, “Then the lot of them are fools.”

“I have told you once to never disrespect the king, I suggest you don’t do it again. This land has seen it’s share of unjust rulers, be thankful you have not come here under worse authority.”

~~ That night, when the palace grew quiet, and the sky dark, you found yourself back in Dream’s quarters, an overtired, overstressed George having wedged himself between you two and refusing to move.

You sighed as Dream ran a hand through your sleeping partners hair, “He’s anxious.”

“I mean, can you blame him? War may be on the horizon.” Dream murmured.

“I meant even now- in the time of sleep. I think Sapnap is just adding fuel to the fire.”

Dream sighed, “If he has another outburst like that-”

“He’ll be cast out,” You nodded, “I know. He just needs to be willing to learn the way things go around here. In time he will learn.”

Your boyfriend chuckled to himself, “Fucking hotshot.”

“I think you’d like him, if you were able to spend more time with him.” You smiled.

“Well someone had to go snatch him up as an apprentice!”

“Well it was him or Ranboo, and Ranboo is far too- forgetful, for this sort of thing. I’d’ve had Tubbo but he and Tommy are a package set an you took ‘em.”

“What about Purpled?”

You rolled your eyes, “He started an apprenticeship with Punz ages ago.”

“SHHhhhhhhh, ‘m tryin’ to sleep.” George muttered, burying his face in your shoulder.

In the darkness of the chamber you could barley make out Dream’s eyes sparkling as he took your hand, “Course love, course.”

As the weeks continued the damages on the northern boarder only seemed to grow, the new invaders claiming three of the villages there own.

There was yet another large attack on the town that had been damaged the first time, this time a direct threat left etched on the walls, ‘You have made my people suffer, and now yours shall feel the same’

“Militia, both local and our own soldiers have taken it upon themselves to fight back, almost a hundred lived lost to each side.” The silence in the room grew deafening as Sam finished reading his report, not even Sapnap daring to speak.

“Your Majesty?” Bad hazarded, “What is our next course of action?”

George frowned, glancing around the room, “Peace is still the priority. Maybe- maybe we call a ceasefire, I could meet with there ruler-”

“No,” Dream interrupted, drawing all eyes to him, “It would be too dangerous. How do we know they can be trusted to lay down there arms?”

George shot him a look, “How do we know that we haven’t done anything to provoke them? Whatever we have done wrong we need to fix it. If we can work something out then people will be spared on both sides.”

“Shall we arrange for a ceasefire?” Eret asked.

The King nodded as Wilbur spoke up, “We could set up a meeting place, on neutral ground, possibly similar to the holy lands, so there would be no worry of a security breech.”

Dream seemed to relax at this, and then eyes were turned to you and Sapnap, representing the royal guard, “We can, but even so we should stay vigilant, perhaps send a group ahead with the runners to see too it.” You said, noting the gratitude on Dream’s face, as well as the slight annoyance on George’s.

“Well I see no one better to attend to the King’s safety than you,” Bad said, “You shall go with the party, and Technoblade with you, Sapnap can remain here to take over your day to day duties.”

The man in question quietly shot you a pleading look, at which you sighed, “With all do respect I think Sapnap could be better severing to the crown if he joined the running party.”

Bad glanced around to the others, looking for any objections before shrugging, “We can find someone else to do the work. So that’ll be you, Technoblade, Sapnap, and we can send the usual scouting party, and Sam shall go with again.”

You sighed, tracing an absent pattern on George’s side, listening to Dream’s ramble about how dangerous the idea that had been decided on at the meeting was.

“Finding peace is the priority, you can’t can’t change that.” George mumbled.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous!” Dream protested.

“It’ll be fine, We’ll have a perimeter set up with guards and everything. I’ll make sure none of them can even get near him with such intent.” You yawned.

The blonde huffed, “That just makes me more worried.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your hand blindly sought his, “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep the ceasefire from being broken.”

“I know.” Was the only quiet response you received.

The next morning found you suiting up and heading out to the stables to tack up your horse. Techno was already down there, idly chatting with Phil as he readied Carl for the journey, and out in the courtyard you could see Sapnap talking to two men.

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Phil chirped, waving your direction.

“Morning Phil.” You moved down the row, reaching out and letting Beckerson nuzzle into your palm.

After getting your horse cared for and saddled, the rest of the party had headed out of the stables as your partners entered.

George took your hand, “Don’t start any more trouble.”

“Sounds like your talking to Dream not me.” You chuckled.

“Hey!” Dream protested.

“I’m not wrong!” You teased.

George rolled his eyes, quickly pulling you in for a kiss, “Make things good for me to be out there.”

“Stay out of trouble.” Dream advised, pulling you away from George to kiss you himself.

“You underestimate me.” You smirked, grabbing Bekerson’s reigns.

Dream rolled his eyes as you started to lead the horse out of the stable, calling, “And stay safe!”

“I’ll see you in five days!” You chuckled, heading out of the stables and quickly mounting your horse, kicking at his sides to catch up with the others.

~~ The last few days had been spent anxiously waiting, and now the journey to the norther board was coming to a close.

Dream rode alongside the carriage, eyes following the strange trail of smoke on the horizon; something was wrong, he could feel it.

The quiet, almost calm of the morning was slowly being cut through by a growing noise, and then finally shattered as one of the runners sent ahead to signal their arrival came crashing through the trees looking panicked.

“What’s going on?” Punz asked.

“They attacked! They broke the ceasefire!”

Dream’s brain surged with panic as he turned to where George and his advisors were starting to climb out of the carriage asking why they had stopped, “Turn around! It isn’t safe here! Go! Punz! Tommy! Ponk! Get them out of here!”

Before he could even stop to see if they were following his orders he was rushing forward down the road, urging Spirit to go faster as the road widened into the village.

Dream was met with nothing but chaos, the royal insignia’s on the tents set up in the field were aflame, and the clashing of swords filled his ears as the royal army and the few commoners who could fought back against the pillaging people.

“About time you showed up!” Sapnap yelled from halfway across the field, “We could use some fucking help!”

“No shit!” Dream yelled back, dismounting and unsheathing his sword.

Almost immediately another person came barley towards him, throwing him into combat.

He cut his way across the field, taking down people here and there, still searching the carnage for you.

Eventually he made it to where Sapnap had just disarmed and knocked out another opponent, “Where are they?”

His eyes danced around the wreckage, “Could be anywhere, saw ‘em trying to get the townspeople out of the way.”

Dream cursed, running off the direction of the village, calling you name.

The fighting continued, the addition of the extra royal guardsmen helping turn the tide of the battle, though Dream still couldn’t locate you on the battle field.

The invaders, or what was left of there battalion began to retreat, but still Dream could find no sign of you, the now all too quiet valley erupted into noise as another skirmish broke out.

Taking off at a sprint he made it up the hill to find you locked in combat with another warrior.

You panted, throwing up you shield to block another strike from his axe before shoving forward and swing your sword at his spear wielding hand.

He wasn’t excepting this, and the spear clatter out of his hand, the shock on his face giving you enough momentum to keep pushing forward, throwing attack after attack at the man as he edged backward.

You had just managed to shove him to the ground when a cry broke your attention.

“(Y/N)!!”

You turned to see Dream, smiling, words starting to form on your lips as a spear suddenly drove through your chest.

“NO!!!!!” Dream shrieked, charging forward and quickly slashing at the mans throat before turning to where you had fallen in the grass.

“T-that one was your fault.” You mumbled as he did his best to pull your shaking body into his arms, “You-ou had t-to go distract-ing me.”

“I know,” tears flooded his eyes, “It’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna get help.”

You did your best to smile through your fear, “What would G-George say if he saw you here cuddling m- m- me without him? Huh?”

“(Y/n)....”

“Bad time for a joke I guess,” you shaky voice was disrupted by a painful cough wracking your body, “Never real-really planned on being r-r-ran through with a spear this morning.”

“It’s gonna be okay! It’s- it’s gonna be okay!” Dream desperately pushed your hair out of your face, head whipping around to where the royal soldiers were beginning to regroup, “WE- I need a medic! Please! We need a medic!”

It was the first time you’d ever heard him sound so distraught, gently you reached up to his face, “Dream- Clay, leave it alone, they won’t be able to- to do anythi-ng.”

You coughed again as he turned back to you, “Don’t say that! Don’t say that!”

“It’s just my time d-d-darling,” You gasped at the pain brought by him trying to pull you closer, “You- you gotta let go.”

“NO! You’re not gonna die! You’re not gonna leave! I won’t let you!”

“I d- don’t have your permission to d-die?” The spots floating in your vision began to grow larger, blocking out spot of his face, and the sky.

“No! You don’t! You’re not leaving! I’m not letting you!” He said desperately.

“You’ve- g-got too...”

He glared down through the valley, barking out, “I said I need a medic! Someone! Please! They need help!”

There were people hurrying up the hill now, not that you could see, as Dream continued to yell.

The spots began to grow even bigger, merging together until darkness fully overtook you and you slipped from there grasp, “I’m sorry...”

Dream tore his gaze from the approaching medical team, looking down at your now limp body, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-”

“You can’t leave! You- your not allowed to leave us! You- you can’t- I- I didn’t give you permission to die!”

He blubbered, still trying to pull you closer to him, as if he held you tighter you wouldn’t have slipped away.

“You can’t go! I didn’t say you could go! You can’t leave! You can’t.....”

Then people were pulling you away from him, and Sapnap was pulling him up, and leading him away.

“Your highness, news of the attack on the boarder has returned.”

George stopped his anxious pacing a Wilbur led in a scarily calm Technoblade and a visibly shaking Dream into the room, Sapnap still with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What happened? Where’s (y/n)?”

Dream started to shake more at the mention of your name, and Techno stepped forward, “(y/n)- died in combat two days ago.”

George stayed silent, so he continued, “They died a hero’s death defending our kingdom.”

The king waved them away, “Out, please.”

Wilbur nodded, and quickly Sapnap and Technoblade followed him out of the room, leaving Dream to slowly move toward George, pulling him into his arms, tears coming from both men.

“It was my fault. They were fighting- an- and I distracted them.”

“You- you what?” George croaked.

“I wasn’t thinking,” He said quietly, ducking his head as George pulled away, “Th- they died in my arms George!”

“Wh- what have you done?”

Dream looked at him in shock, “What do you mean?”

“Tell me what happened.” It was a command, said in a way Dream had never heard directed at him.

“I got there- there was fighting, when the fighting died down I still couldn’t find them- then I heard another fight- on the ridge, I got up there, and It seemed like they had won, I yelled there name- and-” He broke off, barley muffling a sob.

“You all but killed them yourself.” George muttered.

“I didn’t- th- I- George.” Dream grappled for words.

“You killed them.”

“I didn’t! George I know it’s my fault, but-”

The King just shook his head, turning and silently stalking out of the room.

The castle seemed to stay in mourning for weeks, the kings council having to take over as the king stayed shut up in his chambers, refusing to talk to anyone.

The King’s Knight became more and more vocal during meetings, providing insight on how to get back at the enemy, amplifying Sapnap’s voice.

Then, as plans were being finalized, Dream was met by another figure as he sat in front of your grave.

“You think this will make up for what you’ve done?” Georges voice was horse, rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days, though still laced with the same venom as when he’d found out.

Dream nodded, remaining quiet as he traced the hilt of his blade.

“Tomorrow then?”

Again Dream nodded, looking down at the copy of the note that had been sent to the enemy:

‘Holy water cannot stop me now, a thousand armies couldn’t keep me out. I don’t want your money, I don’t want your crown, see I’ve come to burn your kingdom down’

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dream x george x reader #teddy06 writes

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whosjunglejim4322 · 3 years

Text

Cobra Hybrid! Yukhei/ fighter AU

Warnings: pussy eating, breeding kink, competitive fighting, bl**d, mentions of open wounds, eagle hybrid Xiaojun, scorpion hybrid Hendery, minor mentions of getting high, angst, mentions of near death experiences, fluff bc Xuxi loves u an unhealthy amount

The sky outside of your bedrooms hopper window is scattered with rich hues of deep violet and burgundy, a sight that is too captivating to not sit and admire for at least a moment while your food cools off on your beside table.

You've always been particular about the temperature, needing it hot enough to burn your palms but not the surface of your tongue.

You smile warmly to yourself as you think of Yukhei, the way he can practically scarf anything down no matter the heat. You've had to physically stop him from inhaling piping hot ramen quite a few times, though he never listens. "Its okay, promise!I like when it's hot!"

Stubborn boy.

The colors above seem to dissipate by the second into shades that better suit the nighttime hour, not even a quarter of the sun peeking from below the horizon as the city below continues to buzz with work commutes, or perhaps lovers that are eager to be in the same space their partners occupy.

You sigh ruefully, knowing that it's just your suboncious missing a certain doe eyed, raven haired boy.

It hasn't even been two days since you last saw eachother, the navy blue sweatshirt that he wore over still hanging off the corner of your dresser, the scent of patchouli and cedarwood clinging to the fabric.

Your fingers reach out to undo the latch that keeps your window closed, the cool, dusk air gentle against your cheeks.

You know you shouldn't worry about him, he's with Hendery and Xiaojun and the others and they're all celebrating YangYang's birthday in his uncles house near Shenzhen.

At least that's what his last message said, and truly, you're not one to be overly nosey or obsessive. But the thought of Yukhei, your Yukhei, back in that poisonous red ring with barbarous eyes latched onto his body, eager for his blood to spill across the white floor-

You feel your throat tighten at the thought, eyes closing as you inhale through your nose, the air not as thick with smog this time of year and allowing for at least somewhat of a peace of mind.

You find the juxtaposition to the outside world, and the world that lies below the boutiques and indie music shops and niche cafes, to be sardonically humorous.

It makes sense, strangely, that the evil and greed that people possess would no doubt be thrumming with a life of its own in the hybrid world, even more so than that of the human world, sometimes.

And for hybrids like Yukhei, the ones with a little more strength, a little more aggression once the animal that coexists with their dna is provoked, for a king cobra; merchants practically frothed at the mouth when your boyfriend put himself up for rivalry.

It was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and not just because the clubs usually smelled of dry blood and spit among other noxious substances, or because of the fact that his body felt as if it had been hit by a train every morning when he awoke.

It's because of how you sobbed when you found out. Your eyes and nose raw with the fury in which you had rubbed them, your body shaking. It hurt more than anything, more than a fierce kick to the jaw or a pair of canines ripping into the flesh of his shoulder.

It was agoninzing, almost more so than the fact that he had to do it in order to pay off some stupid, futile debt that he owed.

It was a nefarious fox hybrid who helped him out of an almost brawl at a club downtown during the time he worked there, fixing drinks sometimes, or lending a hand in securing the canvas and apron that was needed for the fighting ring.

It was easy work for him, and he needed the money if he wanted to get through school by even a little, but the people who occupy spaces like that, they weren't too keen on a snake hybrid being allowed in during daytime hours; helping or not.

It was just a bigheaded bull, a new bartender who caught a glimpse of the few iridescent scales that gleamed acrosss the expanse of his shoulder blade, and before he could even smell the unprompted vexation wafting off of the hulking man- he was thrown across the room.

He was nearly impaled on the bar top, nearly. Though the fox jumped in almost too eagerly after the bull busted your boyfriend's top lip open, introducing himself as the owner and kicking the aggressor off of Yukhei after professing his status.

As far as the story goes, the owner was still quite upset at the fact that two bottles of expensive liquor had been busted and wasted in the whole debacle, news to Yukhei since he had been, well, fearing for the safety of his face due to the close proximity of six inch horns.

So, it was lose a decent job and have no other options left as such a reclusive breed, or use his strengths to his advantage.

You shudder everytime you think of the ladder. Nothing prepared you for hearing that from Xiaojun's mouth, for seeing him look so weak, so close to the brink of deterioration. He looked broken.

Your noodles are cold now, and you curse yourself for allowing your thoughts to wander off to a place so unnecessary to revisit.

You're too tired to heat them back up, moving from your window sill to your quaint, welcoming bed. You peel the thick comforter back and nestle yourself into the warmth, grabbing your old (but still functioning) laptop in hopes of finding something new to watch on netflix. You have too much of a habitual personality to start a new t.v. show, but a movie might suffice.

It's hard to focus your attention elsewhere, to not to think of him. He's the type of person that you can't ever get used to seeing upclose, so effortlessly beautiful it's almost painful, an ache in the pit of your chest.

Maybe that's silly to say, but it's not jusy because you're sickeningly in love with him. It's this force that he carries with him, like he's made of pure, raw sunlight.

You close your eyes for a moment, picturing the way his plush lips feel against yours when he smiles into a kiss, noses touching and giggles resonating in his throat as you play with the wild strands of his perpetually fluffy hair.

You think of all the things that make him inherently him. His hands, the way they always seem to be steady and gentle, elegant, despite their size. Even when he caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles, it's featherlight.

It's in his nature to be so agile, so stealthy in his movements. You sometimes forget he's a snake hybrid at all, his outside appearance similar to a lion shifter, or a wolf.

It's probably the most unobvious thing about him, unless he were to take his clothes off and reveal the miscellaneous littering of scales across his broad back and shoulders.

They're similar to his eyes in the way that they're usually onyx until they glimmer under light, ranging from shades of dazzling silver to veridian. You think of the way he hums in satisfaction everytime you run your fingertips along the surface, eyes captivated with wonder.

You jolt in surprise as your phone rings obnoxiously loud, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at the prospect of your pleasant thoughts being so rudely interrupted. Your indignation vanishes when you see the caller ID.

Hendery 🦂 is calling...

"Hello?" Your voice is neutral for the most part, the rational side of your mind trying not to panick so suddenly.

That doesn't last long once you hear the troubled pang in the hybrids voice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.

"Hey, uh- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry to have to- look Yukhei is hurt-" You're sure all the blood in your body has suddenly been drained, stomach twisting as the words fly from Hendery's mouth. "We can't go to the hospital, Yangyang isn't with us and-"

This can't be happening. Not again. Who lied? Did they all lie?

"Is it the same club?" The stillness in your voice is unsettling, though you're pretty sure you might be going into shock at this point. You can't feel your limbs properly.

"Yes." He replies bleakly, and your fingers tremble as they end the call.

It's like you knew, you always know. There's something about being with Yukhei that has given you a sort of second sense, it's like knowing when a step is missing and you're about to trip.

You know you're going well over the speed limit, skin pulled fiercly over your knuckles with the force in which you're gripping the steering wheel. You're only aware you're crying when streaks of warmth cascade down your cheeks and soak into Yukhei's sweatshirt that you threw on before leaving.

You never wanted to be back here, navigating the slim dark streets to find that familiar, seemingly abandoned building with a simple red logo spray painted on the side. It can only be understood by hybrids, humans not able to translate.

The building is tucked so far back behind the city, it makes for an incredibly unpleasant journey, along with an already unpleasant destination. It's a dark corner in a place full of light. It's the door to a shadow world, to the creatures that find comfort in malice and anguish.

You're surprised you've arrived so fast, not even aware of the strange, curious glances you've been getting by passerbys. No doubt wondering what a little human girl is doing in one of the most dangerous, underground parts of the city.

But they can't touch you, not legally anyways. It's forbidden for hybrids to harm humans, and none of them would dare risk exposing their little side show for a taste of a mundane.

It's Xiaojun you spot first, his conspicuous head of nearly white hair sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the darkness of the alleyway. It's only as you approach that you can see he's slumped under the weight of Yukhei, who's figure is akin to a wilting flower.

You feel your stomach lurch, though adrenaline is what drives you to throw yourself out of the car like a madman, leaving the door open and all to run to his side. You share a brief glance with a wide eyed Hendery, gesturing towards the car as your knees scrape fiercly against the pavement.

You almost don't want to look at him completely, gaze set on Xiaojun as you round to the other side and slip yourself underneath Yukhei's heavy arm. You can't, however, ignore the blood that sticks to your skin, nor the scent of it clinging to him. He murmurs your name with a strained cry, your knees wobbling.

It's a complete blur, happening in what you guess is only about two to three minutes. Yukhei slurs his words as you and the blonde haired hybrid hoist him up with all your strength, agonized groans bellowing from his throat while you move him to the back seat.

You help to manuever his long legs into the car, every bruised, wounded, and bloody part of him visible now underneath the light above your heads. It's even worse than before. How can it be worse?

You throw yourself in beside him, Xiaojun slamming the door shut before he sprints to the passengers seat, Hendery hitting the throttle as soon as everyone is secure inside the vehicle.

You turn to your boyfriend, your love. You have to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, terrified to accidentally skim past a laceration. You whisper his name into the darkness, hoping that he'll answer and that he won't disappear before your very eyes.

Getting him inside of their apartment complex isn't easy. And not just because it takes two of you to carry him, his body too weak to do much of anything; it's mostly because carrying a half dead looking hybrid to an elevator isn't really the most optimal option.

Luckily Hendery knows how to pick the lock to the fire escape hatch in the back of the complex, allowing the four of you to somewhat subliminally carry him up two flights of stairs before finally arriving at apartment 236.

Not the essiest thing you've ever done. But none of that matters, nothing matters right now except for him.

"Couch!" Xiaojun yells, Hendery two steps ahead of him, pushing the old coffee table in the center of the livingroom to the far right corner.

Yukhei stammers before you both set him onto the piece of furniture as gently as you can, a choked whimper being the only sound he can make. It's even worse in this light, all the shared meals and nights binge watching movies suddenly lightyears away. Now this room is tainted with the sight of him falling apart.

"What do we do? Oh god, what do we do?" You speak through a broken sob, on your knees next to your boyfriends limp figure, his long limbs hanging off the side of the couch while his head struggles to stay upright.

You don't even realize Hendery has ran off until he is jogging back with a first aid kit that probably won't do any good, not in this situation. He reads the uncertainty and disbelief in your expression, quickly rebuttling.

"Venom, we need his venom," He and Xiaojun share a look that you don't quite understand, but you're too overwhemled to question it right now. "We just need to clean him up first, as best as we can."

He hands you a warm, damp washcloth and you are quick to bring it to Yukhei's face, the only place that isn't too damaged to touch and somewhat tamper with. His swollen eyes struggle to stay open, but once your hand caresses his sweltering cheek, he uses all of the strength he has to mutter your name.

"I'm so- sorry, you don't...you don't under..understand."

You place a gentle finger to his busted lips, pulling back immediately as his eyebrows furrow and he winces, not yet aware of the two others pouring some sort of unfamiliar disinfectant onto the open wounds.

"Shh, not right now. We gotta get you fixed up, okay? It's gonna be alright."

The words are probably more comforting to yourself, though nothing is comfortable at a time like this. Everything is happening so fast, Hendery gently pushing you to the side and whispering something to Yukhei that is inaudible to your human ears.

He nods weakly, and you can't hide your horror nor contain the frightening gasp that escapes your throat when Xiaojun approaches and bares his claws, shoving them into your boyfriends side.

You're frozen in place, time stopping for a an infinite moment as you sit and watch what's unfolding. Hendery muffles Yukhei's agonized shout initially, removing his hand when he realizes that the cobras fangs have been ejected.

He holds a vile up to his mouth, puncturing the top open with the sharp edge of his tooth, allowing the sticky clear venom to drip down into the glass container. You've never seen Yukhei's fangs before, mostly because snake hybrids and cobras alike aren't one to use them unless absolutely necessary.

Life or death.

It happens quick, Xiaojun with a needle inbetween his deft fingers, likely from the inconspicuous looking first aid kit, pulling the venom through the syringe before handing it to Hendery to inject into your boyfriends carotid artery.

His body stiffens as if he's gone into shock, veins protruding from his skin and pulsing like his heart beat has gone past the safe amount of BPM.

And then, he's still, so still it feels like you're getting a glimpse of what it's like to lose him, and you still can't find the strength of the willpower to move.

"He'll be okay, I promise,"

Hendery is by your side in an instant, panting as perspiration drips from his forehead. "He just needs to rest, he's the only type of hybrid who can use his own venom as a healing agent."

It feels like you've stepped into a different dimension, like somehow now is the time that your brain finally begins to over process the fact that none of these boys are human and that monsters really do exist.

They're not the monsters. You're not bothered by their otherworldy state of being in the slightest, but there's something in the way that they speak that makes it seem as though you're missing a vital detail, like a page ripped straight from the spine of a book. A page that could very well determine the entire stories fate.

"Where's Yangyang? And the birthday?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, incredulity in your tone.

He and the blonde haired eagle look guilty beyond belief, hesitancy in their eyes. The anger that boils inside of you, starting from your toes and rising to your ears, pushes you to stand to your feet and move past them to where Yukhei lies.

Theur admittance to whatever the fuck is going on, can come later. You don't trust yourself right now anyways, too angry, too overcome with grief to yell or shout or throw things in the way you wish to.

You sit by his side, and reach out to brush his tousled hair out from in front of his scraped forehead, examining the violet and burgundy hues that blooms from underneath his honey colored skin.

"I love you, I'll always be here."

You whisper, lying your head against the cushion next to his, exhaustion suddenly clouding your brain and allowing you to forget, just for a second, that you almost lost him.

The sunlight burns red from behind your eyelids, last nights events not yet in the forefront of your brain until you hear the low timbre of voices from the other room, haunting images forcing you awake.

You sit up too fast, head pounding from the restless sleep you've endured. You realize you're in someones bed when you kick off a familiar pair of black sheets from your feet, the setting around you like a second home. Yukhei's room. Someone must have carried you here during the night.

You're quicker and more eager than you've ever been in the morning, feet carrying you towsrds the half open door as you practically sprint into the livingroom, expecting to see him lying there as immobile as he was last night; preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don't see anyone on the couch, in fact. It takes you a moment to register that everyone is in the kitchen, huddled around the island. You're too beside yourself to realize that the broad, tan back that's facing you belongs to him, until he turns around.

You don't get a good look at his face, already smashing yourself against his chest with a force that doesn't even budge him. You gasp suddenly, recoiling in fear as you step away, terrified that you've hurt him.

His long arms are still open expectantly, doe eyes glossy as he stares back at you in confusion, your expression as shocked as it is dubious. He's healed. Well, not completely. Your fingers trace over the scabs that have formed where gashes and lacerations once were just hours before.

He pulls you to him again by your elbows, and you look up at him through wet lashes to see that the bruises are no longer a severe shade of purple and blue, only slightly yellow.

It doesn't take many more glances before you're forcing yourself up onto your tippytoes, grasping his cheeks in your palms and pressing your mouth against his.

His arms enclasp you fiercly, nearly making it hard to breathe but you don't care, not at all. Not when he's whole and alive and smells like himself again, not when he's kissing you like it's been years since you've last seen eachother.

When you part you realize that Yangyang and Kun are here, and the confusion that you harbored last night for their actions and secret glances, has you reluctantly pulling away from the embrace of your lover.

You see it now, the fear and worry that colors his expression. All of their expressions. Your eyes are suddenly fierce, fists clenching by your sides as your nails form crescents into the flesh of your palms.

"Someone better tell me what the everliving fuck is going on and why this happened again," You've never been so furious, have never lashed out as anyone as angrily as you are right now.

"A birthday party? Really? That's the excuse you came up with?!" Yukhei hangs his head in shame, knowing that it's in all of their best interest to let you finish. It's only fair.

"And you all knew, every single one of you let him walk into that ring again, every single one of you were okay with letting him die!" Your voice rises an octave, fresh tears now springing from your tired eyes.

"And I know there's something more, you're all shit liars. I just don't know what's going on and I dont know why, I just need to know why?" You sound defeated this time, covering your face in your hands as the cobra cradles your head against his chest.

You're too weak to pull away, too run dry to sob any longer.

Kun is the first to speak.

"His venom, it's-" You can only guess that someone glares at him, Hendery murmuring to his elder to let Yukhei tell you himself.

You finally glance up, meeting the teary eyed gaze of the man you love, who looks as terrified as he does stricken with unidentifiable emotions. He's silent as he deliberates with himself mentally, looking over his shoulder and nodding to the group in a silent understanding, before gently guiding you towards his room.

Venom, money, high.

These words echo in your brain as you sit across from Yukhei on his bed, his eyes too scared to meet yours as he finally finishes his explanation.

It's the whole hearted truth, as painful as it is to admit to the one person in this world who he so desperately wants to protect. But it had to be done, for your sake and for his.

"So the drinks you were making, they were filled with your venom...and people drank it willingly?"

You're still struggling to understand, no anger or shame laced in your voice as he expected, though it still doesn't lighten the indescribable weight that sits on his chest. He swallows.

"It's like...it's like a high for some people, or like being drunk but to an extreme, euphoric level," He anxiously picks at the skin beside his nail beds.

"The fox knew he could profit off of it, but it's still taboo. He was my employer and could easily pass me off as a crooked cobra hybrid who was sneaking my venom into drinks for secret cash. So he told me if I wanted to stop, for good, I had the chance to get my get out of jail free card during the upcoming fight,"

Your heart feels as if it might rip through your shirt, the pain and obvious regret in his voice tangible. It all makes since bow, though, in hindsight. Though you still don't understand why the others were so involved.

As if he read your mind, he continues.

"And Hendery, Xiaojun...they were just protecting me. They'd wait and make sure that I left the club everynight unharmed, and they knew the cost of confronting the fox. Hendery's venom as a scorpion is lethal, so he couldn't get involved for obvious reasons. They weren't happy or okay with any of it, I just didn't have a choice."

You suddenly feel like the guilty one now, chest heavy as the pieces of the gigantic, horrifying, and confusing puzzle finally come together.

It's alot to take it, more than you were prepared for. And your anger isn't directed at them anymore, in fact wvery ounce of fire that had been raging inside of you burns at the idea of that stupid fucking fox doing all of this for cash.

Sensing that he's still worried you're upset, you reach out to grab his fidgeting hands, his chin lifting only slightly as to peer at you through his dark lashes.

When you crawl over to him and on his lap, he looks dumbfounded. Even more so as you kiss him gently, softer than a rose petal as your thumb caresses the apple of his cheek.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, I'm so so sorry." Tears slip past your waterline before you can contain them and he kisses them away just as quickly, voice incredulous.

"Baby no, don't apologize, ever," He lifts your face to his, eyes wide and full of reverie. "I'm okay, I'm okay because you were there and I promise with my entire heart and soul to never get wrapped up in that shit ever again, ever."

You kiss him again, the taste of tears not bothering either of you. You just need to feel him, to remind yourself that he's not going anywhere. You can't shake the thought of how he looked last night.

"I almost lost you, Yukhei you...I thought I'd wake up and you'd be gone and I'd never get to kiss you again or hear your laugh," He's crying now, too, silently as he closes his eyes and you bury your face against his neck. His hands cradle you as if he has the entire world in his grasp.

"Shh I'm here, m'not going anywhere baby. I'll stay forever with you."

And he means it to his very core, feels it in his bones, solidifed as you kiss him again and again like he suplies the air in your lungs. You're both so in love with every fiber of your being, so enraptured in the feeling of one another.

When you push at his chest to silently ask him to lie down, he's quick to assert who's taking care of who, eagerly gripping your soft waist and letting your back fall against his mattress.

"My sweet angel," You arch into his touch as his plush mouth nibbles the soft skin underneath your jaw, traveling across the expanse of your throat and to the sides of your neck. "Let me make you feel good, been so patient with me."

It dawns om him that you're wearing his hoodie and he swears his heart throbs in his chest, quick fingers pulling the garment over your head and tossing it to the side with your shirt underneath, before continuing his descent.

He's shamless in the way he cups your breasts in his wide palms, gazing up at you through slitted eyes as his pink tongue flicks over one of the hardening buds. You reach out to touch any part of him you can, whining as he repeats the action on the opposite breast.

He wanders even further down, across every inch of your tummy, humming all the while in satisfaction at how sweet you smell between your legs, at how needily you whine for him.

He's all too excited now, pulling the shorts from your body with a force that should've ripped them in half, kissing your inner thighs sweetly but not as earnestly as he'd like. He's just too focused on the enticing sight of your glistening sex, mouth practically watering.

He doesn't wait for you to prepare yourself, digging in immediately. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in the strands as his mouth encloses around your throbbing clit, suckling before he licks a broad stripe over your folds.

"Yu-yukhei...oh!" Your thighs threaten to close around his head but he holds them open with an inescapable grip, endulging himself wholeheartedly as he slurps and licks at every drop of juice that flows from you.

It's a maddening sort of pleasure, your toes curling and belly tightening. His nose is pressed against your pubic mound as he keeps his mouth over your center, wriggling his head back and forth as his tongue flicks over your clit at an inhuman pace.

"Ah, I can't- oh fuck." You're blabbering incoherently, though it only drives him further. He relishes in the way you're writhing underneath him, the way you're so wet just for him and him only.

"Want you to cum on my tongue, can you do that for me?"

All you can do is cry out in response, bucking your hips against his mouth as he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue. You're so close it's humiliating, but he's elated, already sensing your orgasm in the way your walls throb and pulse with every lick to your bud.

The sounds are so nasty, so lewd in the way your wetness combined with his saliva is so audible in the small room.

You cum without a warning, not being able to speak or do much of anything except jerk and twitch as he keeps his mouth on you, unrelenting in his determination to taste your release.

You whimper.

"Fuck me, please Xuxi p-please."

You beg softly, with half lidded eyes and he reluctantly lifts himself from your center with dark yet gentle eyes, mouth saturated in your juices. He can't resist you.

He kisses you like this, and you don't complain one bit. Not when he's got his pants down faster than you can blink, gripping his thick shaft and rubbing the ruby hued tip of his cock against your sensitive clit.

"Want me to fill you up, huh? Want me to make you mine forever and ever."

You're unable to verbally respond when he pushes himself in, not even an ounce of friction due to a mixture of your cum and his spit coating your walls as well as the inside of your thighs. He buries himself to the hilt, your hands on his broad back.

His pace is determined but not frantic, body held up by his forearms so he can continue to kiss you while his dick spears into you. Your lips are one of his favorite parts about you, so soft, the perfect size to slot right against his.

"Yes Xuxi, want you to give me all your cum, pretty p-please."

He supresses a hiss, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you wrap your thighs around his middle, heels pressing into his lower back.

"Mm, gonna give you my babies," He doesn't miss the way your walls flutter around him, as he pulls himself almost all the way out before sheathing himself inside of you once more. "Want you to be leaking with my cum for a w-whole week."

You whimper, and it drives him mad. His hips are agile and precise as he fucks into you now, controlled and skilled. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is, exactly what has you clinging onto him for dear life.

"You're s-so big, missed your dick, missed you."

He's the one whining now, scattering wet kisses under your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. It's like no other sensation, being together like this. You can't tell where he ends and you begin, all you can do is feel.

"You like my big dick, hmm? Want me to stuff that pretty pussy full." His words are filthy, but his candence is sweet like honey, earnest in the way his voice trembles. He's just as high on pleasure as you are.

"Please, please, yes."

His thrusts become harsher in the way he fucks back into you, reaching past your cervix. Your fingers bury themselves into the dark strands of his hair as quiet whimpers bubble from your throat, senses overwhelmed with Yukhei Yukhei Yukhei.

It doesn't help that he's so vocal in your ear, the deep timber of his groans sending chills down your spine and causing your belly to fill with heat, spreading throughout your limbs like wildfire.

It's not just fucking, this feels like what making love really is. It's a reunion in more ways than one, a solidification of your bond. You wish it could last forever, the scent of his skin, the softness of it. You can feel every muscle in his body strained with the strength he uses to please you, to reach depths that have your toes curling.

When you turn your head to kiss the skin just below his ear, his hips falter.

"Oooooh, shit baby m'gonna cum, fuck."

You pull his face from your shoulder to smash his lips against yours, cradling his face as he cups the back of your neck. His tongue slips inside your mouth, and you purposely squeeze your walls around his length.

He mewls, cursing under his breath. "Cum for me, please Yukhei," He's looking right into your eyes, lips kiss bitten, skin flushed. "Make sure you give me every last drop."

He's done for, hair sticking to his forehead, a broken groan straining to leave his throat as he pushes himself as deep as possible, both of you watching each others expression in the process.

"I love you I love you I love you." He chants, while spurts of his cum paint your walls white. You unravel when you look down between your bodies for a fleeting moment, catching a glimpse of the amount he's released as he disappears inside of you over and over again.

He kisses your face as you struggle to grasp onto him, the pleasure too much to handle, physically and emotionally. It has tears springing from your eyes, nails digging into his biceps as he continues to fuck you through it.

"I love you too, I love you so much." You finally reply, finding the strength to speak no matter how slurred and sleepy it might sound.

He smiles warmly with irrevocable adoration, eyes crinkling at the corners. He strokes your cheek with the soft pad of his thumb, leaning down to peck your nose, and then your forehead, and then your eyelids.

"You have my entire heart," He professes. "I'll always be here."

"Guess I saw that cumming."

Xiajun glares at Hendery.

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abyssmaju · 3 years

Text

𝓡omeo

❥ Tartaglia x gn reader

❥ Warnings: childe story and voiceline spoilers, slight possessiveness (it's like one line), a tiny bit of angst, tortimini typical aggression but not towards reader bc he is Feral

❥ summary: a knight and their fool have a bit of a serious discussion

❥ word count: 1,394

I haven't written something like this in sooo long, but for some reason this prompt just really snatched me and said "is for you". Inspired by a post by @outlet-0 but I think I deviated a tiny bit! Also I know canon states that none of the knights saw Signora Do Her Thing, but I needed angst fuel and it just Felt Correct ✨

The sound of young children making mischief and merry in equal parts filled your ears as you roamed the streets of Monstadt on your patrol. Times like this left you wondering just why your job even existed. With the threat of Stormterror no longer looming over the great walls of your nation, you felt as if you would be contributing just as much by lying at home or miles away in his arms. Your heart and mind are clouded with a dizzying feeling that can be defined as bittersweet. When you look to the skies, you only see the lifeless ocean blue of his eyes that tempt you like a siren’s song. You never fail to throw yourself overboard into his tempest.

It almost makes you ill—the way you can see in your head the distress of your archon as the beautiful Snezhnayan woman ripped his gnosis from his body. She would have done the same thing to your beating heart had you the courage to try to stop her. It makes you close to bedridden when your thoughts are followed by just how willingly you would let her comrade in arms Tartaglia do just that. Metaphorically speaking, he had already done it over a thousand times, and yet each time you had savored the pain. Nearly every day you hone your skills as you swear yourself against the Fatui, if not for the innocents they’ve killed, then for your beloved archon whose eyes sparkle with mirth and childlike joviality that you desire so desperately to protect.

As you let yourself spiral down into your thoughts, the scent of foreign waters and something expensive stops your mind completely. Before you can even begin to think about him, you hear his voice, “Pssst, hey! Cute little knight over there! Pay me some attention, it’s your knightly duty!” You can’t even roll your eyes, you know as well as he does that you were awaiting his next visit on the edge of your seat. You make your way to the shady corner that he claimed for his own, thinking that it seems like your longing summoned him from thin air. Unfortunately, you know that you could think of him every hour of the day—as you do—, but no amount of begging the stars in the sky will bring him to your side.

“Ah, there’s my cutie. You looked so serious just now, I almost didn’t recognize you! Before I go on, while I’d love to sit here in this shady alley—there are probably better places for us to spend our time. Allow me to steal you away?” You always give in to him and that smile he wears that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It goads you and provokes you, perpetually beckoning you to an unknown challenge that somehow makes it even more endearing.

“Ajax...”, you whisper his name as if the world would shatter if anyone else in Monstadt had the pleasure of letting it fall off their tongue, “I’m on duty—“.

“Oh, what a shame! My wonderful love doesn’t want to see me while they’re being knightly and chivalrous! Yet how chivalrous of a knight could you be to break this fair maiden’s heart?” His theatrics never fail to amuse you. Your jester, yet you can’t quite decipher whether his act is wholly to amuse you or if it’s practice for one of the many different titles he had assumed.

You sigh deeply and let out a laugh at his childish antics. “Of course I was about to accept your request just a moment before you opened your large mouth my fair maiden. Lead the way and I shall follow as always.”

His grin grew ever so slightly and one of his eyebrows quirked, a tell that he had already generated another one of his grating responses. “What a pity that you feel my mouth is large, I suppose it’s all the same when you tell me how much you love it nearly every time we meet! I’ll catch you near the statue of the seven at Windrise. There’s a cliff nearby and that’s where I was hoping to take you.” Before you can even begin to counter his taunting remark, he practically vanishes with the only proof you have of his visit to Mondstadt being the scent on the wind and the slight irritation that the lilt of his voice when teasing you always leaves.

Sooner rather than later, you arrive at Windrise, having told your fellow knights that you’d like to do some patrolling outside of the walls to reduce the number of threats to merchants and otherwise unassuming travelers. It was only a half-lie as you know that between the hilichurls that your bloodthirsty lover struck down as simple “target practice” and the slimes you aggressively persuaded to allow you passage to the rendezvous point, the roads will be just a little quieter tonight. You can’t help but close your eyes and smile at the thought of the quiet that will allow you to focus solely on his voice, ignoring the saint on your shoulder reprimanding you for being so selfish as to think not for the people of Mondstadt but their incubus of an enemy.

“Wow, what a smile you have on your face. You must be thinking of me again. Then again, you’re always thinking of me. If there was a contest for thinking of Tartaglia, you’d win hands down!” To your displeasure, your smile grows at the sound of his voice.

“Had I the strength to throw you off this cliff, this smile would be even wider. Unfortunately, my code of honor proves to be a hindrance at this moment.” He can’t hide the smile on his own face as he takes your hand in his.

“That code of honor of yours...it stops you from a lot of things, huh?”

You look into his eyes that the stars refuse to illuminate as if they’re filled with the most toxic of ichor. The longing and subtle pain you feel in your chest as you register the meaning behind his words has you wanting only to jump into that ichor, drink deep of it, and suffer the consequences if only to be spared of a minute more away from him.

“Yes. Yes, it does. Things like changing my name and running to Snezhnaya to become a puppet of the Tsaritsa rather than of Monstadt. Things like singing your name to the birds in the morning who know what you’ve done. Things like looking my archon in the eye after I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you...” sometime during your romantic spiel, he had started to twirl you around in a jagged rhythm to a song of silence. Maybe Barbatos had started to play a song that only you weren’t allowed to hear for your sins. You started to feel that overwhelming sensation that you get sometimes when he leaves, but you refuse to let the tears spill over.

He lets out a gentle hum and smiles once more, only this one never had a chance of dreaming to reach his eyes. “Maybe one day...the day I conquer this world and destroy everything in my path. The knights, the other harbingers, the archons themselves...then you won’t have to be anybody’s pawn—no, I won’t let you. You’ll be mine and nobody else’s and my only order is for you to stay by my side.”

The demented twist on his romantic words made them organic as he put a halt to your moonlit waltz to look deep into your eyes. You looked back and your heart nearly burst with adoration. It wasn’t often that he asked you to stay with him, he knew that your relationship wasn’t ideal. He voiced multiple times that he wouldn’t blame you if you decided this secretive love wasn’t enough and you decided you wanted out, not once did he insist that you stay. Until tonight.

Swept away by his riptide, you couldn’t help but embrace your conquerer with all your might in the hopes that the action would meld you together as an odd blade pointed at the obstacles between the two of you. As you looked back up at him, you could swear that this one smile did meet his eyes.

If you were just a little better at reading him, you’d know he’d been looking at you like that this entire time.

#childe x reader #the formatting is prob bad #genshin x reader #daydreams from the abyss #I mus #I must embrace the cringe 😔😔😔😔#is it ok to be cringe here in this Burger King tonight?#otacon voice: I don’t know snake #I hope it’s ok that I tagged you!!!

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clovermotors · 2 years

Text

@sebasstian-vettel you like angst you GET angst

kinda sad / ambigious tho so LOL this is kinda. practice 4 description??? this is kinda wack tho idfk i push out meaningless metaphors a lot here

carlando bc they the main ship

The edges of the way Carlos and Lando meet- in embraces, in kisses- are sanded down over time- now rounded where it was once angular. Softer, maybe. More mature, experiences dulling the once sharp arrow that had so much willpower to pierce through every obstacle.

Even then, there's gentle anger roaring through Lando, at least, with the betrayal that rises inside him. It's like water filling his lungs, maybe, as he's neck-deep in the sea, only tip-toeing to propel himself off the ocean floor, swallowing water like nobody's business.

If Carlos comes any closer, Lando thinks he may fall, fall, fall, deep into the sea of his memories and never ever return.

He turns so that now he's leaning against the cold window of a random Tesco in London. Lando wishes that he never got a glimpse of one man he hasn't seen in years. The jacket starts to slowly suffocate him, maybe, the scarf suddenly brings him the chill of winter instead of keeping him warm. He bears the weight of tiresome memories- but at the same time, they're tireless.

So many years- and even then, Carlos Sainz Jr has never changed, never changed in how deeply, how painfully he's carved into Lando, the way he's able to affect Lando with such incredible force.

Time will heal everything, he was once told, but really- distance only makes the heart grow fonder.

The affection he used to- still does- feel for Carlos boils, bubbles in Lando's chest, in his ribs, his heart. Like a pot, bubbling with such aggression that it's almost overflowing-

And then it overflows, it spits out water over and over again, throwing liquid over the edge as he's reminded of the same gentle way Carlos could always calm him down, rough callused hands handling his face like porcelain. Swiping his thumb over tears that would fall in dire times, a quiet voice that was always this constant. The tears pouring out now are nothing but pearls, precious, miniscule, insignificant, Lando tells himself.

Carlos Sainz Jr. His name itself carries so much weight, like a large catch on a fishing rod. Winding, and winding, and winding, provoking the memories, until it snaps and the huge load finally leaps up into the air. It doesn't fly over his head. This could very well be the best way Lando can express himself. Carlos loves- loved- the ocean. It's been too long. Maybe he doesn't even like it anymore.

Maybe he looks like a weirdo now, standing outside Tesco, the mess of everyone else. All he sees in front of him- vaguely, he's spacing out if anything- is a blur, all around him, moving, rushing here, rushing there. And again, this is certainly nothing but the impact of one Carlos Sainz. God. Rooted to the spot, firmly nailed down, firmly held in place.

And when they lock eyes, Carlos now towering over him unlike what feels like years ago, Lando doesn't stop himself from falling, perhaps. The life of longing never suited him, but he finds himself trapped in the same place, at the same time, over and over again. He stares deeper into Carlos' eyes. He does all he can to ensure that he's never thought about him for the past nine years.

Then there's the age-old question. "What are you doing here?" and Lando thinks he knows the answer.

And it feels like there's nothing. The water continues bubbling. The fire continues licking at the sea.

i still only write short things whoops

#clover wrote something

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kashimos-hajime · 2 years

Note

wait can you explain more about tumblr writing culture? /gen

yeah sure. more under the cut!

disclaimer: i am not saying any of this content is BAD, or problematic, or anything negative at all. i said that the culture does not fit with my writing style, which is often short stories often around 10k+ words or longer. i've posted a fic that's 40k once im pretty sure.

generally, tumblr's reading audience don't have a long attention span. they like quick, short, to-the-point fics. or they're headcanons, or blurbs, or they're smut. there are some long fics, but they often include smut/the op already has an active following/its a stroke of luck/it's full of very attractive tropes to audiences.

this clashes with how i write. besides the word count, i don't really employ a lot of tropes in a stereotypical way if that makes sense. (best friends-to-lovers, neighbours-to-lovers, fluff, etc.) my writing might include it, but it's rarely a main focus/i go about it at a roundabout way. don’t really write a lot of smut, either. plus, it's angst, but kinda the more serious angst which is kinda heavy for some people. which is totally understandable! i try to go realistic depictions of human emotion and reaction, and things rarely go simply because,,, idk. i just like writing that way! that's my stylistic choice bc i like thought-provoking, or subtle meaning, etc. etc.

tldr: im super pretentious

anyway, all jokes aside, although i don't write for other people's validation, it wears down on you that you see fics do so much better than yours because you know you don't fit the mould of what is trending, and ao3 is a site dedicated to fanfiction which is much friendlier to authors than tumblr is.

again, i am in NO WAY insulting any writers who do write short fics, use tropes, etc.! nor am i insulting audiences who enjoy these fics. i think as long as they're enjoying what they're doing, i have no right to say anything because writing is about having fun with what you write, maybe give a meaningful lesson/story, and reading is about consuming that stuff.

tumblr writing conventions in 2022 just dont work for me, and that’s ok!

#willowansweringasks #anon #ao3 move is becoming more and more attractive im droolin

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nadiineross · 3 years

Text

widow angst abt not loving sombra but also maybe loving sombra, going in circles and circles like a lil caged animal, fucked up tenses and incoherent half thoughts bc its almost 4am i wrote this in 30min

Widow doesn’t know, sometimes, what to do with choices. She’s hardly had to make any since she became who she is. But Sombra always demands that she make them: choose the restaurant they’re ordering from, pick which car to jack, do you want to go on a date?

With most of her emotions, few of them as they are, she doesn’t know what to do with. Doesn’t know if she wants them. Sombra wants her to know and, that, she knows she dislikes. But she likes Sombra, so she puts up with it.

Sombra is demanding in this way. If it were anyone else, Widow would have shot them by now, for being so presumptuous, for the arrogance, the selfishness, to ask this of Widow.

But Sombra’s Sombra and not many people like Widow, so she has to hold on to those who do. Or she doesn’t. Many people like Widow. She’s pretty, she knows. She flaunts it, after all, to get what she wants sometimes. Those people, Widow wouldn’t think twice about killing.

Sombra is different because she actually gives a damn. Sombra thinks she loves Widow which is something they have argued about a few times—always, Widow lets the matter rest once she has said her piece, because Sombra can be stubborn when she wants to be, can outwait Widow when she wants to.

Sombra’s special like that. She’s silly, idiotic, callous, but underneath it all, she’s still the most independently capable, motivated, and intelligent person Widow knows. She’s entirely self-made, entirely in control. And she hides it all behind being a cheeky shit because it’s the smart thing to do and Sombra is so smart.

Being with her makes Widow feel powerful. At night, when Sombra’s curled up against Widow’s side, Widow will brush her ridiculous purple hair out of her face, trace the curve of her forehead, and think about how the brain encased in Sombra’s hard head can, and in fact has, toppled small countries on its own. And this very brain thinks it loves Widow.

Widow isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth—usually.

It’s a matter of practicality, really. Sure, she’s not who she used to be and physically can’t process emotions the way regular people can. But she’s not dumb; she knows how relationships work. She was married, for God’s sake.

She knows, logically, it’s about communication and honesty, and reciprocation. Otherwise, it’s just leeching. It’s being deadweight.

Widow can force communication and honesty out of herself. Those are things that are within her capabilities. The necessary skills and traits are useful to Talon, so she has them. Reciprocation is a different story. Reciprocation is difficult.

She likes Sombra, so she will make a conscious effort to keep her around. Sombra tells her that this is what love is.

Widow agrees and disagrees. Of course, she cares for Sombra’s wellbeing, but she cares about Akande and Gabriel, too. She would never claim she loves them, not in the way she might with Sombra.

That’s another thing: uncertainty. She is certain she doesn’t love other people. She isn’t so sure with Sombra.

Sombra can be very convincing, if she puts the effort in—coercion is her whole schtick, anyway—and this Widow also likes and hates. They’ve done a bunch of new and exciting things together, and most of it, Sombra had talked Widow into. Widow values those experiences.

But Sombra also talks Widow into things she’s not so enthusiastic about. Submitting a form to Talon declaring their relationship? Thinking about that day makes her want to murder someone. So awkward.

Sombra also talks Widow into thinking she might love Sombra back. And that’s good if she does, and astronomically bad if she doesn’t. Because honesty. Widow doesn’t lie to Sombra often. Sombra doesn’t care if Widow lies about work since she could find out if she really wanted to but, out of all Talon personnel, she is the farthest from a Talon loyalist and couldn’t give less of a damn about its goals.

Otherwise, though, Widow doesn’t hide much from Sombra. Maybe if Sombra makes Widow feel vaguely embarrassed about something, Widow will try to hide it just to save face, but Sombra sees through that like glass and Sombra almost never means to make Widow feel like that, never maliciously. So, it makes it okay. It does.

Widow can’t say the same.

Other people’s misfortune, especially brought about by her own hand, makes her happy. Makes her feel powerful. She can’t help it if an impulse to be cruel seizes her. It doesn’t come up with Sombra except when she feels cornered and that’s when she feels uncertain and out of her element.

Sombra is excellent at provoking those feelings. Again, Widow doesn’t experience feelings the way Sombra does, so it’s okay sometimes. Only sometimes.

The first time Sombra had said she loved Widow, Widow had called her stupid and left her in the cold. And Widow knew, immediately, that it hurt Sombra.

She knew it would be best for the health of their relationship if she apologized and explained herself, but there wasn’t a strong desire to do that, so she had left it until Sombra came and gave Widow a piece of her mind. After that, Widow had indeed explained, slowly, off kilter, mildly irritated.

It’s a mess. Widow doesn’t mind a mess but it’s not good for relationships and Widow wants to maintain this one. Wants to clean it up, knows which tools to use to do so, knows how to use those tools. Doesn’t, in the end, have access to some of them.

Sombra must know this. Sombra does know this.

Still, Sombra insists on telling Widow she loves her.

Widow can’t stand it.

Widow tries to stand it.

“That’s love, Spider.”

Widow scoffs at the thought.

When she was young, her parents got her a fish and Widow had tried to take care of it and failed spectacularly. The fish had died within two days. Trying isn’t sufficient.

She hardly succeeds, with Sombra.

She can do the easy things, the small things that don’t inspire feelings of triumph from Widow. If Sombra wants to be held, Widow will do it. If Sombra wants a sounding board, Widow will get comfortable. If Sombra wants to fuck with Gabriel, Widow won’t snitch.

She fails, however, if Sombra needs anything close to emotional literacy. Sombra isn’t perfect either, she knows. She is painfully aware.

Sombra is presumptuous and arrogant. Sombra asks for too much. She doesn’t care about Talon, and Talon is the reason for Widow’s existence. She makes everything a joke, just under half of which fly over Widow’s head. Flaunts what she has and what is wholly unattainable for Widow.

It feels like a test of Widow’s compliance. Endurance, really. Certainly not love.

“Love can be about endurance.”

It can. Widow knows all these things could count. Should count, considering. But she wants to do better, be better. And she also doesn’t because she can’t and it’s unfair that she should be unhappy with herself for something she cannot fundamentally change.

She’s a bit resentful. She’s a bit tired. She’s a bit unhappy and a bit apathetic about all those things. Never a lot of anything. So, relatively speaking, it’s significant that she feels this way.

But then, full circle, it’s about endurance. She will endure those feelings. For Sombra.

Sombra who endures, always. Whose entire life has been about endurance. Does it as easily as breathing. Sombra is strong and smart, and those aren’t things Widow inherently likes about Sombra.

Widow likes the way those qualities make her life better. Sombra solves problems and does things for her.

If she loves Sombra, then it would be because Sombra loved her first. Does it the best because no one else loves Widow and there’s no competition, really.

And is that fucked up? Is that wrong?

Should she care? Liking someone because they like you doesn’t exactly measure up to terrorizing entire peoples, which she does for almost no money or other benefits other than her own enjoyment and a few more hours with Sombra which, again, is also for her own enjoyment.

Widow looks down at Sombra and thinks in cycles.

Her eyes are closed and she’s snoring, head in Widow’s lap. Widow cards her fingers through Sombra’s hair and feels heady with power.

If Widow could be a better person, she wouldn’t want to be, she doesn’t think. Except when it comes to Sombra. Because if Widow could love Sombra back, she would.

#spiderbyte #overwatch #spiderbytefics

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taxicabinmemphis · 4 years

Text

Prince Charming - Chapter 2

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six Indications of Janus lying are in italics but fair warning I do use italics on some words Janus says that aren’t lies bc yk they’re italics and they’re used for emphasis and Janus says some sTufF in this so idk just keep an eye out lol

Word count - 3,204 Pairing - Intrulogical, Prinxiety (I didn’t plan it, it just kinda happened and I rolled with it), pre Moceit, platonic Logicality Warnings - some characters are a lil insensitive in spots but I wouldn’t call them unsympathetic, creativitwins and Loceit angst ig (not shippy at all), swearing, food mention, sword fighting, self-deprecation from most sides bc they’re all wrecks, a character gets a lil hurt, pining, and then there’s Remus-typical behavior (body horror mentions, sexual innuendo/mentions of sexual stuff, and other stuff heh), if there’s anything else that should be tagged or put in the warnings, tell me!

A yellow light with a size similar (if not a little bigger) to that of a softball appeared in front of Virgil’s face for half a second before disappearing. When it faded, the sides could see Virgil’s mouth had closed and his gaze was directed to the floor. The room was enveloped in an agonizing silence.

“I told you we’d know, Patton,” Roman said quietly, with no real bite in his words.

---

“No matter that!” Janus exclaimed, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “You won’t be getting your crown jewels.”

“Looks like another lie, snake face!” Roman exclaimed, jumping back into the adversarial mood.

“It seems the red prince is running out of nicknames!” Remus teased. “Waste them all on Virgil, back when you were so intently hating him?”

Roman flinched; Remus had clearly hit a sore spot. “Take out your frustrations on my sword, you contemptuous, chaotic cephalopod!”

Remus laughed. “I like that! Lovely alliteration, dear brother. Though, it is something you’ve always seemed to excel at. Take with Virgil again--”

Roman swung his sword at Remus, red in the face and white at the knuckles. Remus parried it easily, clearly unsurprised by his brother’s attack. Neither sword moved for a moment, and Remus laughed again.

“So easily provoked, Roman? I expected better from a prince,” Remus said with a smirk. “Does talk about your...dare I say...regrets or unflattering moments make you want to maim a fellow side?”

Roman glared at him and shook his head, pushing his sword against his brother’s before striking at the green-clad side’s left shoulder. His sword was parried again.

“Not really.” The prince blocked a blow to the head, the swords in place there for a moment. “Just you.”

He pushed the Duke’s sword from his head and made a swipe at the legs. Remus jumped back but took a jab at Roman’s torso.

“Or,” Remus continued as if Roman hadn’t replied, “are you still in denial of the way you treated the purp man? Are you refusing to address it for fear of him realizing your mistakes...or of him admitting he was never fond of you in the first place and likely never will be?”

“STOP!” Roman shouted while disarming his brother, the rapier clattering to the floor. Roman held the tip of the sword in front of Remus’ nose.

“What is it, Roman?” Remus asked, alarmingly unfazed by the sharp metal so close to his face. “You cast me as the villain. This is me playing the part!”

Any small amount of movement Roman had been showcasing at that moment ceased, and Remus chuckled, using his brother’s stillness to back away from the sword. After taking a few steps back, the Duke put his hands up in a surrender-like position.

“Aren’t we antagonists supposed to be pushing your buttons, fucking with your mind to try to get you to lose? Is that not a classic villain tactic?”

Remus extended his leg to where his sword lay on the floor, still holding his gaze with a stiff Roman, and kicked the sword into the air where he caught it and immediately hit Roman’s sword to the side, disarming him.

“Or I could press different buttons if your demonization of Virgil is too fresh and painful a wound. I certainly have a lot to work with!”

Roman growled out a sound of anger, picking up his sword. “Oh, Remus, you forget.” He struck a hard blow to the dark side’s rapier. “I’m your brother too.”

Their fighting returned to a proper speed, Roman and Remus seeming equal.

“You crave attention and validation, which is probably the only reason you agreed to participate in today’s adventure,” Roman started, a grunt accompanying a few of his words. “You find it difficult, nearly impossible, to receive the latter, so you settle for being the most chaotic and disturbing version of yourself you can be in the hopes of a couple of spare glances in your direction.”

Remus’ confident smirk faltered.

“You haven’t argued against Logan sifting through your contributions in the hope that he will give you a spare compliment or show any sort of appreciation,” Roman added. “He’s logic, so he’s honest with no added emotions. You appreciate this, as there is no disgust-fueled fire that he uses to insult your creations.”

Roman felt Remus’ strikes get weaker.

“You’ve never known a true compliment or real validation, so anytime Logan doesn’t react negatively to your contributions makes you happy. Who can imagine what would happen if he complimented your work?”

Roman started to gain a clear upper hand, walking forward as Remus crept back.

“Maybe you’d...I don’t know...regret lodging that throwing star in his forehead,” Roman said with an air of nonchalance, a small smirk growing as he spotted Remus’ eyes widening and his grip on his sword loosening. “Regret shutting him up like everyone else does when he’s the only one who actually listens.”

Remus’ cuts got more reckless, less on target, and he was barely following the red prince’s sword.

“We’re creativity, insecurity is in our job description. You know Thomas will likely never do what you suggest him to,” Roman tacked on. “So you do everything to get your ideas noticed. Commented on. Even if it’s negative. But when Logan says something logical—not unkind—what do I know, maybe he’s even said something nice...you have a taste of validity. You experience appreciation."

Remus’ face hardened, and thrust his sword at Roman’s neck, only for the prince to parry it expertly.

“My only regret, dear brother,” Roman continued, walking forward so Remus’ back hit the cold, stone wall behind him, “is that after the original happiness that came from the logical side’s kind words subsides, you realize that you’re grasping at the straws of what everyone else has. And that, Remus, is a shame.”

The rapier fell to the floor.

Roman smiled at his win, sheathing his longsword. “You’re right, Remus! Pouring salt into the enemy’s wounds is a magnificent tactic! Thanks for the advice. Now, I’m taking this…” Roman picked up the rapier, “...and I’m taking it with me.”

---

Janus charged at Logan.

"Why are you participating in Roman's fantastical escapade so loyally, Janus?" Logan queried, blocking Janus’ attack, thankful he’d chosen a sword who’s wavy blade gave him the advantage of causing his opponent discomfort when their sword would collide with his. "You strike me as one of the last of us who would agree to such an unrealistic and far-fetched activity.”

Janus shrugged, the discomfort caused by his sword’s collision with Logan’s wavy-bladed sword showing visibly. “Everyone else did. And I definitely wanted to be stuck as the only side dealing with Thomas for a whole day.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think any of us want you to be the only one dealing with Thomas for an entire day.”

“Fair enough.”

Janus’ sword clashed into Logan’s, and it took the deceitful side everything not to loosen his grip on his sword because of the uncomfortable vibrations the intense collision with the flamberge caused. Logan held his sword horizontally over his head, never letting his grip falter, as Janus stared the logical side deep in the eye. The yellow-clad side took forceful steps forward, causing Logan to take several steps back.

Janus, upon noticing that if Logan were to go back further, he would trip and fall into broken glass, relented his aggressive pushing. He took a step back as he knew Logan would use his moment of kindness to his advantage, and thrust his sword at the side’s chest, turning it into a horizontal cut when Logan dodged it by moving to his right.

“That was a purely illogical mistake you just made, Janus,” Logan criticized. “One that could have been easily avoided.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me, Logan,” Janus said with an annoyed growl. “It’s not like I saved you from tripping and falling into broken glass or anything.”

Logan’s movements froze for half a second before he quickly composed himself. “Thank you, I suppose,” he said after a pause, half-heartedly aiming a strike at the deceitful side’s head.

Eventually, Janus and Logan’s swordfight had escalated to become much harsher. Janus was using the range his sword gave him well, and Logan’s wavy-bladed sword was only becoming more useful as his strikes became harder and more uncomfortable for the serpentine side to bear.

On the other side of the room, Patton tripped and cut his ankle on a piece of glass; the surprised but pained yelp that accompanied it caused Janus’ head to turn. Logan ignored the fatherly side’s exclamation and took Janus’ reflexive breach of focus as an opportunity to gain a more significant advantage. Janus was barely able to block the strike the logical side made at his left shoulder but ended up having to take a multitude of steps back and he ended up at a lower level.

Logan withheld a triumphant smirk, eyeing a nearby wall in his peripheral vision. Cornering Janus would make his victory almost guaranteed.

“Getting tired, Logan?” Janus said through gritted teeth.

“I thought you would be the fatigued one,” Logan replied in return.

Janus growled at him and reluctantly removed all of his focus from Patton and returned it to him and Logan’s sword fight.

“Does your function of self-care make it difficult to let Patton get hurt, much like it did earlier when you spared me an undesirable encounter with broken glass?” Logan inquired, and Janus couldn’t tell whether the logical side was teasing or genuinely curious. Janus supposed it was probably the latter as Logan had very little capacity for that type of teasing but still acted on the hypothesis that Logan’s motivations lied with the former.

Janus slammed his sword at Logan’s violently, making him raise an eyebrow. The action prompted Logan to return the amounts of force Janus was using and more. With every one of Janus’ harder swings, Logan’s were more intense. The indigo side could see the discomfort parrying his sword brought Janus was weighing on him.

Before long, Logan was hardly having any trouble walking forwards and pushing the yellow-clad side back. Janus’ arms and shoulders were starting to shake. A few seconds later, Janus felt his back make contact with the wall. Not roughly, not in any way that would hurt, but it still demonstrated Logan’s present superiority.

Janus gave him a menacing glare showing his current disdain for the logical side that would probably dissolve after this whole sword fighting fiasco was over.

“It seems I have you cornered, Janus,” Logan observed. “If you surrender now, you could make this much easier and less troublesome for both of us.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Janus retorted, flailing his sword at Logan in an embarrassing attempt at a strike to his neck.

“We could also,” Logan continued, easily blocking the strike, “sit back and watch the others’ shenanigans after we have agreed on the terms of your surrender.”

Janus gave Logan a smirk. “Oh Logan, no matter how fun that sounds, I’m not ready to give up yet.”

He turned his head to look at where Virgil and Patton were on the other side of the room, Logan’s gaze following. Patton had wrapped his ankle up in cloth and was looking significantly better, and Virgil was standing stock still, gaze directed at the ground. Patton was pacing in worry, most likely scared his friends would end up severely hurting each other. Virgil was unnaturally unbothered by this and was showing absolutely no emotion. His body refused to even give any hint of movement. Logan couldn’t be sure the anxious side was breathing. The behavior Virgil was displaying was concerning and not like him at all.

“Virgil,” Janus started and said side’s head raised to look Janus in the eye, “do me a favor and engage Patton in a sword fight. And don’t even think of going easy on him.”

A yellow light similar to the one seen the first time Janus ordered Virgil to do something appeared in front of Janus’ lips and flew over to Virgil, disappearing as it made contact with his head. Patton’s attention had been gained at the utterance of his name, and his expression held only what was sheer terror. Fighting his dark strange son was the last thing he wanted to do. But as it would seem, he was helpless to prevent such an event from occurring.

Logan watched with concealed horror as Virgil’s body turned robotically to face Patton, whose eyes were wide and cheeks flushed in fear and apprehension. Virgil drew his sword, a black bladed katana with a purple hilt, and raised it in front of him while getting into a fighting stance. His gaze locked on the moral side, no emotion or familiarity showing in his heterochromatic eyes.

“I’m sure you’re feeling absolutely at ease and unworried right now, Logan,” Janus remarked, slight mockery residing in his tone. He pushed himself off and away from the wall Logan had cornered him against. “Would a blow to the head ease your fulfilling tranquility?”

Logan turned away from Patton and Virgil, directing a hard glare at the lying side. He parried the strike Janus made at his head, and then directed another one at his adversary’s neck. The strikes Logan was making no longer held any mercy or restraint that could’ve been there at the beginning. “Why would you do that? You know how hard it must be on Patton to engage in a violent and aggressive activity with anyone, much less his best friend and the side he sees most as a son.”

Janus didn’t reply, focusing only on Logan’s sword. Logan noticed that Janus’ face was seeming to withhold emotion, the snake side’s jaw set and eyes contorted into a glare that appeared to be forced.

“Not to mention, Patton is wounded, Janus,” Logan reminded him, deflecting a thrust at his solar plexus. “You were so concerned a few minutes ago, but now you’re forcing him to not only walk on the foot but also to fight on the foot? The wound may not be anything severe, but as a function of self-preservation, don’t you care about him?”

Logan could hear a growl sound from Janus’ throat. “I couldn’t let you think that now could I?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed, the intensity in his strikes faltering. “You felt like you needed to prove something to me, didn’t you? That you don’t care about us.”

Janus made no indication that Logan was correct, but started to strike harder.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me, Janus. I know what you can do, I know how cruel you can act and how caring you can be.” Logan paused, not wanting to overstep or make assumptions. “And, I don’t need to say anything if you don’t want me to.”

“Patton should’ve been sword fighting like the rest of us anyway,” Janus stated, practically ignoring Logan’s previous statement. “Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself hurt.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at that. “Patton being a kind and gentle person is in no way a problem.” His words were accompanied by harsher cuts to Janus’ head and torso. Logan was starting to back him up again.

“It can be quite annoying, though, can’t it?” Janus snarled rhetorically.

Logan’s ferocity had returned to what it was directly after Janus ordered Virgil to fight Patton, not suspecting Janus’ previous statement of relaying any falsehoods.

As the fighting continued, Logan took note of how Janus’ incredibly long sword would likely not bode well in a shorter range. Deciding to use this to his advantage, Logan got in closer to Janus without pushing the side back. He struck a hard blow to the Zweihander that forced the sword to Logan’s right. Logan took this opportunity to give a small but effective kick to the deceitful side’s right knee, causing him to fall to his knees. He then easily disarmed Janus, and let the Zweihander clatter to the floor. Logan sheathed his flamberge and then picked up the black and yellow blade.

“It seems your...tactic of evoking an emotional response from me by causing distress on my fellow sides did not prove fruitful in your attempt for victory.”

“Maybe not, but it made the fight last longer,” Janus replied. “Besides, it was not fun at all. I mean, did you see the look on Patton’s face?”

Logan’s grip on Janus’ sword tightened. “I am currently finding it...difficult to restrain myself from knocking you out with your own weapon.”

Janus smirked. “Such emotion from the logical side, hmm? I thought you were the cold one with no emotions. I guess it figures that you’d have a capacity for anger and other emotions if you already experience a great deal of love.”

Any movement Logan was currently engaged in paused. “...What? What do you mean?”

“Come on, Logan,” Janus said smoothly, starting to stand on his feet, Logan instinctively pointing the sword at his throat. “You admitted it in the Q&A! Look at you, defending Patton like that, you...care about him, you love him. And even still, you care about me, the kick you gave to my knee was just enough to take me down and nothing more, and you totally wanted to fight me in the first place. You despise Roman, criticizing him when he advocates engaging in violent activity, obviously trying to protect him. Oh, and don’t get me started on Remus. You volunteered to sift through his contributions.”

“And debunk them, as well as expose them for being unrealistic and dangerous.”

“Yes, but say those things to Thomas. I haven’t had Remus complain about you to me once, totally implying that you’ve said downright terrible things about his creativity to him. While I’m sure much of this comes from your function as logic and what is a tendency to show any and all emotion on a topic that doesn’t require or call for it, there’s surely something else behind it. How could you not attach yourself to the one person who listens to you? Or will you not admit this as you’re scared he only listens to you because you listen to him? As a trade, a deal, an arrangement of begrudging respect and nothing more. You’ll listen to his ideas and he’ll listen to your opinions and criticisms, but you’re scared he only does it out of courtesy. But, Logan. Dear, sweet Logan. He listens to you. He’s the only one who does. And, what of motivations? Do they matter to that pesky little thing that is love?”

Logan gulps, his face reddening. He pushed the tip of the Zweihander closer to Janus’ throat. Any movement further would make the sword touch the skin of his neck, and perhaps break it. There was a long silence as Janus moved his hands up and above his head in a surrender-like position. Logan’s eyes stayed on him unwaveringly, but his mind was somewhere else.

It was almost as if they were in a staring contest, one neither of the two was focused on. Logan was raking over Janus’ words, hoping that the deceitful side would be lying the one time he wanted him to be, and Janus was feeling victorious despite his defeat.

Logan would have to leave the side eventually, either to help his fellow knights in their sword fights or later when they all would leave Reptania. But Janus was wrong, he was lying, he was messing with his mind. He had to be.

“You won, Logan. Yes, I’ll admit it. But we both know that I was right.”

Hope you enjoyed chapter two! Meant to post on Thursday but school happened. I love y’all, thanks, and chapter three which will happen sometime in the next week!

Prince Charming taglist: @the-sympathetic-villain @justanotherhumanstuff

#ts fanfic #intrulogical #prinxiety #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #pre moceit #prince charming #fic #swearing tw #creativitwins #feel free to ask to be on the taglist #sanders sides #kill writes

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kylecoopers · 5 years

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i’m also stealing this from @bastianlis and @westcfsalem bc quite frankly i’m aLWAYS down to plot and while i’ve tried my best to reach out to everyone, i’ve gotten a little swamped in messages and i think i’ve missed some people. so, in hopes of reaching out to new members and characters i may not have plotted a lot with, here are some plots i think could work for my babes.

key: plots that are in italics are uber wanted just bc i think it’d be good for growth or just fun to play out !!

kyle cooper. resident sad boi, will agree with you if you try to bully him. kinda over life. trans and proud and pan and proud! avid dog lover, will only accidentally sleep with your ex and feel terrible about it for the rest of his life. rooms with his hubby who’s not his hubby sonny in audax and sonny’s his front man in his own little drug scheme where he sells his adderall so they can afford weed n stuff. really sweet, just wants to make people happy and v v selfless tbh. will die 4 u but will sacrifice u for a dog at the same time. not to be trusted for this reason alone.definitely true good or lawful good like i have no idea which one. definitely uwus and owos unironically. kermit the frog is his fursona even tho he’s definitely not a furry, he just says he is so another furry feels comfortable and if ur reading this u know who u are. intro | secret | pinterest | spotify playlist

wanted connections: more antagonistic plots tbh. like give me enemies, give me physical fights, give me him sticking up for his friends since i know he won’t stick up for himself. ex friends that he’s lost along the way. give me more bad influences too who keep him out too late and let him make out with random people in parties during his transitional phase, give me the people he’s making out with. childhood friends are a must too, he grew up in new york and was in the suburbs for a little while but in the city for the other half. and honestly a LOT of people who are getting their supply of adderall from kyle and sonny bc like that’s their secret and there’s none bc we just recently decided it was gonna be an active thing they’re doing. and some more friend plots are always wanted but he lowkey needs his own little emotional support friends for when him and sonny are being useless gays and can’t just tell each other what is going on.

nicole woods. a hot motherfucking mess. will ghost you, collective heartbreaker and occasional other woman. honestly a coward, terrified of her own feelings so she’s always doing dumb shit. chaotic neutral. current roommates with the only person she is 100% selfless for and will kill 4 her or indira tbh. an effortlessly bitchy person, doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut and will tell you what she thinks if it doesn’t have to do with her feelings. proud wiw but will fuck guys, probs is the top regardless won’t lie, 5′3 and full of fury.

intro | secret | pinterest | spotify playlist

wanted connections: she’s notorious for ghosting people and collecting hearts so having more people she’s fucked over is kinda a need. maybe more enemies like, she has some but she’s probs not number one in terms of how liked she is in lockwood. give me more flings too; she’s biromantic so she’d go any way. maybe a partner in crime she does fuck shit with. she’s from baltimore so she might not have any childhood friends but maybe some friends she made over the internet that ended up going to the same school as her? her stepsiblings are still connections but i’m always down for cousins n such. also hookups n stuff idk if i said that but it’s always welcome.

maple wolfe. the love child of fleetwood mac and hozier’s music tbh. aloof and kinda loner-like, can be found usually drawing somewhere in a quiet place or doing assignments out in the open. probably painted a school mural with a few art friends. used to roommates with tati but now lives in potentas alone. true neutral, really just stays to themself. can be a little too cunning and observant, keeps mental notes on people and tries to figure out their weakness in case they need it. probably wanted to be a forest nymph growing up and when that didn’t happen they were like “well fuck it ig” and went into art. can be kinda short in terms of talking if they’re not comfortable with you but if you bring up the right topics they’ll ramble for hours with thought-provoking conversations and debates about simple things such as who’s the best artist from certain eras and why the only reason things seem bad is because we see everything nowadays. also probs lowkey the epitome of the raven poem by edgar allen poe.

intro | secret | pinterest | spotify playlist

wanted connections: honestly some flings would be cool and maybe some exes because they’re a cutie. some people they maybe grow close to, maybe people from virginia who they know if there’s even anyone here. and potentially a connection to their secret; someone who was related to the person involved or knows of it for that sweet angst or someone who’s father was the cop on duty that night. art friends who painted a mural with them in memory of tati or something. honestly i’m down for anything w/ them they’re just easy to work with.

jasper beaumont. grade a dumbass, amazing singer, probably has a soundcloud tbh and he wouldn’t be ashamed. doesn’t give a fuck about anything, has mommy and daddy issues, the guy you should bring home if you wanna piss your dad off. honestly loyal as fuck to his friends but once you cross him, you’re done. deals with his issues w/ his fists and is just a violence drive person but he won’t hit w/o warrant. coulda been a comedian, definitely had a vine account that got some sort of traction. will fuck anything that consents and has a pulse. fuck gender norms and will show up to events in whatever the fuck he wants. pronouns are he/him and they/them so pls use correctly. his secret is tba but !! be on the look out ;))

intro | secret (tba!) | pinterest | spotify playlist

wanted connections. hook ups, ride or dies, people he’s taken the blame for because baby boy does lowkey have a huge crime sheet. people he cheated on, people he cheated with, people he was the other man to, flings, exes, way more antagonistic plots, maybe some bromance bc i mean bros. maybe somebody he knows from l.a or people he knows from high school? he was around tati for that. a roommate too! he lives in fidelis

#water:ooc #SO ok nobody asked me to do this but it #it took me all all ALLLLL day to do #so i would appreciate it if u guys looked at it #and feel free to hmu w/ stuff if we have or haven't plotted like i don't mind

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