#but he’s resigned himself to violent attention being the only attention he’s going to get

[thebottomfromhell]

Hey it's me so I was thinking that how the upper-moon react when they're jealous- like some girl or guys just woke up to the reader and start to flirting with him right in front of the upper-moon

Nice to got you here, thank you for always re-bloging. I hope you like it and sorry for the wait.

Uppermooms getting jelous for gn reader. (I will use "them" for the person who started to flirt with reader.)

Warnings: Cannibalism, Death of unamed character, Self-harm (Gyutaro and his canonical violent scratching), Implied sexual content, Assault, Canon insecurity to ot's respective characters, Gyokko and Douma are their own warning, Torture.

Gyutaro:

He knows when someone is about to flirt, you know where he lives. He can tell when you are going to approached, so he leaves before that happens as he scratches his face. He seems downhearted when you find him after rejecting the other person, and he refuses to talk about it. The next day he bahaves as normal, but you still try to see what is wrong.

When you tried to talk to him, Gyutaro scratches himself, hard. It's enough to tear skin and make him bleed. "NeEeEe, just cut it out! Go with someone that is not as ugly and disgusting as me! Neee! You can have anyone so stop nagging me, ne..." It's inpossible to comfort him, Gyutaro is convinced that is just matter of time before someone else can take your attention from him. You try everything, but he doesn't believe that he can compete with whoever flirts with you.

Again, he easily acts as always later on when you drop the subject and he doesn't act upon it ever, but he is still jealous and bottling it up. He is resigned and doesn't see reason to do anything as long as you fon't bother him.

Gyokko:

Most of all, Gyokko is offended. How dare them to flirt with his darling in front of him? The disrespect! Second of all, he kills them. Easy as that, he doesn't ask questions or even react beyond that. Just a gasp, some few seconds to get even more offended and then he summons tentacles for them to torture that person.

After that, with the agonizing from behind as the tentacles squeeze, pull and twist limbs, breaking bones and ripping flesh, he just starts complaining to you, similar as if he had a bad experience at WalMart. "Can you believe it? They acted as if I wasn't even there! There is no respect anymore!"

Besides that, he understand that it's not your fault and doesn't take it out on you, but he is going to complain for hours straight. And heaven's forbid he remembers it later when talking with someone else, because he will spend hours complaining again. "Don't interrupt me, I'm not finished. As I was saying, it was insulting! How dare they?" And there is no way stopping it.

Sekido:

If Sekido is always angry, how could you explain how he's feeling now. Livid? Not enough. Furious? Not enough. There are no words to describe his rage, except one phrase. "You're jealous..." you say incredulous as he pants after having stabbed the person who was flirting with you with his staff.... plural. There are like 14 still electrified, five on the chest and stomach without fully going in to not pierce organs and the one he just killed him with, the head.

"Don't say that crap, they just made me angry!" He tries to explain himself, but... this is a lot for only "being angry" "Why did they have to flirt with you?" He mutters under his breath, he is still mand but doesn't want to take it out of you.... yet. He will if you become too annoying. You just let it be because after what you just saw you don't want to be beaten up by Sekido.

It passes after a while, and he even apologizes... for the wrong reasons... "Sorry for causing an scene. I was just so angry! I'll try to be more discreet next time." Still, you take it and shrug, there is nothing you can do anyway, he would not have stopped even if you asked.

Karaku:

Karaku is a chill dude, very relaxed. He can't get jealous, can he? "Oh, we are flirting with Y/N? Well, you had your turn already, my friend. Now is mine, so get lost." He is still chill as he throws himself over you, passing his arm over your shoulder and getting his face just inches from yours. He proceeds to flirt and rizz like the sex god he is, not caring if the other party is still there or not. "Babe, do ya like it when strangers flirt with ya~? Totally deserve it, ya know? Cuz you're so hot and cute one just wants ya~."

He really is chill about it, it's not fake or repressed. He is ok with others flirting with you, what he is not ok is others going around thinking they have a chance. "But they must know you are mine, ya know? Should we give them a show for them to realize it?" He kisses and licks your face.

"KARAKU!" You scream, face red because of how shameless he is as he grabs his own pants. Once he heard you Karaku starts laughing, only to start teasing you. "Sorry love, you're right. I'll leave some for the bedroom.~!"

Urogi:

"GET OFF MY Y/N!" Urogi attacks that person the second you make eye contact with him, taking it as a permission and an ask for help from your part. He is ok with people talking to you, but flirting? "Y/N IS MINE!" He takes them to the sky, grabbing them by his feet to them give a sonic scream once they are 200 feet high and drop them.

Then back down he stabs them with his claws. Once they are finally dead he brings the corpse to you (the eyes are missing, and you know he ate them. But he gor hungry, ok?) "Did I do good? Y/N, did I do good? I protected you, so I deserve a reward, right?" If he was a dog instead of a bird he would be wiggling his tail happy and proud, you can basically feel him shining. C'mon, how are you supposed to scold that?

"Yes, you did good. But don't do it again, ok?" He lunges over you to hug you joyfully. "Yay! Does this mean I can eat them? You don't mind?" Like a dog, he asks permission. And they are dead anyway, so there is nothing that should stop it. So you neither don't look at Urogi while being flirted or put a good poker face."Yummy!"

Aizetsu:

"I'm feeling sad." He tells you, tugging weakly your arm, pouting. "Y/N, I'm sad. Can I please have a hug? Please?" The person who was talking to you looks slight offended, not only for being interrupted, but the fact you switched all your attention to those sad eyes beghing for your attention. How were you supposed to not cuddle him?

Aizetsu smiles a little at them, who were flirting with you, just before burrying his face into you, arms wraped in a hug. He knows what he is doing. He gets needy whenever he gets jealous, but instead of having an outburst Aizetsu used his sad puppy eyes on you and makes sure that you only look at him besides showing the other party who is the one you answer to.

There are times he makes himself look so pitiful that you don't even notice that he isn't sadder than usual, he just wants you to stop talking with other people. "Thank you, I really needed. Sorry for being a bother." What a baby.

Nakime:

You didn't even know Nakime could get jealous. But now you just saw her opening a door in the floor to drop someone into her castle only because they told you some pick-up lines. You know you are not going to be seeing them again... ever. If she just send them away, killed them or just trapped them in her fortress, you have no idea.

If you bring it up with her, she plays dumb, even if there is no denying that it was her biwa, her castle, her demon blood art, her. "I don't recall doing so. Are you ok, though? They seemed like a bother." She will speak soflty and gently, smiling a bit to you. That is so scaru you don't push the issue.

At the end you both act as if nothing happened, but she will be doing it again without shame or guilt. She always knows, so forget having flirty people in your life.

Akaza:

Akaza has always been protective, not liking when others get near since he is forever paranoid something bad will happen if he isn't there. In other words, he is easy to make jealous. "Y/N IS NOT INTERESTED YOU PIECE OF-" he goes off to attack inmediately, and it just takes one uncomfortable look in your face for Akaza to kill them. But at least he kills them rather fast instead of torturing them.

"You didn't need to go that far." You try and get him to apologize easily. He was too fast for you to be able to do anything about it, but he would have stopped if you told him. "It's just that we are together. We are together and it makes me mad when others don't understand it ot let us be." He answers honestly. Akaza still understands that you can't control other people's actions so he would never take it out on you.

On contrary, he is the one to comfort and spoil you after it to apologize his outburst. He is usually very relaxed with you, so it was a bit scary, still he won't be doing it again unless (he will only attack if you are being hurted).

Douma:

Douma is bad at feelings, bad with his own feelings, that you already knew. But he does understand the desire of others respecting distance or possesions (not that he ever cared), he would not like others taking his fans or his food away, for example. It's a similar sensation when they try to convince you to go un a date, even after you already said no several times. "Understand already that I don't want anything with you!"

Douma doesn't act, at all. He doesn't even know what of all of the situation he is against. If he dislikes anything that person, if he dislikes your actions or their actions, if he dislikes how tired you look, or if he dislikes how repetitive it is the scene, he doesn't know, so he can't act upon it right away. He just knows he doesn't like it.

That doesn't stop him from killing that person, who was still part of his cult, and eating him greedily. He still doesn't understand it, but it's definetely better. It could be that his stomach is full, it could be that they are gone, it could be that he just did something good and let them have an eternal life inside him. "Y/N, if something like this happens ever again, please tell me. I will deal with it."

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou is petty, but really petty about it. When he sees you being flirted by someone else he just... stares. And stares from afar, blank face yet you can see in his eyes both the yearning and resentment... x3. Then the second you look at him he looks any other way, and if you try to make a step towards him Kokushibou will basically run away. And then starts to avoid you. CAN HE GET ANY MORE PETTY?! He can, actually. He is yet to start making poetry about heartbreak, the one you catched him doing when you were fibally able to get close and talk to him after two weeks.

"Why do you let them speak to you like that? It's inappropriate." Well, it's not like you can do anything but reject their advances, like you did. But number one here is very insecure, so the fact that others flirt with you scare him and he dislikes that. "Kokushibou, please. You know I love you, and only you." But as a good lover you start to list why you like him and think he is better than everyone else. He becomes shy and runs away again.

But at least, once he gets over the outburst of his insecurity, is over is easy to reasure. Besides, apart from being a bit rude and shy, he doesn't hurt anyone.

#top reader #demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #gyutaro #sekido #kokushibou #akaza #douma #gyokko #nakime #kny headcanons

[anpanman95]

God DO I have things to say about this one here…

CONTROVERSIAL REVIEW AHEAD

Last Twilight: why Day’s character is a major RED FLAG 🚩🚩🚩

DISCLAIMER: I do not have anything against him as an actor. He’s a beautiful sweet talented cutie pie that is doing such an amazing job it causes me to hate the motherfluffing guts of this character.

To make this easier I’ve broken down this to five points.

Day’s personality sucks: first of all, he is a rich, spoiled child (I hope all of us agree on this one) who’s clearly full of himself, and only cares about himself. This is demonstrated in several ways, but the most blatant one is in how he believes that his tragedy is the worst possible scenario anyone could be in, and fails to have a single ounce of empathy for anyone around him unless, of course, it has to do something with him. Yes. What happened to him was horrific, and traumatizing, but he is not the only human being in the world who has problems. Which brings me to my next point.

Having a disability does not give you the right to be an asshole. “Oh but every person deals with their own stuff differently” Honey, no. The whole point is that having a disability does not make you any less than any other human being. Question: Doesn’t Day want for people to stop feeling pity for him? to not treat him differently?. Well guess what darling: that implies you also still have to be and function like a decent person. Yes, again, I’m very sorry about what he has to go through, which is a horrible and unexpected experience, and I could never imagine what that’s like, but literally no one in his life wished this upon him. He acts as if everyone around him is to be blamed for what happened.

Spoiled part 2: He has a roof over his head. A fancy one might I add. He lives comfortably. He has healthy, unlimited food, done by a professional chef, might I add AGAIN, and he does not appreciate his family and what they do for him, not even once. Does he not understand that his life could be much, much worse? I’m not saying he can’t be angry or depressed or deal with his trauma however he needs to be able to heal, but there’s a difference that he doesn’t seem to understand: being angry at a situation that is out of anyone’s control, and being angry or directing that anger to people who just want to help. Which brings me to my last two points:

Day’s crappy behavior towards his family: Lets start with the mother. She is, of course somewhat at fault for what Day has to go through. But only because she is being unreasonably overprotective, something that could have been solved anyway without Day being an absolute prick about it. (Also pick one of your children to give all your love and attention to and abandon the other? what is wrong with you). Now to his brother Night. Oh God. I don’t think you understand how angry I was when Day said “I forgive you for everything”. Bitch what the f? Forgive Night? for treating him like absolute garbage, as if he had never been your own brother? Like he planned the whole fiasco? He gets mad after the accident because his brother TRIES TO CHANGE for the BETTER. And accuses him from TRYING TO STEAL THE GOOD SON TITLE FROM HIM??! Be for real bitch. This circles back to point one: He only cares about himself. Night has been traumatized almost as much as Day because of the accident. It is obvious he blames himself and probably will never forgive himself fully for what happened. On top of that he gets an awful mother and brother? Nah. Count me out. I would have resigned from that family and go live with beautiful sweet Porjai to a small village and never be contacted by those people again.

Mhok: Oh dear. Oh dear. He is literally the greenest of green flags out there. Sure. He’s a little volatile. Sure, he has done violent things. But he would have NEVER hurt Day or any of their friends/family. My boy was just trying to do his job, cause, mind you, HE HAS NO MONEY OR FAMILY TO SUPPORT HIM LIKE YOU DO, DAY. The money and family you disrespect every single day. And what the f with telling him what to do with his life? Who the f do you think you are? Mr. Righteous? Mr. Perfect? More like Mr. Red Flag 101. Day basically broke Mhok’s heart because Mhok didn’t want to be away from him. So, first of all, I don’t believe for a second Mhok’s intentions were out of pity. Maybe they came from a place of WORRY and a little bit out of infatuation because he liked him so much and didn’t want to be away from him. But never pity. EVEN SO. IF Mhok felt “pity” for Day, the correct thing to do, as two fluffing functioning adults, is to TALK. Why did you have to go and tell him all this horrible things just so he’d leave? Why not tell him you’re proud of him, and ENCOURAGE HIM to take the job, ENSURE that it’ll work out between you? But nooooo, Mr. Red Flag had to go and break his heart cause he lacks basic decency and human empathy, only for Mhok, bless his heart, to come back after three years AND FOR SOME REASON, still manage to be in love with this awful person. And he tells him no? Break his heart all over again only for Mhok to have enough emotional intelligence for the both of them to actually come back after YOU GAVE UP ON SEARCHING FOR HIM AT THE AIRPORT LIKE A WEAK MEDIOCRE BI— ugh. If I were Mhok I’d gone and kicked his sorry ass and married a handsome Hawaiian.

Okay.

Also Day only coming to his senses after his mother tells him THE MOST OBVIOUS THING THERE IS.

“Oh Mother what was that? Loving means taking risks? It’s all about trust? and communication? Oh my, that would have never crossed my mind because I am such an idiot. Thank you mom I’ll go look for the love of my life now because you told me so”

like seriously what is up with these boys and their mommy issues? I swear the exact same thing happened in Hidden Agenda. Bro.

I love P’Aof, and his work. Loved Bad Buddy, loved Moonlight Chicken. I had super high expectations of this and, overall, the show is good. But I simply did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would, and it’s all because I couldn’t sympathize with one of the main characters.

In conclusion:

Fluff you Day, you do not deserve Mhok. sorry p’Aof I love you and will continue to support you until the very end.

oof. I needed to rant this out. don’t yell at me please I cry easily.

peace out!

#last twlight the series #bl series #thai bl series #thaibl #thailand #thai bl #thai bl drama #thai drama #thai series #mhokday #mhok x day #mhok last twilight #im very sorry about this but It needed to be said #metapost #meta post #my meta #my writing #last twilight

[onboardsorasora]

Enchanted Au: Part 31

mob wife Daniel tried to derail meeeee but I'm still here!

Part 1 | Last Chapter

Part 31

Max leaned against the patio door, staring sadly at Daniel who sat on the daybed. He was mindlessly stroking Sassy, who hadn’t left him alone for a second. It had been a few days since…that morning. Since Daniel cursed himself, they’d all managed to figure out a system of sorts.

Daniel had complained of feeling empty, silent. So the only solution was to get him a pair of headphones. He wore it everywhere, and what he listened to varied from simple brown staticky noise, to podcasts and music. He was used to having a brain full of sounds– voices, and it was very jarring to be without all of a sudden.

Michelle had suggested that they go as normally as possible, do what they would do daily. So Max texted the boys who confirmed they were all back in town and set up a day. He warned them to be careful around Daniel, that he was ‘sick’. And they promised to not be assholes. That was to be determined.

Max stepped out onto the patio, this got Sassy’s attention who in turn got Daniel’s attention. Listless brown eyes looked up questioningly. They haven’t spoken yet, not really. Daniel hadn’t truly allowed them the time. Too afraid to be left alone with Max again– not after last time. Not after being so distraught he did this to himself. 

Daniel was also embarrassed that he managed to do this. Who curses themself? Who knew that magic was strongest when the caster felt heightened emotions? He for sure hadn’t. And now that he was back at a fairly baseline level of feeling (under baseline if he were being honest with himself) he didn’t have enough of anything to reverse it. Not a drop of magic in his blood. 

So he avoided Max as best he could, because he really couldn’t manage Max seeing him like this. So boring and useless. Dull and no longer bright. Because who was Daniel if he wasn’t magical? No one.

Daniel pulled the headphones off of his ears and Max could hear the heavy, steady tone of the brown noise sound he used the most. 

“Do you want to go for a drive? The guys are back and are thinking of going karting.” Max offered. 

Daniel bit his lip, that did sound fun. But that also involved people– people who knew what he was supposed to be. He thought there were worse things he’d rather sit through thankyouverymuch.

“No, I’m ok. Thank you.” He shook his head, looking away when Max frowned sadly. He couldn’t bear it. Sassy chirped and Daniel yanked the headphones over his ears again almost violently. 

Max sighed and walked back into the living room. He took out his phone to maybe cancel their plans when Michelle put a hand on his.

“We’ll get him to go. You go get ready.” She smiled a quick upturn of her lips before walking out onto the patio. Max nodded and went to his room, snorting when he heard Daniel’s indignant cry of Chelle!

The car ride was quiet. Max chose to drive the Ferrari, thinking it would at least cheer Daniel up a bit. He’d made a small happy gesture when he got in, but had been staring out the window since.

“Daniel.” Max whispered, almost desperately. “Please talk to me.” 

Daniel wasn’t wearing his headphones, Grace forbade it, so he heard the small crack in Max’s voice and flinched. 

“I– what’s there to say?” Daniel asked helplessly. He fiddled with his fingers.

“Anything. I would listen to you say anything right now. Just… please don’t shut me out.” Max knew he was pleading, but he didn’t quite care.

“I’m sorry– about all of this.” Daniel said after a while.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I messed up–”

“No actually.” Max cut him off. He glanced over quickly at a stop light to see Daniel still staring at his own fingers. Max rested his hand on Daniel, causing him to look up quickly– then away. “I’m sorry.” Max said.

“What?”

“This is my fault.” 

Daniel went rigid before sinking into the chair bonelessly. Resigned. He nodded.

“Right.. It’s ok that you like don’t feel the same way. My reaction was a bit overdramatic I guess.” Daniel chuckled humorlessly to himself. Max felt like rolling his eyes, instead he squeezed Daniel’s hands.

“No. You are not listening.” Max barely stopped himself from sighing. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when they were going to have this conversation, when he was finally going to be able to say it to Daniel. He could think of a thousand other ways and times.

The dash lit up with a phone call from Charles and Max wanted to groan. He glared at the contact before pressing the deny call button. Perhaps a bit too maliciously. He didn’t want any more interruptions. God only knew when he’d have another moment alone with Daniel. Without him running away.

“Daniel, I love you. Of course, this wasn’t exactly how I wanted to say that but it doesn’t change the fact that I do.”

Daniel inhaled sharply and looked over at Max who was looking at the road and trying to glance at him at the same time. Daniel knew his eyes were wide.

“You don–”

“I do. I love you. And I was trying to tell you that how you found out was a mistake. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out to your sister and have you overhear it. But your sister is scary, I think. She does that thing with her eyes.”

“Yeah… she can be like that. The eye thing isn’t even her powers, she just…does that.” Daniel mumbled, his brain felt scrambled.

“I should have I think, been more clear. Of course you are misunderstanding me if I am not speaking clearly y’know. You can’t read minds I don’t think– wait, can you?”

Daniel shook his head. 

“Okay. So yeah– I should have been more clear. And I wasn’t and I’m sorry I hurt you with my carelessness. I’m sorry you felt you had to do this to yourself.”

Max pulled into the parking lot to see that it was empty, no one else had arrived as yet. He put the car in park and turned to look at Daniel who was looking at him stricken, with tears in his wide eyes.

“Max…”

Max grabbed Daniel’s hands and rubbed his thumb along the unmoving rose. “You mean so much to me Daniel.” 

Daniel untangled himself from his seatbelt and threw his arms around Max’s shoulders. He pressed his face into Max’s neck. Max loved him, he truly did? His body felt like it was vibrating with energy. His chest felt too big. He could cry. He was crying. He mouthed against Max’s neck, singing a wish, clenching his eyes shut. Maybe this emotion was enough to wish himself back.

There was a knock on the window and Daniel looked up to see Lando trying to peer through the dark tint of the car. He looked behind him to see Charles trying to do the same on his side. A giggle bubbled up and out of his mouth.

“They are such idiots.” Max mumbled, stroking along Daniel’s back.

“Yeah, but they’re our idiots.”

Max huffed a laugh and agreed. He pulled back and searched Daniel’s eyes before smiling a small smile. “I told them you were feeling sick.” Max shrugged and Daniel nodded. 

Daniel pulled him in for another tight hug, even while the boys’ knocking got incessant and annoying. “I love you too.” Daniel mumbled into Max’s neck before pretty much bolting out of the car. Max watched him tangle Charles in a hug with a slack expression before his soft smile returned. He got out of the car and rolled his eyes as Lando and Charles bickered about something, Daniel squished happily between them. Alex was standing off to the side, he raised a brow and Max shook his head with a smile.

Next Chapter

#wow #we're actually coming to the end of this arc #max/daniel #maxiel #enchanted au #disney princess dan

[sapphire-weapon]

Leon getting into a relationship with Ashley would be one of the greatest things in the world to ever happen to him if he took up her offer.

She is the ray of sunlight that cuts through his dark nights, she's salvation for a damned man, and someone who is careful and attentive to his sensitive heart.

I honestly feel that Ashley is the only one who could give him the clearest cut path to getting back to himself. To where he can leave himself unarmed and drop his defenses, and be okay with that again.

Capcom has a golden opportunity to make this happen if they make good on Ashley's interest in becoming an agent, herself, wanting to be Leon's partner.

Imagine how bright a future Leon would have if he allowed himself to be happy with someone who's all in it for him.

I agree with you 100% until the agent part.

I don't think Ashley will become an agent, and I don't think she should, either. Even ignoring the inherent tragedy that exists when a non-violent person turns to violence, if she heads down that road, at some point, the truth about Leon is going to come out -- and once she finds out that he's doing this all against his will, she won't want anything to do with it.

If anything, I see her being stricken by Sherry's story and the tragedy of the found family that never was, and I see Ashley turning to civil service, instead. It might be too late to reunite Sherry and Leon in a meaningful way, but she can work towards making sure that situation never happens again.

But I also don't think that she was serious about wanting to become an agent in the first place. I think she was just spitballing ideas for ways that she and Leon can continue a relationship once this mission is over. And when he's less than enthused with -- and even kind of bothered by -- her suggestion, she lets it drop immediately without a fight with a "you're no fun."

What I do actually think could happen is that, at some point in the probably near future after President Graham resigns, Ashley reaches out to Leon in an attempt to join the fight against bioterrorism -- and he'd probably set her up to meet with Claire. Even though Claire and Leon are traveling down different paths in this fight, and sometimes their objectives clash with one another (see: the ending of Infinite Darkness), he recognizes the work that she's doing as being vital -- and, most importantly, it's non-violent work (though, Claire, being a Redfield, puts herself in dangerous situations anyway but that's beside the point lmao).

Of course, this is all just theoretical "what-ifs" assuming that the remakes are a completely new timeline and will do something different from the storyline of OG canon -- which, they won't, because they're just remakes and not a separate series, and Capcom is still building onto the OG story. We know, of course, that Ashley just falls away from the story and out of Leon's life, and that's the end of it. And it'd be weird to bring her back into the story out of nowhere after being completely absent from it for 11 years canonically (Death Island takes places in 2015). She's not Rebecca Chambers or Barry Burton; she's not a main character that they'd be willing to bring back suddenly after a long absence. (We'll see Billy Coen show up again before Ashley Graham makes another appearance.) So we'll very likely never see her again, and none of this matters anyway. But it's still fun to think about.

I do think that you can make a case for a direct correlation between Ashley disappearing from Leon's life and his gradual descent into a bottle of Jack Daniels, though. Everyone in the RE universe is so wrapped up in their own bullshit that they don't take the time to check in with each other the way they probably should. The only two people who stay close to each other and take care of one another are Chris and Jill, and that's because of the partnership they'd already had before everything went to shit.

But let's take a look at Leon's "partners" throughout the years: Ada, Hunnigan, Luis, Krauser, Ashley, and Helena. Luis and Krauser are self-explanatory lmao you can't be in someone's life if you're dead (and also fucking insane, in Krauser's case). Helena and Leon work in two separate branches of federal law enforcement, so their partnership is over after RE6 ends. Leon and Hunnigan seem to have a relationship that's so professional that I'd be willing to bet they've only met in person a handful of times. Ada is... Ada. That's a whole fuckin can of worms we won't go into as much as I'd like to go off on a rant about how Damnation confirming that he fucked her at some point prior to that movie is the most egregious act of self-harm he ever engaged in and absolutely sped up his downward spiral into full-blown alcoholism.

And then there's Ashley. The only person on this list who could have theoretically stayed in Leon's life after their ordeal together, because there really is nothing tangible actually keeping them apart, but... doesn't. And there is absolutely nothing in her character that indicates that she was the one who pulled away from him. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that she fought like hell to try to stay in his life. But he pushed her away. And, because it's Leon, he probably didn't do it maliciously; it was probably done out of a sense of professionalism paired with an unconscious self-destructive reaction tendency born from a lifetime of trauma.

But, even in OG? Leon's interactions with Ashley are the most "normal" he seems to feel and act after RE2. After RE4, he's never that warm, playful, or expressive again. Leon becomes more and more emotionally closed off until, eventually, Chris Redfield is screaming at his drunk ass in an empty bar in the middle of the day because he's too hammered to properly follow a conversation, and the only emotions he ever shows outwardly anymore are frustration and sorrow.

Ashley was an anchor to reality for him. She was arguably the first and only one since Sherry to make him feel like he was actually a person and not just a sophisticated weapon in the US's arsenal to be pulled out and used when necessary until broken.

And that probably scared the shit out of him. For multiple reasons. So he pushed her away, and that was the end of that. (It was an unfortunate side effect from the dramatic change he underwent between RE2 and RE4.)

But imagine a version of events where he didn't do that -- where he was brave enough to be vulnerable enough to actually keep her in his life. Do you really think he still would've developed a drinking habit that eventually turned into a full-blown problem? Because I don't. Sometimes, all it takes is just that one person -- that one person who loves you, that one person who inspires you to keep going. And Ashley believed in him more than anyone. He would've kept his head above water for her sake, and he'd have been better off for it.

I honestly believe, especially after RE4make, that Ashley was/could've been the love of Leon's life, but he was just too fucking scared and up his own asshole in his misery to even think to give it a chance. She brings out the best in him in ways that literally no one else does in the entire rest of the series. And they have a relationship unlike any other that Leon has with anyone else -- it's one that was built on a foundation of explicit trust and only grew from there.

Leon and Ashley trust each other on the same level that Chris and Jill do. Maybe even more. They had to, in order to make it out of Spain that unnamed European country alive. And, at no point ever, is that trust ever tarnished, damaged, or betrayed. To even just call them "partners" feels like an understatement. In remake, by the end of the game, they're two parts of the same machine working in tandem towards the same goal.

He would've kept lifting her up, and she would've kept him honest if they'd stayed in contact after RE4. And, having her to come home to, he would've been able to breathe a little easier between missions. The weight wouldn't feel as crushing. She'd be a constant reminder that he wasn't a complete failure, and that there are still things in this world worth fighting for. There was a potential for happiness there that he threw away, because he simply couldn't see it at the time.

Because, here's the thing. By the time of Vendetta, Leon has become so beaten down and mired in his own failures that he's started to believe that his only legacy is death. But that's not true. Ashley is his legacy. Everything she does, and everything she is, and every act that she performs to make the world a better place (and you gotta believe she's actively doing her part), is only possible because of him. And he loses sight of that, the same way he lost sight of it with Sherry (do nOT GET ME STARTED ON HIM FUCKING ADMITTING HE HADN'T TALKED TO HER IN AT LEAST 3 YEARS BY THE START OF RE6 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME LEON).

And, don't get me wrong. I get why he did it. I understand why he wanted to pull away from Ashley, especially right after returning home -- but to not go back to her -- to purposefully make the conscious decision to keep her out of his life? Is to also purposefully leave the "What're you, my mother?"/"I knew you'd be fine if you landed on your butt" part of him behind.

I've long since said that Leon never actually truly escaped Raccoon City -- that some part of him did bleed to death in the sewers after being shot and was left there forever. And I think that's true for his relationship with Ashley, too. Cutting her out of his life also forced him to cut a piece of himself off in order to create that break, and she's still carrying it with her.

And if he'd just pick up the phone and fucking call her, she might bring that little piece of him back with her. And maybe, for the first time in a long time, he'd remember how to take a moment and breathe and laugh at some dumb bullshit, and it'd allow him to see a world and a life outside of the constant horror show of bioterrorism. Maybe he'd remember what it was like to actually feel sexy, and maybe he'd start to feel like a person again. And maybe -- just maybe -- he'd finally see that "home" isn't the country that he slavishly (literally) serves to thanklessly protect -- but that it's a person, and her name is Ashley Graham.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THESE TWO #REMAKE DID THE ABSOLUTE MOST #THE REMAKE IS EVERYTHING #dear god leon would be such a Boyfriend if these two ever got together #i used to joke that leon would be the shittiest boyfriend on the planet #and for the most part i still think that's true #but if it was ashley? #completely different ballgame #motherfucker sends flowers to her office on her birthday #don't tell me he doesn't #oh wait i also forgot the #meta analysis #tag

[vacantgodling]

::::::::::::::::: CAGE ::::::::::::::::::

read the full fic on ao3!

CHAPTER 5. UNRAVELING

Hanzo did not buy them breakfast. 

No one had the heart to bring it up. 

The ORCA was as silent as a grave. It felt too awkward to try and make light of anything, not that Cassidy was trying to; no, he took Angela’s advice and shut his damn mouth. Lena seemed the most distressed by this dour turn in mood, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to inspire in any of them to some semblance of cheer. She resigned herself to the cockpit and the doors to the pilot’s chamber slid shut with a kind of somber finality that only bittersweet cowboy songs could bring. It only took a minute or two, then they were lifting off. The only noise that broke through the quiet was the gentle purr of the engines as Lena adjusted speeds, or the occasional whistle of the wind against the windows as they changed direction.

In the old days they’d all rowdy up into one of the conference rooms for a mission debriefing, especially after one wrought with mishaps, however minor, like this one. However, when they touched down at the Watchpoint and stepped into the hangar, there was no talk of any sort of convene. He wasn’t sure if this was by choice—Angela certainly didn’t look to have the sanity to deal with being around Hanzo for any longer—or if this was because Winston didn’t have the foresight to throw something together. Lena quickly went her own way looking for more cheerful company in any of the sparse agents meandering on base. Reinhardt patted him on the back, gentler than normal Cassidy might add, then nodded at Hanzo before he too lumbered off down the main hall in a different direction than Lena. 

Genji took rigid steps towards Winston’s lab, Angela on his heels, trying to whisper something to him that Genji wasn’t paying attention to. Before they rounded the corner, Cassidy saw her try and reach out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged away violently, in a fit of barely contained anger.

It left him and Hanzo standing in the door of the hangar. Alone. 

“You seem to have a talent for talking out of your ass.” Somehow, Cassidy wasn’t surprised that Hanzo said something first. He scowled. “Says the ass.” Hanzo did that weird breathy thing with his throat that Cassidy supposed was a laugh, then shook his head, ribbon swishing. When he too strode away, Cassidy was left with himself and his swirling thoughts. 

That was never good. 

“Damn, I need a drink.”

##

Cassidy remembers Reyes whispering in his ear “Sleep is for the weak” on their particularly brutal stake outs that stretched a little beyond 96 hours. He’d pass one of those god-forsaken energy pills he got from god knows where into his hand, and because Cassidy trusted him, he’d throw the damn things back dry without question. 

After spending a good deal of time on the road, never truly sleeping—be it the threat of bandits and bounty hunters, or the recurring dreams that kept his eyes peeled open before the crack of dawn—Cassidy had come to the outstanding conclusion that sleep wasn’t for the weak it was for the lucky and he sure as hell wasn’t one of them. 

He’d tossed, turned, then tossed again, his feet kicking at nothing. He threw his blanket off some hour before now, and he was too frustrated to reach down and pull the threadbare slip over himself again from its heap on the floor. Sweat began to seep from his pores, congregating between the rolls of middle aged pudge he didn’t feel like working off. All the while, he couldn’t get Hanzo’s death stare out of his mind. It was too similar to one he’d been trying to forget for ages. 

“I’m going to work you to the bone, cabrón.” Reyes stood over him with his arms crossed. This was probably the fifth time he’d ended up on his ass today and it was only ten-fucking-thirty. 

“Fuck you.” He’d spat, wiping the sweat from his brow. If Reyes’s face wasn’t obscured by the beaming sun behind him, he would’ve seen him crack a tiny smile. 

“Get the hell up.”

##

It wasn’t often his brain startled him with a memory so vivid it made him bolt upright in bed, adrenaline pumping like molten iron through his veins, halfway lashing out at the open air. It took him a solid minute to realize there was nothing there, and instead of at that stake out, or in that training room, he was still cooped up in his tiny room on Gibraltar. 

The mind was funny that way. Cassidy heaved a sigh so heavy and creaky that his door was jealous. No matter if it was a memory like this or one of the worse one his brains had in its arsenal—no memory of Reyes was a good one. 

Cassidy scratched the underside of his bearded chin and his eyes flitted to the nightstand. He squinted at the numbers, then groaned. 

3:04AM.

It was too early to be functional. He knew that. But he also knew that his brain wasn’t going to let him fall back into the deep, satisfying lull of sleep anytime soon. So he got up. He’d make the bed later. The door creaked behind him, like a warning, before softly drawing shut.

The pitch darkness that swallowed the hallowed halls of the Watchpoint weren’t doing anything for his eyes and he wasn’t keen on using Deadeye just to walk around at night. Winston didn’t bother installing lights in certain parts of the facility, since they weren’t being funded by the U.N anymore, they had to save electricity where they could and prioritize vital functions. Those included: Athena, the training facility, and Angela’s tiny medical lab. Not dubious hallways or common areas; if not by a window, everything else was powered by batteries, gas, and a prayer. None of them were rolling in credits either, so they had to make do with what meager supplies that they had, and it got old to gripe about it after awhile so no one bothered anymore. No one said hero work was peachy-keen and without obstacles—no one ever talks about funding when teaching children about the joys of heroism. Reality was much crueler. The sentiment couldn’t ring any truer than while on his peruse, he tripped, colliding face first with the nearest wall, smashing his nose so hard he could see the spots dance in his vision.

“Sonuvabitch!” Damn that stung, what the hell did he even trip on? It was hard to make out anything in the dark and cursing again he shoved his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, searching for his lighter. He fumbled with it for a second or two, but after a few tries (and a lot of cursing), the tiny flame bloomed to life and illuminated the area around him. His eyes took a second to adjust to his surroundings. The object in question looked like nothing but a large black mass from his vantage point, and resigning himself to stooping, he bent and waved the lighter closer. He catalogued a buckle, zippers, and a golden scarf wound tightly around the handle. Grumbling, Cassidy righted himself. It seemed that damn Shimada had made it a bonafide mission to inconvenience him, even when he wasn’t around. He glanced around the empty hall. He wasn’t imagining that Hanzo would be around a corner, or more likely, up in the rafters, snickering at his expense—that seemed childish. But… it did seem odd that his belongings were in the middle of the floor like this. 

Cassidy spun back towards the wall he ran into, noticing for the first time that he was standing just outside of the training facility from his nightmare. Fate must hate him tonight. Even better then, that their meager electric supply was currently being put to use. At this hour? Usually he was the only one in the training room late at night when the dreams plagued him and he felt restless with energy that a smoke or a drink couldn’t fix. He moved closer to the door. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear a subtle but still consistent thwack, thwack, thwack of something hitting some of the makeshift targets. The image of Hanzo standing in the open oak doors of Eichenwalde Castle with a bow in hand, deep scowl turning his lips down breezed through his mind and was gone the moment he focused on it. Despite the thought, or perhaps because of it, Cassidy peeked through the tiny window of the door and caught a sight of broad shoulders and dark hair, let loose from its usual uptight ponytail, heading towards the targets. The figure disappeared out of his line of vision quickly, for the tiny window could only show Cassidy so much. It was almost…. almost perplexing. Yet his mouth was moving before he could decide if he truly cared to know. “Athena.” 

“Yes?” The AI chimed from overhead. “How long’s tha training room gonna be occupied?” 

“There are 2 hours remaining of Agent Hanzo’s scheduled time.” Cassidy let out a low whistle at that, scratching his beard. “That long?” 

“Though it does not seem like you are prepared for training at this hour, Agent Cassidy. You do not have Peacekeeper with you.” Athena’s observation was mild, but Cassidy took the hint, clear as day. “Is there a reason you wished to know?”

“Jus’ wonderin’.” He didn’t feel like having to explain himself to her, so he spun on his heel, tripped on the damn case again, grumbling all the while, then changed course and made his way to the kitchen.

When his thoughts were jumbled and he didn’t know what else to do, it was usually nothing that a good cup of Joe or hot cocoa couldn’t do for the soul. The Gibraltar informal kitchen was a tiny thing for such a large base; a chef grade commercial fridge stood to the far left side, covered in magnets and pictures Winston put up of the old team, important Overwatch events, and the restock list on a little magnetic white board. The counters were sleek, a bit dingy, but serviceable and the cabinets carried the same grey hue of the fridge with permanently cold metal handles with only a few spots of rust. If a few cabinets had missing handles or didn’t open all the way, well, no one mentioned it. A tiny pantry for the dry goods was tucked away and hidden in a back wall. 

There was usually maybe one or two people in the kitchen at any given time, so it was as good of a place as any to pop a squat for a few hours and drown his nightmares in warmth and quiet. Usually at this hour he’d be alone anyway, and that was what he was counting on when he entered the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to stretch and pop his back.

“You sound quite ancient, Agent Cassidy.” A metallic voice that wasn’t Athena commented, and Cassidy nearly jumped out of his skin. Seated on top of the counter, kicking his metal feet with the same resemblance of a bored child was Genji, waiting on what was probably jasmine tea (his favorite, if Cassidy recalled correctly) to finish steeping. 

“Damn Shimadas.” Cassidy spat, but he chuckled right after, and Genji didn’t seem to take any offense to it, laughing softly along with him. “Too damn quiet.”

“You should be more on your guard.” Cassidy shook his head, ambling over to the cabinets to see if they had coffee or cocoa. Scanning the shelves, it looked like they had neither, however, he was distracted from his disappointment by Genji clearing his throat. 

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” Cassidy asked. With nothing else to occupy himself with, as he left both holopad and laptop in his room and he would be assed to stumble through the dark halls to get them and come back, he shuffled to the table, dropping heavily into the chair. Leaving his tea on the counter for now, Genji hopped down and followed after him, sitting in the chair across from him. Instead of kicking them once he was settled, Genji’s legs, now connected with the floor, bounced. 

There was silence for all of a beat. Then Genji spoke.

“This is not the Overwatch I once knew.” He ran a hand over his face, and even if Cassidy couldn’t see the tired expression on his face, he could see it in the way Genji hunched himself over the table. 

“Hard ta be.” Cassidy replied, sympathetically. “We’re sparse. A lot less noise around here than there used ta be, though I’m not sure this old man is complaining.” The joke was light, but Genji didn’t take the bait, and a lump of lead dropped into Cassidy’s stomach when he shook his head slowly. Seems this was more serious. Cassidy let the moment hang, wetting his lips thoughtfully. Then, he bit. “How’d ya mean, then?”

“It is hard to explain.” Restlessness was eating at Genji’s wires, he knew it. He’d only just sat, but there he went, quickly walking back to the counter to bring his tea back to the table, as though he’d just noticed it as an afterthought. He stared down at the drink once he sat again, cupping his hand around it gently, drumming his metal fingers on the cheap ceramic.

“The Overwatch I grew to know and cherish took in those from all walks of life.”

“For better or worse.” Cassidy couldn’t help but say, and Genji looked up at him, briefly, before his face tilted elsewhere. “You were a gang member. I was the son of a yakuza lord. We both have blood on our hands that cannot be washed clean, yet we were welcomed into Overwatch with open arms.”

“Well, if ya wanna look at it like that. As I recall, neither of us had much of choice ‘bout joinin’ here.” The hand Genji had gripped on his tea shifted upwards, then pressed into two latches on the side of his face plate. There was a hiss, then steam, and a few small clicks in succession as the rest of the mask loosened from his face, then slowly, carefully he pulled the face plate off.

Genji said he wore it for practicality; he claimed that he was no longer as self conscious about his marred features as he used to be. Despite them, he was still a handsome man. Cassidy wondered which of their parent’s Genji’s softer features came from. His brows were arched, like Hanzo’s, but seemed more playful than commanding. He had the same prominent bridge to his nose, like Hanzo’s, but his nose sloped more evenly like a playful, rolling hill instead of the sharp jut of a mountain cliff. His eyes, even, were softer and wider than Hanzo’s, more willing to seek the good in others than to unanimously discard it. Perhaps Genji looked more like Hanzo when they worked together back in Blackwatch; more tense, more angry. Some niggling part of his brain mused, that maybe if he loosened up, Hanzo would look more like Genji. 

“But do you regret it?” Genji’s question was more poignant with his warm brown gaze to stare down instead of the impasse, sleek steel he was used to. Cassidy fished in the opposite pocket of his sweatpants, pulling out the cigarillo he originally was planning to relax with resigning himself to a stress induced smoke instead. “Ya mind?” He rumbled.

“Never.” Genji brought the cup to his lips, tentatively taking a sip. “I do not have much of a sense of smell, you know.”

“Ne’er understood how they could get yer taste buds to work and not yer nose. Ain’t the two connected?”

“My sense of taste is dulled, if that is what you are asking.” Genji laughed softly, maybe even bitterly. “I miss the strong taste of liquor. Though perhaps my liver is grateful for the change.” 

“Don’t worry, I drink enough for tha both o’ us.” He smiled when Genji’s laugh sounded a little more full. He quickly sobered from the joy however, and Cassidy found a frown pulling back over his face.

“To answer yer previous question, naw, I can’t say I regret it too much. I have some regrets,” His mind thought back to Reyes, and he pushed the insistent thought away. “But I can’t say decidin’ ta stick ‘round here was one o’ them.” 

“Then you will understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

“There is not one of us who is here who has not done things that we felt were necessary at the time that we did them— even if those things were less than savory.” Genji drummed his fingers against the cup again. His eyes were almost glassy, unfocused, lost in thought. He hummed. “Is that why ya forgave him?” Cassidy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Genji with a somewhat unimpressed look that made Genji’s brows knit together. “My refusal to obey the elders was a threat. I only had 2 options.”

“Those bein’?”

“Get in line or be killed.” Seeing his expression, Genji let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I am not sure how your gang worked, but my clan was very serious about loyalty.”

“So if you didn’t want ta be involved…”

“I would have had to make myself disappear. Quickly. Quietly. At the age I am now, and with the insight that I have, perhaps I would have made different choices. But when I was young, I did not want to change who I was, regardless of the consequences.” 

“Ya shouldn’t have had to!” Cassidy couldn’t contain it any longer, and the outburst was perhaps far too loud in the dead of night, in the quiet kitchen. However, hearing all of this made Cassidy’s blood boil. Genji was a teenager, barely a young adult. He should have been allowed to be whoever he damn well wanted to be! “What kind of different choice could ya fuckin’ make? ‘Guess I’ll just be a slave to my family’s bullshit for the next—however long I got left to live’?” 

“If Hanzo and I were closer… I could have cooperated for his sake.” It seemed like Genji was looking right through him, unphased by his outburst, as though this was a conversation he’d had with himself many times before. “I did not care about his struggles. I was selfish.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Ain’t nothing wrong with wantin’ ta be who ya are.” Cassidy countered.

“No.” Genji’s eyes refocused back onto Cassidy. “I do not blame myself for wanting to be my own person. But in that, Hanzo could not be.”

“He coulda just followed yer lead.” Cassidy argued. “Coulda rebelled together.”

“That would have been impossible.” Genji snapped, but he quickly calmed himself with a deep breath out through his nose. He closed his eyes, mouthed a few words that Cassidy couldn’t hear, then opened them again to meet his gaze. “I am no fool— I know that it was only because of him that I was able to live so carelessly. Until our father died, at least.”

The quiet stretched on, slowly descending upon them like darkness smothered the sun underneath the dip of the horizon. There was a unique kind of restlessness that burned itself under Cassidy’s skin, something primal within him that still wanted to argue, but there was nothing to direct that energy towards. He thought of Hanzo in the training room, firing arrow after arrow, hitting target after target, sweat dripping down his face and the swell of his taught biceps, probably feeling that same pull. 

Cassidy pushed the thought from his mind. He traced a calloused finger across the small wooden table in absent patterns instead.

“When Hanzo approached me that night…” Cassidy looked up from his hands. Genji paused what he was saying, seeming conflicted. He crossed and uncrossed his fingers, flexing them whenever he brought them apart from one another, squeezing when they were laced again. He seemed to not know what to say.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, jus’ say it.” Cassidy’s voice sounded gruff to himself, too much like Reyes, too harsh. “I ain’t gonna try and fight ya on it no more, so jus… jus let it out.” 

“I have not shared this with anyone except for my Master.” His voice was almost a whisper. Cassidy sat up straighter, leaning in closer. Genji breathed deep again.

“... When Hanzo approached me on that fateful night… He did not immediately try to strike me down.” 

That somehow made Cassidy’s entire worldview blow wide open. Seeing his dumbstruck expression, Genji continued.

“I was young back then.” Genji reached for his face plate again, this time to put it back on. The hiss of connection between the nodes was like another grand sigh. “Hotheaded. You remember how I was.” It was the Genji that looked like Hanzo. Red eyed and angry like the nasty scorpions Cassidy was used to back home in Santa Fe. First time he called Genji that was the first time he managed to break through the ninja’s frightening exterior. Cassidy’d never heard of Mortal Kombat, but after Genji showed him… he had to agree. He was like Scorpion. At least back then. And Genji laughed, a loud, sharp bark in comparison to his now bubbly, infectious and joyful laughter. Reyes found them fighting in the common room, but this time, there were smiles on their faces. 

Another memory he’d thought he’d forgotten. Damn. He wished he had whiskey.

“Firecracker.” Cassidy cleared his throat, his tongue feeling quite too heavy for his mouth. He pressed on. “... Tired to kill me at least twice.” 

“Three times.” Genji corrected, but there was no humor in it. No amount of awkward pauses or turning this new information over in his mind would prepare him for what Genji said next.

“I tried to kill my brother first.”

The silence that followed that admission spoke louder than any words Cassidy could confidently give him. He wasn’t sure what he should say to something like that. 

“I am not asking you to befriend my brother.” Genji stood from the table, ferrying his still half empty but probably lukewarm tea cup to the sink. “Nor am I asking you to go out of your way to be kind to him.” He overturned the cup, emptying its remaining contents, then turned back to face Cassidy, who still very much had not moved, not even by a millimeter. “... Despite my forgiveness and understanding, my brother is still… more of an ass than I would like to admit.” Cassidy barked a surprised laugh at that, and the humor seemed to break the spell of this almost forbidden new knowledge, enough to allow him to drag in another desperate puff of his cigarillo. Genji continued. “Truthfully, Cassidy, I am not asking you for anything when it comes to my brother. The only favor I ask of you is that you do not kill him. I want to salvage what we have in front of us…. if possible. I know I must seem foolish to you.”

“I…” Cassidy sighed, blowing out a long puff of smoke. Thoughts of Reyes swirled through his head—if he were to come back, if he were to stumble across him again… Would Cassidy have the strength to forgive him? To offer him a second chance? Make up for what he fucked up? 

“I’ll try.” He finally said. “Cowboy’s honor.” He took his hat off, a show of sincerity, and he was relieved when the tightness in Genji’s shoulders finally eased. With a small wave Genji turned and strode back down into the dark, taking the final remnants of tension with him. 

Cassidy stayed in the kitchen a few minutes longer, turning what Genji said over and over in his mind, like the butt of the cigarillo between his lips until his body finally protested the slouch of his shoulders and the tug of sleep finally began to pull on the corners of his mind and vision. When he passed the training room on the way back, the light was still on. He could hear muffled thwack after thwack of arrows finding their marks, embedding themselves deep into their abused dummies. The bag in the center of the hallway had vanished. 

#ff: cage #ren writing #yeehan #overwatch #cole cassidy x hanzo shimada #fanfiction

[wellwrittenevilbitch]

Submitting Belial, from Granblue Fantasy!

He's an antagonist, fallen angel, described in game as "The Worst of the Worst". He's a pervert lustful man who only talks in innuendos and started about two apocalypses to get the attention of his creator, Lucilius, for whom he has romantic feelings for. He also got the angel he was created with, Lucifer, to be murdered so he could behead him, and use his corpses to sew Lucilius's head on it to bring him back to life. He also mentions an awful lot in front of Lucifer's (sort of) boyfriend, Sandalphon, that he has every intention to fuck that corpse (and also while blaming Sandalphon fully for the murder he himself orchestrated, by saying that Lucifer wouldn't have died if he wasn't trying to protect an unconscious Sandalphon). He also has a knack for manipulation, has infiltrated MC's dreams pretending to help them to try to mindcontrol them into killing their soulmates, or has pretended helping us by giving us a ship riddled with explosives. He does a lot of chaotic things just because things going well are boring to him. yet despite his long list of unredeemable crimes and the unredeemable evil nature of that guy, he comes from a very understandable place. As a fallen angel, he is a Primal Beasts, as per the game's lore, which means he's an immortal creature who was programmed with a purpose and an impulse to fulfill this purpose even if it's something he would develop to dislike. And while some primals can break free from their purposes, Belial always saw himself as limited by it, and he doesn't want to change that. He keeps that limitation because it is how his creator made him and he wants to honor his creator, whom he loves more than anything, so much. Yet his creator has always belittled him and insulted him, all while constantly praising Lucifer instead, which had Belial develop a huge inferiority complex and hatred for Lucifer despite Lucifer genuinely caring about him. Lucilius only ever replied with violence to Belial's affections which eventually is an explanation as to why Belial interprets violence as the ultimate showcase of love and sexuality -- yet when Lucilius is violent toward him, Belial tends to genuinely be taken aback for a minute before resigning himself to it. After Lucilius officially died and before Belial brought him back to life after getting Lucifer killed, Belial spent 2k years on the run laying low with mortals. In a rant near the end of his storyarc, where he pretends to kill himself, he mentions just how primal beasts are cursed by their immortality as it means they are doomed to never find anyone who would understand them, or if they do, they'd die eventually and leave them alone, which also justify why he cannot move on and keeps holding on to Lucilius. Belial showed affection to one angel otherwise, and it's Sariel, a primal beast who hated his purpose more than anything and just wanted to be left alone. For some reasons (likely, kinship?) Belial felt bad for Sariel's situation and eventually found a way out for him -- which resulted in Sariel becoming devoted to Belial. Not wanting Sariel to waste himself on someone like him, Belial pushed him away by tearing his wings apart and mocking him, only for us to learn afterward that by tearing his wings apart, Belial saved Sariel's life, and that nowadays Belial had been watching over Sariel silently to make sure he's okay.

tldr, All in all Belial comes off as rather tragic to me. He's been dealt bad cards from the start, and then he chooses to become even worse at every opportunity he could have had to become better. Any nice sides about him are buried through layers of self loathing and self destruction that destroys everyone around him at the same time. He has no intention to getting better because the euphoria he feels being able to love his creator is everything he needs in his life, and if he has to make himself worse for it, then so be it. And at this point he's too far gone anyway, he enjoys the chaos too much and made it too much of his personality for him to ever be able to reflect on his issues. He's fantastically written and there's even more i would read deeper into his character about, but i'm sticking to the facts to make my point for now.

In! Update:They were already in so you can submit another character if you want

#Submission

[strangerthingsstuff4]

She's like the wind- Part Six

Okay so i lied when i said this was getting posted last night, i may have fallen asleep. But here it is! i hope you guys like it!

Warning- Swearing, Sexual references, Sexual acts, Underage drinking, references of abuse, smoking.

Dylan slammed her bedroom door, her soaking wet jacket dripping onto the carpet at the force. She was drenched from head to toe, the cold rainy night of Hawkins had not been kind to her. She threw her keys onto her bed in anger, that asshole had stood her up. Billy had promised her he would be there!

They had made plans to meet at the cinema. They were going to see the new nightmare on elm street horror movie. Yet she had stood in front of the Pictures for over an hour waiting for his stupid ass, only leaving when her clothes had absorbed that much water that they felt three times as heavy. She had stomped her way home in the pouring rain, muttering about how she was going to beat the shit out of him for standing her up.

Dylan could still feel the bubbling anger in her stomach as she peeled her clothes off her body. Her skin was freezing to the touch, her waist length hair dripping onto the carpet. She had only agreed to the ‘date’ because he had nagged and nagged her to go and watch it with him. Personally, she thought it was just because he was a pussy and was too scared to see it by himself but part of her had hoped it was because he enjoyed her company, that he wanted to spend time with just the two of them. Clearly she was right about him though, he hadn’t shown so he obviously couldn’t care less about spending time with her, he didn’t even have the courtesy to cancel.

Once in a dry top and shorts, Dylan brushed through her hair and climbed on to her bed. Not even the feeling of being warm and dry could calm her down. She was going to rip that stupid mullet off his fat head.

Resigning to the notion that she wasn’t going to hear off him tonight, Dylan climbed under the covers and lay listening to rain. The water hammering the ground violently was a soothing sound and it did calm her down, but it was only temporary. A panicked tapping on the glass of her window instantly caught her attention. Rolling over her eyes instantly found Billy, crouched on the small roof outside her window.

‘What the fuck?!’ she muttered as she clambered over the mattress and moved to open the window.

The sound of the storm beat her ears when she slid the frame up for him. Billy climbed through, his heavy boots hitting the carpeted floor of her bedroom.

‘Look who finally showed, I think the movie finished about 30 minutes ago…what the hell are you doing out there?!’ she snarled moodily.

Billy looked a lot similar to her about half an hour ago. He was soaked through, his hair stuck to his face, rain droplets running down his nose. His teeth were stained red with what looked like dried blood, his knuckles were bruised and adorned the same red tint. He walked to the bedroom door and locked it, his breathing was ragged. He was panicking.

‘Billy, what’s going on you’re scaring me’

‘She took my fucking car’ he grumbled finally

‘Who?!’ Dylan questioned confused.

‘MAX!’ he yelled while he paced around her bedroom.

‘Neil freaked out when he got home because the little asshole snuck out of the house. I drove around everywhere looking for her only to find her in some fucking house in the middle of nowhere with your freak of a cousin’ he spat, a few stray curls falling in front of his face as he moved manically.

‘Steve?! What was he doing with Max?! where were they?!’

‘In that weird kid Jonathan’s house, all those weird kids were there. Tell me why your cousin was in a random house with a bunch of kids?!’

‘He has a weird relationship with them, why were they in Jonathan’s house?’ Dylan questioned; her voice laced with fear.

‘I don’t know! He freaked out so we had a little scuffle and then Max injected me with some shit that made me pass out, I woke up and my car was gone’ Billy explained as he slumped down to sit on the end of her bed, his head in his hands.

Dylan looked at him confused, trying to process what he had just said. She watched him for a few moments to find any sign that he was drunk or high. She couldn’t see anything past his wet top, half opened, clinging to his tense arms. She took a deep breath and brought herself back to reality.

‘Billy what have you taken?’ she chuckled lightly, unsure of herself.

Billy’s head snapped up and his glare found her.

‘I’m not fucking high!’ he snapped at her

‘Well you’re not making any sense, are you sure you didn’t just have a bad trip?’ Dylan asked softly while moving to sit next to him on the end of her mattress.

‘No! I’m telling you there’s something off with your cradle robber cousin’ he grumbled, fingers finding their way through his wet curls again.

‘What did she inject you with?’

‘I don’t fucking know! There was just this big ass needle lying on the side, by the looks of the place it could’ve been anything, Heroin or coke, have you seen that place?! There’s weird fucking drawings taped to the floors, walls, ceilings. It’s a fucking freakshow… I just remember going all dizzy, Max swung some bat with nails or something at my cock and I blacked out’

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh as he explained how his little sister had nearly neutered him. He scowled at her from the side of his hands, that were still covering his face. He sat up properly and moved his feet out in front of him.

‘I’m glad you’re finding this so funny’

‘I’m sorry it’s just… your sisters so little and she beat the shit out of you’ Dylan continued to giggle at his expense.

‘She could’ve killed me… and she’s not my sister’ he muttered, standing up and beginning to pace again.

‘Alright calm down… let me clean your hands’ she offered and went to walk out of her room.

‘I don’t need my hands cleaning! I need to find my fucking car!’

‘Hey! Being a dick to me won’t make yours bigger! Or get your car back! If I ring around then will you let me clean your hands?’ she snapped back.

Billy huffed and agreed, Dylan scavenged around for her aunts phone book and began dialing numbers. He just wanted his car back and to have all of their heads in a bag. Steve was dead the next time he saw him and as for Max, that little shit bird was going to wish she’d never been born, her and Sinclair both.

Dylan eventually put the phone down and looked over at Billy, disappointment and a small hint of fear written on her face.

‘Fuck!’ he yelled.

‘Where the fuck are they all?!’ Dylan groaned frustrated.

Billy walked the length of her bedroom, his head thrown back. She just wanted to jump on him, he was so fine. Shifting herself where she sat, she felt a small amount of satisfying friction.

‘Look, I’m sure your car is fine okay, Steve drives like an old lady. Besides if he does total it-‘

‘Don’t’ Billy interrupted knowing exactly what she was about to say. A small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘We could find you something with a bit more style’ She finished, a laugh forming with her last few words.

Billy felt his mood lift instantly at the sound. Billy stepped forwards and bent forward, grabbing her by the hips he threw Dylan over his shoulder. A small squeal erupted from her mouth as she got a grip on his shirt in panic.

‘You guys got a pool don’t you?’ he asked sarcastically, his back taking her force of her pounds.

‘NO! no please I’m sorry’ she laughed while he took a few step towards he bedroom door.

Billy continued to walk, fear of being thrown into a cold pool in the rain sinking into Dylan as she began wiggling more furiously. Billy’s face had split into a cheeky grin as he walked down the hallway, stopping out side the bathroom door and gently placing her on the floor.

‘You’re such a dick’ she grinned while shoving his arm.

Dylan had sat him on the closed toilet while she dabbed at the cuts on his hands with cotton pads. He winced slightly every now and then and she giggled every time. Billy honestly thought he was addicted to that noise, he could listen to it all day. Once she had finished his hands, she moved to tend to the redness surrounding his eye. She moved her face closer to get a better view of herself dabbing at his skin gently. She didn’t notice how his deep blue eyes immediately locked onto her. Billy could smell the toothpaste on her breath as it washed over his face, he could still smell a hint of the perfume she must’ve worn to meet him. She was perfect, everything from how her damp hair was falling over her shoulders, all the way down to her feet that were crossed as she was knelt in front of him.

Billy didn’t even think about it as he lunged his head forward and connected their lips. Taken completely by surprise it took Dylan a second to realize what he was doing. She moved her mouth in sync with his, nicotine on his breath, she wanted to inhale him. The cotton pad was long forgotten on the floor as Dylan stumbled to her feet, following his body, Billy’s legs making him at least a foot taller than her. Tongues danced with each other and fought for dominance as Billy forced Dylan backwards towards the sink. They fell backwards until she felt the blunt bite of the sink digging into her ass.

Dylan’s hands had found their way up over his damp chest and shoulders, into his tangled curls. She tugged hard, eliciting a growl to emit from deep inside his throat. Billy hooked his paw like hand under her knee and lifted her to sit on edge of the sink. Toothbrushes, soaps and cans of various selfcare products hit the floor while the couple got more heated in their throw of passion. Small moans and groans began to escape their mouths, hands grabbed desperately as items of clothing.

Billy had made sure that she was sat on the very edge of the counter so that he could wedge himself between her legs, feeling himself pressed against her in a way that sent a shiver up his spine. Dylan began fiddling with whatever buttons were left done up on his shirt, yanking it out of his pants to open it wide, revealing his ripped chest and stomach. Her head was fuzzy and just full of him, everything about him. His scent, his touch, his taste.

Their lips only broke apart to allow Dylan’s top to pass between them, leaving her naked from the waist up. Billy didn’t give himself a chance to admire her chest before his lips landing on hers again. Sloppy wet kisses passed between them both, he could feel her nipples hard and pressing beautifully against his chest.

‘Hold on’ he mumbled into her mouth.

Hands sliding under Dylan’s ass cheeks, Billy lifted her up with ease. Her legs locked around his waist tightly and her arms connected around his neck. Dylan’s breasts were pushed flush against his soft skin. She moved her assault of wet kisses to his neck, giving him the chance to watch where he was walking. He maneuvered them both back to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped her down onto the bed, leaving her bouncing softly against the springs. Billy quickly slipped off his wet unbuttoned shirt and began unbuckling his belt, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘That’s my job’ Dylan objected while she slowly sat forward and swatted his hands away.

Releasing a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Billy let his head fall back and he let her work on removing his belt and un doing his jeans. It was finally about to happen; he was about to have her. For weeks now all he had thought about was what it would feel like to have her wrapped around him, whether that be her mouth or her pussy he didn’t care. He just wanted to be inside of her somehow, to feel a part of her. A small chuckle fell from his lips when Dylan struggled to pull his damp jeans down his thighs.

‘Don’t help it’s fine’ she grinned in a sarcastic tone.

Billy licked his lips and forced his pants to sit just about his knees. He ignored the dull pain that he caused himself and focused on the masterpiece in front of him. Long hair falling over her shoulders, failing at covering her hard nipples, lips swollen, and big green eyes fixed on the bulge in front of her.

‘Oh fuck… I knew you were gonna be packing but Jesus’

Dylan was a little taken back by the piece at eye level with her. The rain had seeped right though to his boxer shorts, accentuating the thick veins that ran over him. Billy bucked his hips a little impatiently as she reached her hand out and grabbed hold of him firmly.

‘Don’t be a fucking tease’ he growled in frustration, looking down at her through his lashes.

‘Now where would the fun be if I wasn’t’ Dylan smirked before gently running her parted lips over the length of him.

He had had enough, he didn’t like being teased, he liked being in charge. He liked being the one that decided when it started and when it finished, and he wanted to start fucking her more than he had ever wanted anything. Billy leant down and gripped her face between his thumb and fingers. Her cheeks slightly squashed, he got nice and close to her, once again feeling her breath run over his face.

‘If you don’t put that cock down your throat in the next 5 seconds I am going to bend you over and fuck you so hard you won’t be getting out of this bed for a week’

Dylan couldn’t help but feel like she had been winded. This was a side of him she had been wanting to see for a long time but even with it in front of her, she still felt as though she wasn’t ready for it. He looked bigger and broader, manlier somehow. He released her face and stood up straight, gaze still locked on her waiting for her to make her decision. She looked back and slowly lowered her head, flicking her tongue out over his head outside of his underwear. She knew exactly what she was doing, teasing him to the point of no return until he explodes and rails her, just like she had imagined.

It didn’t take as long as she had expected to get him to pop. In seconds he had his arm around her waist and was flipping her over onto her stomach, he then proceeded to yank her ass into the air, so she was rested on her knees. Billy yanked her shorts down to lie on her bent legs, he was greeted by her bare and shaved.

‘No underwear? Someone was expecting me’ he moaned at the sight of her pussy, already wet and glistening at him.

‘They tend to get in the way’ Dylan grinned; her face pressed against the sheets.

He spread his fingers wide across her ass cheeks and opened her up a little more. He watched her clench just from his touch. Billy could have come right there. She was too much, even when she wasn’t doing anything. His tongue was demanding a taste of her and he was happy to oblige. Bending down on one knee, Billy softly let his tongue enter her folds just above her clit and let it swipe straight up over her, only stopping when he felt the deep puddle that was her entrance. She was sweeter than he could ever have imagined, as was the gasp that fell from her mouth. He was obsessed with her, she was like an addiction he just needed more and more of her.

Dylan felt him push his tongue back between her and flicks quickly over the tip of her clit. Her eyes had rolled back, and her mouth had dropped wide open the second his mouth had touch her. Her knuckles had turned white from clinging onto the blanket so tightly. Billy continued tasting her, never staying on one rhythm for too long. Her breathing turned to pants as little moans began pouring out of her mouth. Billy struggled to remove his shoes, socks and jeans all while keeping his attack on her body going. He managed to pull it off smoothly and threw all his concentration onto this beautiful body that was completely at his mercy.

Billy wrapped his right arm over her back, keeping her steady while he plunged his tongue straight into her pussy, lapping up all of her juices. His cock was straining against his boxer shorts, begging to be set free. Dylan was mewling on the bed, legs shaking. No matter how much she had imagined what his tongue would feel like, this was ten times better.

‘Oh my god’ she panted, to which Billy smiled with his face still buried into her.

‘Fuck this little pussy tastes so fucking good’ he groaned as he climbed back onto his feet.

Billy climbed back up onto his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He was going to be craving this taste for the rest of his life.

Dylan lifted her head and looked over her, wanting to know why he had stopped. She watched him wiggle out of his boxers, his dick springing free, tip shining in the light, wet with pre cum.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at before guided himself into her. Every inch of him sparks a new level of pleasure for both of them, his head rolled back on to his shoulders and her eyes rolled back into her head. Both mouths were wide open, deep sighs of satisfaction filling the silent room.

Dylan’s nails cut into her palms as she tensed, soaking in every second of this feeling. This was what she had wanted since she saw him stomping over to her in that car park.

Billy bottomed out, waist flush against her ass cheeks. He wedged his fingers into the crease between her stomach and her thighs. After soaking in the feeling of being completely wrapped in her, he slowly pulled himself out, all the way to the tip. And slammed himself back in. Dylan yelped at the sudden force but got submerged in the pleasure of him fucking her as he continued to thrust himself into her. He hit every sweet spot imaginable.

A few stray curls fell in front of Billy’s face and bounced along with him. He couldn’t get enough of her, watching her cheeks bounce off him and fall back to him. It was picture worthy, if only he a camera. Dylan’s moans filled his ears like the sweetest music he ever heard.

Dylan flipped her hair over her other shoulder so she could turn her neck to get a better look of this god that was pounding into her. It was as though she could feel him in her stomach, the dull pain was nothing compared to the feeling of clenching around him. Her head was yanked backwards as he twisted his fingers into her hair. Dylan’s back arched as Billy pulled her head up, somehow managing to force himself into her even harder.

‘Fuckkk’ she yelled at the ceiling, determined to keep herself balanced on her arms, despite them shaking.

Pulling her hair even tighter, Billy forced Dylan to kneel up on her knees properly. His hand shot to her breast, holding her body up so he could drill into her. Her head was leant back on her neck but she could barely see him, her eyes watering from the sting of her hair pulling against her scalp. After a few moments he released his grip on her and let her fall flat on the bed, Dylan panted as her body readjusted to new position.

Billy stepped back and pulled her shorts off her legs completely. They were flung across the room and forgotten. It took every ounce of strength she had left in her legs, but Dylan managed to get herself into a standing position. She wanted to show him that she could fuck him just as good as he could fuck her.

‘Sit’ she demanded of him while pointing at the center of her bed.

Billy raised his eyebrow a little but did as he was told, intrigued. He settled himself in the middle of the mattress, head lay against her soft feather pillows and legs outstretched. Dylan couldn’t help but laugh at his cockiness, he had thrown his arms behind his head, waiting for her next move.

She climbed onto the bed in between his legs, looking him straight in the eye Dylan licked a long slow stripe straight up the shaft of his cock. The inhale that escaped his plump rosy lips only encouraged her. Moving up his body she made sure to let her nipple follow the path her tongue had just written. Billy’s head shot up to watch her move so her face was hovering over his own. Dylan let her tongue gently skate over the space between his lips.

‘You’re never gonna forget this pussy Hargrove’ she whispered into his mouth with a small smirk dancing on her lips.

Billy felt as though his was about to roll off his shoulder, he could have been dreaming. When he had met this girl he knew he wanted her in his bed but here, as she turned and straddled him reverse cowgirl, he could have sworn he was in love.

Dylan slowly let herself slide back down onto him, reveling in the moment. She was going to make sure that every time he had some girl sat on him, he was going to be thinking of her. As though it was effortless Dylan began sliding herself up and down on him, the feel of her ass jiggling as she went only made her clench on him.

Billy was a mess, watching her twerk on his cock was something he never knew he needed. Moans and groans poured out of his mouth like liquid, his hands moving to her sides to feel her flesh move as she rode him.

‘You’re so fucking hot’ he growled, pressing his chin further into his chest so he could watch her.

‘Hmm that feel good?’ she moaned back at him, concentrating on his pace.

‘So fucking good… I’ll never forget this pussy’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise’

Billy was weak to her, she was so perfect and he would fold to her every will if she let him belong to that pussy. His moans got progressively louder as he felt that twinge in his stomach. That knot was about to come undone, he couldn’t cum yet. Billy Hargrove had a reputation of making girls cum a number of times before he searched for his own, he couldn’t let her break it.

‘Shit, stop’ he groaned, slightly panicked.

Dylan didn’t listen, she wanted him, every last drop of him. Clenching even tighter around him, she started moving herself over him faster an faster.

‘Fuck baby stop’ he all but yelled at her.

His hips were defying him as they thrust up into her, both of her ass cheeks creating a slapping sounds as they connected his hips. It was too late, Billy shot up into a sitting position in the hope he could get her off of him and save himself from shooting his load. With his hand wrapped around Dylan’s waist, Billy reluctantly pushed himself deep into her and released himself against her cervix. Dylan moaned as he pushed himself deeper into her and held her against his chest. Billy groaned at the sweet sensation of his balls tightening and that sweet release he enjoyed so much. This time was different though, as good as it felt he was disappointed in himself. This was pretty much the girl of his dreams and he hadn’t been able to finish her off before she could finish him.

The couple fell back onto the bed, Dylan on his chest with him still inside her. They lay panting and sweating.

‘Shit… sorry’ he mumbled after a few seconds of silence.

Dylan giggled as she climbed off him and stood up off the bed.

‘I told you, you’ll never forget this pussy’ she winked before exiting the room and walking to the bathroom.

Billy just lay there catching his breath, trying to understand what had just happened. He had fucked her, he had finally fucked her. Sure he would have had it last a lot longer but that was the best sex he had ever had by a mile.

Dylan returned to her room and climbed back onto the bed next to him.

‘Guessing you wanna cuddle or some shit now’ he rolled his eyes at her playfully.

‘I was more thinking we smoke a blunt and go again’ she grinned at him, her face still wearing the glow of sweat.

Billy’s face dropped as he looked at her for a moment, eyes scanning over every feature of her face.

‘Fuck where’ve you been my entire life’ He grinned back at her.

#billy hargrove smut #dacre montgomery #robin buckley #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things fanfiction #harringrove #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things

[tricksterrune]

The Izzy Hands Brainrot is real

So, I’ve been having thoughts about Izzy Hands. And snippets of fanfic I haven’t written creep in, so this is going to be a wild mash-up. For your sake under the cut. It features in non-chronological order: Izzy’s and Ed’s co-dependent dysfunctional relationship, Izzy at the brink of death, gardening, Izzy at a stitch-and-bitch with Mary Bonnet, personal growth and Steven Universe fusions (not really, altough....)

sorry for the braindump.

To set the scene: Stede has caught up to Ed but before anything meaningful beyond a glance can happen, they are being attacked. It’s chaos. In the firefight, the enemy shoots at Ed, but Izzy pushes him out of the way, ending up wounded himself. It’s chaos after that, too, with Ed being extra violent and Stede a little bit frightened of this side he hasn’t seen before.

Ed pokes Izzy with his foot to get up, maybe telling him that’s no time to laze about. But Izzy doesn’t get up. There’s a substantial pool of blood surrounding him, it’s bad. Yet he still manages to ask Ed if he’s safe.

Izzy fades in and out of consciousness, finally comes to for more than a few seconds in bed, overhearing a hushed conversation about shellshocked Ed and voice-of-reason-Stede. It boils down to the fact that Izzy can’t be cared for on board of the ship, he needs proper medical attention, rest and stability. Since they’re not far from his home, Stede proposes to take Izzy to a local doctor.

Izzy makes it known that he’s awake by coughing up blood or some equally charming. Ed rushes to his side, hovering. Izzy is resigned and hurt (in more ways than one) and takes it out on Ed. Saying how he’s pushed aside for someone better, that Ed is abandoning him after everything that Izzy has done for him. Izzy tells him that for years he has done everything to keep Ed safe, he ran his ship, covered for him, carried out his orders, maintained Blackbeard’s reputation, all to keep Ed safe, to keep him alive, only to be cast aside when he’s not useful anymore. Ed wants to counter that that’s not what he wanted, that Izzy trapped him in that reputation, but is interrupted by more coughing or Izzy bleeding through his bandages. As he tries to fix it or help him up, he realizes that it’s been years since he had a honest-to-god conversation, talked about anything meaningful or asked anything personal about Izzy. Izzy does not want to go, tells Ed he knew he’d give his life for Ed (after all, he’s had a lot of practice). And probably cusses out Stede for tainting Ed with softness, for making him unsafe, almost getting him killed.

But Izzy is in bad shape (and the plot demands thusly) and Stede (in either a wig and/or fake moustache and a fake unbelievable accent) accompanies Izzy to the doctor. As for recuperation.....well, he asks Mary.

Mary is less than enthusiastic but goes along with it and agrees to house Izzy until he’s recovered. Stede and Ed go back to the ship, Izzy stays behind. He is less angry than resigned after being replaced. He gets along surprisingly well with Mary. He doesn’t curse too much (he doesn’t need to give any orders or defend Blackbeard or bear the responsibility of both first mate and captain at the same time) and he feels a kinship (at first it’s misguided) with her, both effectiely spouses left behind for a shiny new plaything, regardless of their sacrifice.

Mary warms up to him and when he is well enough, includes him in a few of her activities. It’s not improper (to the society) since he’s obviously a widower still in mourning, as is she (somewhat). Something in Izzy wants to rebel at the thought of luxury but he has a (the first of several) revelation: he doesn’t dislike soft things or luxury per se. He only did when he had too much weight on his shoulders, when he was so focused on survival that he couldn’t contemplate any unnecessary expense. And Mary doesn’t need protection in the form of a ruthless reputation, she does quite well on her own. (I love the mental image of inviting Izzy to a stitch’n’bitch with lots of gossiping ladies who adore him for his gives-no-fucks-attitude. And that he can sew reasonably well). Izzy does a bit of healing (in more ways than one). Also the kids think he’s scary at first, but quickly grow to love Uncle Izzy who teaces them cuss words and goes along with their fanciful ideas because they’re kids and should be indulged and he can afford it and he doesn’t need to be who he was to keep them safe. Izzy grows more carefree since he has no responsibilities but to himself and everything is well.

Until Ed and Stede come back to check on him. Stede is put off that Mary and the kids get along so well with Izzy and that makes Izzy glad in a very petty way. (mental image of somehting like a kite stuck in a tree and Izzy smugly climbing up to get it after seeing Stede failing at retrieving it). Then it’s time for the heart to heart with Ed.

Both apologize. Izzy explains that he’s had a lot of time to think and the problem with Blackbeard wasn’t that it was a facade or bad for Ed or dragged on for too long - it was all of that and it was bad for Izzy, too.

Blackbeard wasn’t you.

Blackbeard was us.

Ed and Izzy created Blackbeard together, for safety, for protection and it worked too well, until they didn’t know how to stop. Ed checked out and left Izzy to cover for him and Izzy poured everything he had into the role. He worked tirelessly to take over Ed’s tasks while fulfilling his original role; he became a mean angry bastard because he had to be; he became the manager from hell because he believed that anything less would jeopardize their (mainly Ed’s) safety. He didn’t know how to stop. He wasn’t a fan of Ed’s initial idea of retirement, but saw it as a way out that would keep Ed safe, getting rid of Blackbeard. But he went along until he saw that Ed wasn’t sticking to it anymore; that his worst fears had become true. Ed showed softness and in Izzy’s mind alarm sirens blared (anachronistically) that Ed was in danger and that Izzy had to, yet again, step up and take over.

(I had that thought like a week ago after I thought about a Steven Universe AU and just when I asked myself if a fusion between Ed and Izzy would be stable or instable, I realized that they already had one - Blackbeard).

Izzy apologizes that he lost sight of what mattered - Ed - and hurt him in the process, stifling Ed, when what he wanted was the opposite.

Ed apologizes, too. For taking Izzy granted, for using him as a crutch so long he’d stopped thinking of him as his friend, as a person, only as his function. For piling more and more work on him, using Izzy for everything until Izzy had no life, too. Until they both were nothing more than shadow puppets, acting out the same thing over and over again because he couldn’t just talk to Izzy like a normal person. For not seeing Izzy - brave, loyal Izzy who protected him for years until Blackbeard had become a cage for them both. 

Ed takes in this Izzy - collar undone, pants rolled up, naked feet in the sand (guilt for his cruelty), yet still marked by him with (if canonical his name on his face, or at least by) the bandage around his torso, another sign of how much of himself Izzy had given for Ed.

Ed cradles his face, thumb stroking over the tattoo, the mirror of what Izzy had done.

“You’re in love with me, Izzy, aren’t you?”

“Have been for the past 20 years, but thank you for noticing.”

Then it’s a bit awkward because Ed does not have romantic love for Izzy but love nontheless.

They decide to bury Blackbeard on the beach.

Izzy takes off the ring around his neckerchief.

“Blackbeard, I let you go.”

It’s awkward still.

What are you going to do now? Ed asks, because he wants Izzy’s honest opinion and not to hear the answer Izzy thinks Ed wants to hear (because that has been the right answer).

I’m not sure. I don’t know who I am without Blackbeard.

Because Izzy has defined himself as part of him for years, eroded his will bit by bit.

I’m not Blackbeard’s first mate. I am nothing. I‘m empty.

You’re my-.... you’re Izzy. You’re my best friend. I would love to have you onboard. And yet I understand if you don’t....if you need space.

Because this distance from one another has been one of the best things that has happened in years, brought them so much growth and clarity.

I think....I want to be happy.

I want you to be happy, too, Iz.

How does one get to be happy?

You do things you like, I suppose. Spend time with people you like. And don’t care what others think of you.

Like you and Stede?

Faintly blushing, Yes. He makes me happy.

The jealousy does sting like a gunshot wound (and Izzy can compare).

Izzy decides to come along to “be a useless fucker”. Because their ship is filled with them but they’re happy so he wants a turn at being useless.

So he rejoins the ship, but not as first mate (Olu gets a promotion?), he’s finally free of responsibilities.

There’s a readjustment period where he instinctively wants to yell, tell people what to do, but he stops himself. The crew is weirded out at first, but the co-captains seem happy and Izzy not insulting them feels good. Plus, they realize why he’s been hounding them for maintenance and work when the ship almost falls apart a few days in because Izzy has stopped working overtime and they need to step up.

He tries a bit of everything (cooking, sewing, singing, crude pictures) but doesn’t find what is right for him. At one point they get news from Mary and the kids (mail? can pirates get mail?), Mary sends him a letter and the kids have enclosed things, among them pressed flowers and a few seeds and Izzy wonders aloud if one can have a garden on a ship. Ed and Stede are delighted and together they try to find out.

#ofmd #izzy hands #blackbeard #edward teach #stede bonnet #mary bonnet #blackhands #blackbonnet

[starbuck]

The state of Ed and Izzy’s relationship is so depressing because Izzy is so used to being passively treated like shit (Ed expecting him to manage all the boring or difficult tasks he doesn’t feel like doing without a single ounce of gratitude) and so sick of it, that he sees being actively treated like shit (Ed force-feeding him his own toe) as not only acceptable but wildly preferable because at least it’s, for the first time in years probably, acknowledgement.

I mean, think about it, in the first conversation we see them have, Ed is facing away from Izzy the entire time. Doesn’t even look at him once. So Izzy’s at the point where ANY attention Ed pays him, however violent, feels like positive attention by default. I don’t think he’d even know how to process being treated with actual respect or compassion anymore.

#our flag means death #ofmd #because - again - Izzy knowingly brings the toe thing upon himself #i mean obviously he couldn’t know precisely what Ed would do to him but he absolutely knew what he was doing when he threatened him #because inciting Ed into violence against him is the only way Izzy can get his attention and get through to him #which is a terrible thing to say but - as things stand right now - it’s true #the first time we see Ed truly listen to Izzy is when his hand is around Izzy’s throat #they are so beyond the point of just having a normal human conversation #because Ed says ‘you know we share our feelings on this ship’ but that’s bullshit #Izzy has tried to explain his feelings and concerns to Ed and been ignored or dismissed every single time #it’s a pretty widely-held opinion that Izzy WANTS Ed to be violent towards him - but i don’t think that’s true #i don’t think that’s the attention Izzy *wants* from Ed at all (if his getting distracted by Ed’s lips in the midst of threatening him is #any indication) #but he’s resigned himself to violent attention being the only attention he’s going to get #and the only way he can get Ed to listen to him and (from his perspective) stop behaving self-destructively #he doesn’t believe he deserves better or that anything better is even possible #as long as it keeps them alive and as long as Ed needs him it’s FINE #but it ISN’T fine and they can’t keep going on like this #the situation as it stands right now is untenable… something has to give

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Arthur throws a tantrum that has severe consequences;

Merlin suffers, and Gwaine just about manages to stop himself from killing The King.

TW: Extreme body horror and blood and grossness.

They're in a cave.

It's dark, and damp, and far too quiet, so despite the fact that their quest was successful, The King, his manservant, and Camelot's six best knights are still slightly on edge.

The traps had been circumvented, the artefact had been collected, the curse had been broken, and they were on their way home, but the buzz of dark magic hums through Merlin and Sir Mordred’s skulls, and the uneasy looks they keep sending each other worry Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine, which in turn worries everyone else.

Gwaine doesn’t know about Merlin’s magic, though he does know that the younger man has a lot more to do with Camelot’s (and Arthur’s) continued survival than he lets on. He won’t push, he won’t ask, but he’s an observant man who places all of his faith in Merlin, so if covering for him whenever Arthur casually asks if he saw the servant at the tavern, or supporting Lancelot whenever he makes a loud comment based on Merlin’s subtle whispered suggestion, is all he can do? Fine. He’ll do it.

Merlin’s face when he does so is always a little bit heartbreaking. He’s clearly grateful, for the trust, for the back up, for the belief, but Gwaine can see the desperation in his expression. Guilt and fear and apprehension all rolled into one, covered with a weak smile and a cheeky wink. Gwaine always pretends not to notice, and he can tell that sometimes Merlin is more grateful for that than he is for the original help.

Merlin’s stiffening back and faltered step finally persuades Gwaine that it’s time to step in again, but before he can loudly ask the group if anything feels off, a deep rumble echoes from below their feet.

It’s quiet to start with and the whole group freezes, gazes shifting sharply back in the direction they had come from; it’s only when the rumble suddenly morphs into a loud series of crashes and dust begins falling from the ceiling in aggressive swirls that Mordred yells:

“Cave-in!! We need to go!”

They all begin sprinting down the corridor, desperately hoping that their memory was serving them well; if they were right, if they hadn’t made any wrong turns or miscalculated the distance, the cave exit should be just around the corner. The rumbling only grows louder as they run, and within seconds, pebbles, and soon larger rocks and boulders, are falling from the ceiling. 

It’s only Merlin, pushing himself faster so he can catch up to Leon, grabbing his cloak and pulling him to a halt, that stops the older knight from being crushed by falling debris. The curly haired knight widens his eyes for a fraction of a second before taking Merlin’s hand in his own and pulling him to catch up with the others, resigning himself to thanking the servant profusely when they were no longer running for their lives.

Everyone coughs the dirt from their lungs and rubs it from their eyes, hands out in front of them to stop them from running face first into a wall; Arthur’s victorious yell when they turn a sharp corner to see bright sunshine spilling into the tunnel about fifty feet ahead of them spurs the group even faster.

The ground somehow begins to shake even more viciously, and Elyan trips. He trips, and suddenly finds himself lifted in the air, only for a second, before he lands solidly on his two feet again. The knight knows magic when he feels it, and the others know it when they see it, so when the shaking stops all of a sudden, the dust frozen in the air and boulders shaking above their heads, they halt in their tracks.

Merlin, at the back of the group, lets out a pained groan, and all of their heads whip around, every single one of them panicking at the thought that their friend had been crushed or captured by some evil sorcerer. Their view of him is quickly blocked by Lancelot, though they can all see the servant’s shaking arms above his head, palms facing the no-longer-crumbling ceiling.

Gwaine is the first to step forward, cautious but quick, and he takes in a gasp at Merlin’s golden eyes. Lancelot doesn’t even spare him a glance, hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he lets out panicked whispers:

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Merlin, come on, you can’t hold this.”

Merlin just groans again, the sweat gathering on his brow as he grinds his teeth together, barely even paying attention to Lancelot, and paying even less attention when Arthur finally steps sideways, sharply inhaling at the obvious display of sorcery. Everyone seems to have gathered what’s going on now, and their gazes are ripped from the struggling servant when Arthur clenches his fists and harshly sneers:

“You’re a sorcerer! How long? How long have you been betraying me?!”

When the King takes a threatening step towards him, Gwaine moves to be in his way, landing a strong hand on his shoulder and responding with equal anger:

“He’s not betraying you, you arsehole, he just saved all of our lives.”

Arthur throws his hand off violently and it’s only Leon’s quick reaction that stops him from punching the knight, though Gwaine looks as if he’d rather enjoy the fight. Lancelot turns his head quickly, scowling at both of them but not releasing his hold on Merlin as he rushes out:

“We don’t have time for this, we need to figure out how to get out.”

The King doesn’t seem to take in his words, just stares at him with disgust as he notices the way he’s practically holding Merlin up:

“And you knew? You’re a traitor too then?”

The ground shakes, only briefly, but it’s enough to remind everyone of the situation at hand, and Percival jumps in, ignoring Arthur’s anger and Gwaine’s mistrust as he puts a supporting hand on Merlin’s ribs:

��Can you move whilst holding it up? We’re about thirty feet from the exit.”

Merlin just shakes his head, eyes clenched tightly shut and jaw so tense that Lance worries about the state of his teeth. He takes in a ragged breath, sounding as if he has gravel in his lungs, as he stutters out:

“Can’t... you leave.... run.”

Arthur lets out a loud growl, and Gwaine turns to him in anger, but before he can throw an insult (or a punch) the ground shakes again; Mordred only just manages to grab Percival’s hand and sharply pull him down before his skull is caved in by the ceiling falling half a metre.

Merlin lets out another loud whine, and Lancelot releases a sharp breath at the trickle of blood coming from his nose. The knight’s voice is desperate as he speaks:

“Come on, Merlin, use that big brain of yours, how do we get out? You’ve dealt with worse.”

Merlin can only shake his head again, and a crack echoes down the corridor as he screams. One of his arms falls limply to his side and the knights notice with growing horror the odd angle of his collar bone and the lumps of bone under his skin. Tears leak from his eyes as he groans and his breath deepens, only managing to yell one word in his agony:

“RUN!”

The shout jolts the knights out of their terror, but Arthur seems to ignore him again:

“You’re a fucking trai-”

Gwaine does manage to throw a punch this time, but Leon pulls Arthur back before he can retaliate, dragging him back a few steps. Mordred grabs Lancelot’s arm, muttering so only the knight can hear:

“He’ll be fine, remember? We will not, we need to go.”

Lancelot gives Merlin a tender kiss on the forehead, muttering whispered desperate apologies to his best friend before turning and shooing Percival back down the corridor:

“Go, go! We need to go, he can’t hold it much longer!”

Arthur is suddenly reminded of the collapsing cave around him, anger at Merlin morphing into anger at the universe for both making his manservant a traitor, and making him find out in the middle of a life-threatening emergency. He stumbles towards the exit, hand covering his mouth against the dust and pebbles that are falling through the air once more. 

Percival and Elyan follow reluctantly, looking back at their tortured friend with tears in their eyes, but move towards the sunlight regardless. Gwaine moves in the opposite direction, planting his feet in front of Merlin and cupping his jaw softly with both hands, resting their foreheads together. He ignores Merlin’s whispered “Go...” and digs his feet in when Leon and Lancelot attempt to pull him away.

It’s Leon that yells:

“Gwaine, come on, there’s nothing you can do!” as the two of them finally manage to force him back, but he thrashes in their hold, screams echoing down the cavern:

“NO! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM!! LET ME FUCKING GO!!”

They only manage to drag him back a few feet before he breaks free, sprinting back towards Merlin. The servant opens his bloody eyes, glancing over Gwaine’s shoulder to see Mordred, Elyan, Percival, and Arthur falling out into the sun. He looks back to Gwaine when he feels his warm, calloused hands on his cheeks again, letting out a pained sob before grinding out a cracking:

“I’m... I’m sorry.”

He lifts his broken arm with a loud yelp, placing his violently shaking hand against Gwaine’s chest and pushing. His eyes flash brighter for a second, his scream guttural and horrifying, but all Gwaine can focus on is the way his body flies through the air with a force he’d never known; within seconds, he, Lancelot, and Leon are having their falls broken by sunlight and soft grass.

He whips his head up, wiping the hair from his eyes with a hand shaking from adrenaline. He can still see Merlin, now on his knees with agony scrawled across his face and blood pouring from his mouth; Gwaine’s brain supplies the explanation that the servant had probably bitten his tongue clean off, with the way his jaw was clenched so harshly. He stumbles to his feet, an outraged shriek bursting forth when Leon and Lancelot rush to grab him once again, stopping him from running back into the collapsing cave. He pulls against them, but it’s no use, and the last thing he sees before the dust blinds him is Merlin’s tired, bloody smile of relief at seeing him safe.

~

The impact of the mountain falling, even only a few feet, was felt across the entire Kingdom. The sudden earthquake threw all of the knights to the floor and it was only when the shaking stopped that they could finally stand again. It took a few more moments for the dust to settle enough that they could clearly see, but Gwaine’s breath is snatched from him when he looks to the cave entrance to see nothing but rubble.

He immediately rushes towards the cliff face, managing to evade Leon and Lancelot’s grabbing hands and uncaring of the danger of unstable debris. He hands land roughly on the stone, digging the fingers of one hand into cracks, and thumping his other hand, curled into a fist, against the rocks repeatedly:

“MERLIN!!”

His voice almost cracks, but he doesn’t care, continuing his desperate attempt to dislodge the boulders despite the others’ shouted warnings. Percival manages to grip his shoulder tight enough that Gwaine can’t slip free, and yanks him away from the caved-in entrance, but the shorter knight just whirls around in anger:

“What are you doing? He might still be alive in there!”

Percival shakes his head, tears in his eyes, but before he can respond Arthur pushes him out of the way and lands a hard punch to Gwaine’s cheek. The knight’s head rocks to the side, but he’s whirling back again within moments, being held back just in time by Percival before he can retaliate:

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?! You knew he was a traitor!”

Mordred clenches his hands and jaw in anger, but manages to keep any attacks in, verbal or otherwise. Leon and Elyan seem to be ignoring the fight entirely; the past few minutes had seemed to catch up with them as they stare despondently at the fallen debris. Lancelot stands back, looking an odd mix between heartbroken and frustrated, eyes darting around the clearing as if he were waiting for something.

Gwaine squares his shoulders, shrugging Percival off and taking a threatening step towards the fuming King, fists tightly clenched and eyes blazing:

“No. I didn’t know. But he just saved all of our lives, and I bet not for the first time.”

Arthur throws up his hands and turns in a short, angry circle before facing Gwaine again, his voice rising with every word:

“With fucking sorcery!!”

Gwaine takes another step forward, stopped only by Percival’s soft hand on his shoulder as he responds in equal anger:

“Who gives a fuck? Gods, Arthur, get your head out of your arse, he’s been by your side for ten years, sacrificed more than we will ever know for you, and you turn on him in a second when he saves your life!-”

He takes another step towards The King, desperately trying to ignore the tears that suddenly slip down his cheeks, leaving tracks in the dust, as he gestures roughly at the mountain behind him and jabs Arthur in the chest:

“-He’s dead, Merlin is dead, because of you! No wonder he didn’t fucking trust you, look what you did!”

Arthur recoils at that, anger melting from his face in a split-second as his wide eyes move from Gwaine’s face to over his shoulder. His shoulders sag and his eyes finally, finally fill with tears as his gaze darts from one boulder to the next. He gulps, slowly stepping around the grieving knight as his hands begin to shake; Leon finally breaks out of his stupor, stepping towards Arthur and putting his own shaking hand on his shoulder:

“There’s nothing you- we could’ve done.”

Arthur shrugs the hand off, moving closer to the debris as his breathing grows deep and he mutters to himself:

“He... can’t be. No, he’s... he might be alive in there, we... I-”

Mordred, his anger finally boiling over, steps in front of Arthur. The King looks down to his youngest knight and takes a stumbled step back at the snarl on his face and the gold in his eyes:

“My Lord has suffered, once more, at your hands. Part of me wonders if Morgause is right, perhaps there’s no hope left for you.-”

He takes a deep breath and steps slightly away from Arthur again, schooling his face into neutrality as he speaks on a monotone voice:

“-Help is on the way, do us all a favour and keep your sword to yourself when they arrive.”

Arthur is frozen in his shock, as are Leon, Elyan, and Percival, but Lancelot just looks mildly disapproving and Gwaine is too busy unclasping his cloak and unbuckling his belt to notice. Arthur turns around again at the clanging sound, only to see Gwaine dropping his cloak and sword at his feet:

“I quit. I thought you were the exception to my belief that all nobles are corrupt, hypocritical, tyrants... I guess I was wrong.-”

With that, he pushes past the distraught, frozen King, to stand in front of Mordred:

“-What do you mean, help is coming?”

Mordred raises an eyebrow but doesn’t answer, instead nodding over Gwaine’s shoulder pointedly. Everyone turns around, only to take in surprised breath at the group of fifty or so golden-eyed Druids making their way through the trees towards them. Mordred and Lancelot push through the others and jog over to meet them, bowing briefly in greeting and ducking their heads to have a whispered conversation. Arthur is still staring at the cave-in blankly, but Leon stops the others from joining them with a firm wave of his hand. The rest of knights were clearly not in the know, and they definitely weren’t in charge; best leave this to the people who actually knew what was going on.

Lancelot nods to the mountain and Mordred gestures to his own collarbone, a look of confusion on his face. A few of the Druids gasp quietly, staring at the mountain in grief, but their leader, a man that Leon recognises as Iseldir, sighs and nods, looking as though he was giving a short explanation before patting Mordred on the shoulder and finally beginning to make his way to the other knights.

Leon walks up to greet him, and Iseldir smiles and clasps his forearm as if they knew each other far better than they did:

“Good to see you again, Sir Leon, though I regret the circumstances.”

Leon sniffles slightly and nods, trying desperately to keep his professional façade up by ignoring his red-rimmed eyes:

“Indeed. Mordred said you were... here to help?”

Iseldir nods and moves towards the cave-in, sending a short glance to the still frozen King, his expression an odd mix of awed and patient an contemptuous, before gesturing the other Druids forward.

They all raise their hands towards the rubble, eyes golden as they chant lowly. The mountain begins to shake again, though it’s clearly a lot more controlled, and the knights can’t feel it even from only a few metres away; nevertheless, Percival and Lancelot still have to grab Gwaine to stop him from pouncing at them in his confused grief.

The knights all hold their breath, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival in confusion, and Mordred and Lancelot in apprehension at what they would see. They know of Merlin’s... abilities. But this... a small part of them prayed that he had died, or that he was at least unconscious. A mountain as a blanket can’t be...comfortable.

After a few more moments the shaking becomes uniform, and boulders slowly begin to extract themselves from the cave entrance, floating through the air serenely and piling up a few metres to the side. The knights all hold their breath as the Druids strain, and Lancelot walks towards the cave with caution. His steps are slow and his hands are held out in front of him, ready to bolt at a moments notice, but he gets to the cliffside just as a narrow walkway through the middle of all the rubble opens up.

He looks back, waiting for Iseldir’s nod of approval before making his way into the darkness. None of the knights follow, despite their desperation to do so, knowing somehow that it wasn’t their place to rescue Merlin. Not this time.

Lancelot is gone for maybe twenty seconds before the others hear his wretched yelp, and it’s barely a few seconds later that he stumbles out of the cave again, pale as a sheet with sweat gathering on his forehead. He quickly staggers to the side, one hand using the wall to hold his weight up and the other resting on his bent knee as he leans over to vomit in the bushes. The knights are frozen in their shock, but tears gather in their eyes once more when Lancelot quickly turns to face Iseldir, wiping a hand sleeve across his mouth haphazardly, ignoring the tear tracks on his cheeks as he speaks desperately, his eyes manic:

“Please, please tell me he died. He... he can’t have lived through... lived through that.”

Iseldir gives him a mournful smile, but before he can say anything, Gwaine makes a dart to the entrance cave. Lancelot quickly steps in his way, digging his heels in and using all his strength to hold the bulkier man back:

“NO! Gwaine, you don’t want to see in there, ok? I swear to you, you will regret it for the rest of your life if you go in there.”

Gwaine pushes against him one last time, but quickly gives up, stumbling back and dropping to his knees with his face in his hands, muffling his cries. Lance’s distraught gaze finds Iseldir again, and the Druid nods:

“His body dies like any other, though we can only pray that it was quick. His resurrection will be incredibly... agonising however; I can appreciate the difficulty in what I’m asking, but might I request you stay at his side as he wakes? Myself and my group have strength in numbers and can hold the passage open for hours if needed, but I imagine he will begin to wake soon.”

Lance nods and moves towards the entrance again. No one mentions his uneasy steps or the way his hands shake. He pauses and looks back briefly at Arthur’s croaking question, but just gives a pointed look to an equally pale Mordred before continuing his journey:

“He’s... he’s still alive?”

Mordred steps in front of The King again, unwilling to let him run anywhere like Gwaine had tried, but it’s Iseldir that cryptically answers:

“No. But he will be.”

The Druid turns back to the cave without another word, re-focusing his magic onto the task at hand.

An odd silence deafens the knights, but if they listen hard enough, they find they can almost hear Lancelot’s gasping deep breaths as he once again lays eyes on... what’s left. Time seems to drag on, the silence getting heavier and heavier, though a long, low groan cracks through the atmosphere like a knife.

Percival lays a comforting but strong hand on Gwaine’s shoulder as everyone tenses, but no one manages to hold in their tears when the low groan gets louder and louder, rising in pitch until it’s an agonized screech.

Leon looks to Iseldir in horror, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he stutters over words he can’t force himself to say; Iseldir looks back at him, and the First Knight sees tears shining in his eyes at his Lord’s pain:

“The vital parts of his body, the skull and brain, the heart, the lungs, the spine, will have repaired themselves first, then he woke up. He will remain conscious whilst the rest of his body stitches itself back together; it is agony like no other.”

The screech halts all of a sudden with a sickening gurgle, the sound distinctly reminding the knights of someone choking on bone and blood. 

Lancelot’s shaking voice echoes down the stone corridor:

“You... you can do this, Merlin. It’s ok, I’m not leaving you. Everything’s.. everything’s going to be ok, you can do this.”

At the horror and grief in his tone, Elyan stumbles forward to kneel behind Gwaine, covering his friend’s ears with his hands and pressing his forehead to the crown of his shaking head. Percival also sits with them, closing his eyes against the tears and attempting to breath slowly. Mordred stands still, but his hands and jaw are clenched tightly as he stares blankly at the grass at his feet, flinching ever so slightly at every groan and scream and cry that emerges from the darkness. Leon takes Arthur’s hand, and though The King doesn’t look at him, the tight way he squeezes his fingers is all the acknowledgement that he was still somewhat present that Leon needed.

The sound of Lancelot hiccupping through his sobs can be heard, but that’s quickly drowned out by sickening cracking sounds and more screaming.

~

Time seems both to drag and to fly by; anywhere from ten seconds to ten hours could’ve passed by the time Merlin stops screaming for good. The knights can’t help but feel selfish for how grateful they are that they didn’t have to watch it; listening to it was enough to give then nightmares for a long long time.

They finally hear a scuffling sound from within the cave and everyone’s eyes comes back into focus as they look up, not bothering to clear their faces of tears as they see Lancelot struggle to walk through the debris, Merlin hanging from his side with his arm over the knight’s shoulder.

Leon is the first to react, darting forward to help the exhausted, blood-soaked knight take Merlin’s weight. Everyone is frozen in horror at way Merlin’s tattered clothes hang off of him, absolutely drenched in blood; not even an inch of fabric has escaped being stained. Leon and Lancelot lay the groaning servant down in the soft grass as the Druids begin filling the tunnel with debris and rubble, wanting to make the structure as stable as possible before they stop holding the mountain up.

The golden-eyed sorcerers step back slowly, untensing when the mountain settles straight away; there must’ve been some sort of old magical trap in the stone, it would be best not to disturb it again if they could help it.

The knights gather around Merlin’s red form, noticing absent-mindedly that it was almost dark, so they must’ve been here for three hours at least. Mordred pushes to the front, his skin pale but his expression blank as he takes a clean rag and some water from his pack (the horses had been left at the entrance to the cave, so they thankfully hadn’t lost any supplies in the disaster). He made quick, but gentle work of cleaning Merlin as best he could, getting the blood off his face and hands and out of his hair. Lancelot pats him on the shoulder with a shaking hand before standing again and stumbling towards Iseldir; the knights barely pay him any attention as he walks off, focused entirely on Merlin’s limp body. No one attempts to touch him, not with the possessive glares Mordred is sending to anyone who gets too close.

The Druid cups Lance’s elbow, his grip surprisingly strong and supportive as Lancelot tries to gather his thoughts and force some sort of sentence out of his mouth. After a few moments, the quiet question eventually comes:

“What now?”

Iseldir smiles at him mournfully, glancing over his shoulder at the gathering of knights before looking back to Lance:

“That is up to The Once and Future King, I suppose. Emrys is exhausted, now that the pain has passed I imagine he’ll be asleep for several days. Look after him until he wakes, won’t you? I have faith that everything will work out in the end, but remember, Emrys, Sir Mordred, Lady Morgana, and yourself always have a place among us, should you want it.”

Lancelot gives him a small smile and steps back, nodding his gratitude at the other Druids before turning around and going back to Merlin, not looking back as they make their way from the clearing and back into the forest. He comes to stand behind Mordred, putting a hand on his shoulder and waiting until the younger man looks up at him before saying:

“It’s almost dark, we need to set up camp. He should have a spare set of clothes in his pack so you and I can take him to the river to wash and change him whilst the others get set up.”

Mordred takes a while to reply, but finally nods. He goes to pick Merlin up, but Gwaine beats him to it, gathering his unconscious form in his arms with more care than the knights have ever seen him exhibit before; Mordred freezes for a second, about to pounce on Gwaine for daring to touch him, but quickly relaxes as he remembers Gwaine’s reaction to... well... everything.

It doesn’t take them long to find a camping spot, Mordred and Lancelot leading the way back into the forest towards the river with Arthur bringing up the rear. Out of tactical necessity or guilt, no one knows, but no one bothers to ask.

Soon enough a fire is roaring and Mordred, Lancelot, and Gwaine have disappeared into the trees with Merlin. Elyan, Percival, and Leon share the occasional worried glance, both at the events of the day and Arthur’s disturbing stillness. It was maybe half a candle-mark after the others went to the river that Arthur cleared his throat and spoke, his voice croaky from tears and disuse:

“How... how long, do you think? How long as he been a sorcerer?”

His gaze stays firmly on the fire, even as the others bristle in slight anger, mistaking his questions for continued animosity. Leon is the first to answer, his tone slow and measured:

“To be that powerful, and to have Druids at his beck and call... a while, I imagine. Sire.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, and it’s Elyan that speaks next, his eyes narrowed and his tone far less regulated that Leon’s:

“Still plan on punishing him then? Trying to figure out how you should execute the man who just went through hours of endless agony to save your life?”

Leon looks to him sharply but doesn’t say anything, surprised by the normally-gentle Percival’s nod of agreement. Arthur looks up quickly as well, though his expression is one of shock and pain:

“What?! No! I wouldn’t.. I don’t... I just meant, how long has he had to hide? You... Gwaine, he was right. He’s probably saved our lives, my life, a dozen times pulling stupid stunts like that,-”

Arthur’s cut off by the others walking back into camp, Mordred giving him a blank stare as he says in a monotone voice:

“More than a dozen, Sire. Many more. He’s saved your life directly and indirectly hundreds of times. And never has he sought any credit. The two of you together are meant to be the saviours of this world, or so the prophecies say.-”

They all stare at him blankly as he sits down by the fire, Lancelot settling Merlin in Gwaine’s lap before covering them both with thick blankets and settling next to them:

“-Though I find myself running low on faith in you, My Lord.”

Arthur gulps, but stays silent, turning back to the fire again as the other knights stare at Mordred in confusion. He just huffs and rolls his eyes when he notices their questioning expressions, looking to Lancelot and frowning when the knight just nods at him knowingly. He sighs again, glancing to Merlin, still protectively wrapped up in blankets and Gwaine, before looking to The King and beginning to explain in a tired voice:

“Druid seers have been having visions of The once and Future King, that’s you,-”

Mordred points at Arthur, waiting for the blonde to look up and acknowledge the conversation before dropping his hand and continuing:

“-and Lord Emrys, that’s Merlin, uniting all of Albion under your shared rule, ushering in a Golden Age where the magic and the non-magic are once again in balance. Merlin was made aware of his role in these... fates, when he first arrived in Camelot. I also have a role, as do a few others, though no one else is aware of the... specifics.”

Arthur nods slowly, glancing worriedly to Merlin and Gwaine (who is paying absolutely no attention to the conversation, focused only on stroking Merlin’s hair and periodically checking his pulse) before looking into the fire again:

“The magic and non-magic in... balance?”

Mordred nods, the crease between his eyebrows growing slightly deeper as he slowly responds:

“Hmm. Magic is natural and necessary for the universe to function. You though the Gods wouldn’t intervene when your father started culling it?-”

Arthur blinked and sat up straight in his shock, but otherwise didn’t kick off, which Mordred was taking as a good sign, and continued:

“Magic is not evil, nor is it good. It just... is. Merlin is immortal, some say blessed, I say cursed, to be stuck on this earth, forever alone, until balance is achieved. How long, Arthur, are you willing to force him to wait?”

The knights all hold their breath in suspense, staring at Arthur who in turn is back to staring at Merlin. He gulps, blinks a few times, and shakes his head, before looking to Leon:

“How quickly can we make it back to Camelot?”

Elyan scoffs and Percival frowns, looking to the floor, the two of them obviously thinking that Arthur was dealing with this the same way he deals with his emotions: by ignoring it entirely until it became someone else’s problem (usually Merlin’s). Lancelot and Mordred just stare at him blankly, and Leon tilts his head in question before answering:

“About... five days? If we ride fast and don’t detour to the village like we said we would.”

Arthur nods, takin a deep breath as he stares into the fire again:

“Five days, I’ll make him wait five days. We can send a patrol back to the village when we get home, we’ll be too busy planning a... Golden Age, apparently.”

Elyan and Percival look up in wonder, Lancelot and Leon smile proudly, Mordred nods and grins, and Gwaine... well... Gwaine snores. 

Merlin shuffles in his sleep, his look of pain morphing to a gentle smile as he curls into his knight’s chest, his soul, for the first time in a long time, finding peace.

~

THE END!!!

I think the ending might’ve been a little anti-climactic, but I’ve written so many magic reveals and “magic isn’t evil it just is” speeches that... I didn’t really know how to make it interesting or different😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!! It took me way longer than I’d hoped to get it finished because I’ve been so busy with work, but I’m relieved I finally got it done :D

My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peaks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!

#bbc merlin #merlin #merwaine #good mordred #good morgana #arthur is a bit of a dick #iseldir #iseldir saves the day #leon #sir leon #sir lancelot #lancelot #protective lancelot #gwaine #sir gwaine #protective gwaine #gwaine/merlin #morgana #mordred #sir mordred #percival #sir percival #elyan #sir elyan #protective knights #gaius #druids #emrys #immortal merlin #merlin dies

[storiesforallfandoms]

survivor ~ captain jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 2090

request?: yes!

“Hello, I have an idea for a story with Jack Sparrow so I thought I'd request, one where Jack rescues the reader from a sunken ship at the ocean, where she was apparently the only survivor. At first, she's very reserved and cautious around him, but as they get to know each other and she's more comfortable with him, Jack sees himself falling hard for her, he has quite a lot of trouble dealing with/confessing his feelings but in the end, they get together. Thanks :D”

description: in which he saves the only survivor of a sunken ship and helps her to open up to his crew

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, ptsd, and survivor’s guilt

masterlist (one, two)

The sight of the broken ship was haunting to the usually chipper crew of the Black Pearl. They had heard the explosion before seeing the wreckage, but hoped they were wrong in thinking it was a shipwreck.

Jack watched from the wheel, trying to keep a straight face as his eyes searched the water for signs of bodies. If they could save at least one person, just one, he would call it a victory.

“Call if you see anything,” he announced to his crew. “Anything we could salvage.”

But the further they travelled into the wreckage, the more evident it became that they weren’t going to find anything - or anyone.

Jack sighed, an ache in his heart for his fellow pirates who had likely died in the shipwreck. His eyes lingered on the water a moment longer before he started to turn away from the wreckage.

“Jack!” Elizabeth exclaimed as the boat began to turn. “There’s a girl in the water!”

They pulled the floating body out of the water. Her skin was stone cold and was nearly translucent it was so pale. Jack knelt down next to her and lowered his ear to her mouth. He couldn’t hear her breathing, and her chest wasn’t moving to signify there was any life left in her body. He started pushing on her chest, breathing into her mouth and nose between the pressing against her chest.

“She’s gone Jack,” Will said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s take her somewhere to gibe her a proper burial.”

Jack sighed. He didn’t want to give up, but there seemed like no hope in his attempts. As he sat back on his knees, the girl suddenly spit up whatever water was in her lungs and started coughing as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get her something to warm her, and some dry clothes!” Jack told two of his crew members. He regarded the panicking girl with a gentle touch, pulling her attention to him. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting between the crew members in fear before they rested on Jack. “You’re alright, you’re safe now. We’ll take care of you.”

~~~~~~

Their new passenger, unsurprisingly, kept to herself for a while after she was saved. They kept her above deck for the rest of the day in order to make sure she was okay, but once the night came, Jack insisted she have her own space so she didn’t feel smothered with everyone else’s presence.

The first night was hard. She woke up screaming from nightmares of the crash, waking everyone else on the ship with her. She refused to talk to anyone who came to comfort her, and even physically pushed them away. After that, she was left alone by everyone.

Except for Jack.

Jack would visit her regularly to bring her food, clothes, and other supplies. He would ask her how she was, ask about her past and the ship she had been travelling on. His attempts were null as she never responded, but he didn’t stop trying.

Eventually, he did get her to speak her first sentence, “My name is (Y/N).”

The more he went to her, the more (Y/N) began to open up to him. It was a slow start, and even when he could get her to start talking she didn’t discuss much about herself, but soon enough she would be excitedly waiting for Jack’s daily visit, and eventually she even started to go to him to see him.

On one day, (Y/N) was waiting in Jack’s cabin for him to return from an adventure he had gone on. She was starting to look much better than the day she had been saved from the wreckage, and even before that. Jack and his crew hadn’t seen what she was before, but if they had they definitely would’ve been happy with her progress, no matter how slow it was.

She jumped when the door to Jack’s cabin opened violently and the captain stumbled in. His clothes were torn and he was bloody on his arms and his face. He was obviously hurt, but the way he sauntered over to his desk could’ve fooled anyone.

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked, standing from Jack’s bed to approach him.

“We walked right into their trap,” Jack responded, opening his desk and pulling a bottle of rum from it. “We weren’t ready for it.”

“Is everyone else...” (Y/N) trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“We didn’t lose anyone,” Jack finished, knowing where she was going. “Just some injuries. They’re all being taken care of.”

He collapsed onto his chair, groaning as pain coursed through him. (Y/N) approached him and took the bottle from his hand. She retrieved the bandages from the bottom drawer in his desk and started to treat the wound on his face. Through the winces of pain, he smiled up at her.

“You know your way through my desk pretty well,” he teased.

When she smiled back at him, it was as if the entire room brightened. “I’ve watched you enough times to know where your medical supplies are, and to know that you do not know how to properly clean and dress a wound.”

“I try not to waste the rum.”

(Y/N) gave him a playful look before pouring some more of the rum over his wound. He winced and sucked in a painful breath as she dabbed the blood with a cloth before applying a bandage to it. She reached for his tattered shirt to take it off, but she hesitated a moment. Jack looked up at her, seeing that she was trying to avoid looking at him, and took off his shirt for her.

She began to clean the wounds on his chest, which luckily weren’t deep. Jack watched her as she worked, noticing a bit of strain in her face. He had seen that look many times before, usually on other pirates that had seen too much in their lifetime. He had seen it on his own father and uncle’s faces before both of them left him to his own devices.

“You’ve done this before,” he noted, although he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

(Y/N) looked up at him, her eyes wide like they had been when she was first saved. Jack regretted speaking and was about to take back his words when (Y/N) spoke.

“I was the medic on the ship you saved me from,” she said. “Whenever the crew members were hurt, I would help them.”

It was the first time she had told anyone anything about her past, especially about the ship she used to be a part of. She could feel a lump growing in her throat as she remembered the men that she had once considered a family that she would never see again.

“How long were you travelling with them?” Jack asked.

She was absentmindedly wiping his chest now, the blood already cleaned from his wounds. “Since I was a young girl. I was the daughter of their former captain. When he got too old, he resigned to life on land, but I wanted to keep travelling. I was never very strong, nor fast, so actually being a pirate was out of the question. I was eventually taught how to care for their wounds and for their sick so I could stay on board as a medic.”

As she took the bandages to wrap up Jack’s wounds, flashes of the many men she had patched up flashed before her eyes. The familiar faces and familiar smiles that she still dreamed of every night, that eventually turned to nightmares.

She looked away from Jack as tears started falling down her eyes. Jack reached up to wipe a tear with his thumb, cradling her face gently.

“They didn’t deserve to die,” she said, shaking her head. “They were good men. They weren’t violent pirates, they didn’t rob or kill anyone innocent. They took from bad people, they helped those in need. They were the most selfless men I had ever met.”

“What happened the day of the shipwreck?”

(Y/N)’s face twisted with grief as she remembered that fateful day. It was something that would always be in her memory, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We thought it was just us for miles. I was below deck when the first cannonball hit the boat. I came up to try and help the best I could, but the next one hit so close to us that we became dazed. The next one...”

She trailed off, wincing at the memory of the loud explosion. When it had hit the boat, she was thrown into the water. Her men were around her, struggling to get free from the remaining intact parts of the ship. There was another explosion and everything went black. (Y/N) was so sure she was dead. Part of her wished the explosion had killed her, too.

“Probably one of the bad people that was ticked off,” Jack said, his voice soft and gentle. His wounds were dressed, but he made no effort to move to put his shirt back on. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

“I still have dreams about them,” (Y/N) told him. “About my crew, and about that day. I sometimes with I were one of the ones who went down with them. I wish I could’ve saved someone else besides me, or that I had joined them.”

Jack stood so that he was at eye level with her. (Y/N) couldn’t look up at him, but he gently tilted her head back so that she was.

“I’m glad we were able to save you,” he told her. “Even if this is the first time I’ve come to learn something about you, having you on this ship has made everything so much brighter. Our little visits and small conversations have made me so happy. I understand that feeling of guilt when you lose part of your crew and you couldn’t do anything to save them, although I can’t imagine the level of pain you are going through right now. But I’m glad you’re here.”

His words made her truly happy for the first time in weeks.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. Jack brushed (Y/N)’s hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. He left a tingly feeling on the parts of her face that he touched. (Y/N) had never felt that before, and it made her stomach fill with butterflies and her heart flip with excitement.

Before they could stop themselves, Jack leaned in for a kiss and (Y/N) met him half way. He placed one of his hands on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Her body pressed against his in a way that almost made him fall backwards into the chair again.

Jack finally pulled away first, gazing down into her eyes again. “Was that too much?”

(Y/N) giggled. “No. I really enjoyed it actually.”

“Me too,” Jack admitted. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“I would have thought a self proclaimed ladies man like you would’ve just taken the opportunity to kiss me long ago.”

Jack chuckled at this. “I may be a ladies man, but I am still respectful. You were grieving, I wasn’t going to take advantage of that.”

(Y/N) smiled at him. She pulled out of his embrace and passed him a shirt that was completely intact. “I appreciate all you have done for me, Jack. If you will have me, I would love to stay on the ship and be your medic.”

Jack smiled at her as he slipped the shirt on. “I was planning on asking you to stay regardless of what role you would play. Although, if you would like, I could also offer you a second role while you stay here.”

“And what role would that be?”

Jack kissed her lips again. “I wonder.”

(Y/N) was beaming as she looked up at him. “I would love to stay here with you Jack. I want nothing more than to travel the world with you, or to even be wherever you are.”

“Then it is decided,” he said. “You will stay with me forever.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Forever.”

#captain jack sparrow #jack sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader #johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x imagine #pirates of the caribbean #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[dr3amofagame]

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting 

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere scenario #commission #writing commission #yandere commission #boku no hero acadamia imagines #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #mha imagines #yandere mha #yandere keigo #takami keigo x reader #yandere hawks #hawks x reader #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[rhys-daarling]

Gwynriel- Bandaging his wounds

As Azriel walked into the training room, he was shocked to see Gwyn standing at the window. Her head snapped to him.

Her eyes widened as they took him in, her mouth parting.

He cursed himself. He did not want anyone to see him. Especially like this.

“What- what happened. How-“ she took a step towards him, and his shadows danced out to meet her.

His mission today had been... violent. His wounds still healing, his skin so sensitive he had foregon a shirt.

Gwyn swallowed.

“It’s fine.” A whisper, and he watched her mark every wound on his skin.

“I can help-” she took another step forward.

“I’ll be fine by myself- it’ll be healed by morning” a clear lie, and he winced as he lifted his arm.

“That’s not- you aren’t okay- what, how did this.. ?” Her words were fumbling as she came to stand in front of him.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me” his shadows swirled, and Azriel shifted under the attention of her bright eyes.

“Stop being stubborn. Let me bandage them up” he shook his head, unused to all the fussing.

As if the house was listening, a hamper of bandages and ointment appeared.

“See! Even the house thinks you need help” she grinned in victory. Azriel looked at her, seeing the stubbornness in her eyes.

He nodded his head, resigned. She smiled smugly.

He squinted at her.

“Only because the house will lock me out if I refuse”

“Whatever you say” she rolled her eyes, grinning. She grabbed a cloth and bowl of water, coming to stand right in front of him, nodding her head in the direction of the settee.

He stared blankly back. A silent challenge, to see who would fold first. He was being stubborn on principle, he knew.

She rolled her eyes.

“You have to sit. You’re too tall and I can’t reach” she shook her head slightly, finding his antics amusing.

“Liar”

She scoffed “ excuse me”

“I trained you” he gave her a pointed stare. “You have better balance than almost anyone. You can tiptoe just fine”

“You’re too big for me” he smiled at the blush that formed in her cheeks, he raised his eyebrows.

“You are too TALL for me” she amended. Azriel noted the way she scanned the breadth of his shoulders, her blush deeping. He smiled wider.

“I can’t tiptoe and hold a bowl and treat you. So sit” she grabbed his arms then. Her hand barely wrapping around the front of the bicep.

Azriel tensed his muscles slightly. Liking the way her pale hand contrasted his skin, how warm the point where they touched felt.

He was awarded by her intake of breath.

Gwyn swallowed once and pushed him backwards, he relented, letting himself be moved.

Sitting down, he stared up at her as she stood in front of his widened legs.

She leaned in close, his shadows dancing out to meet her.

“Tell your shadows to stop distracting me” she laughed.

“They’re stubborn and won’t listen. Like someone else I know” a pointed glance at her. She squinted at him, but did not halt her movements.

Azriel closed his eyes as she bought the cloth to him, her other hand coming to rest gently on his shoulder. The movement soothing, and he lamented reluctantly, felt good.

“What happened” her gaze stayed on the cloth, but Azriel looked at her.

“Nothing to worry about. Nothing that requires all this fuss”

“You deserve to be fussed over. And this isn’t nothing”

She sat beside him, and began to clean and wipe the cuts and bruises on his side.

“Just a mission that went a bit wrong” he said bitterly, angry at himself. “It’s my fault”

She scoffed and shook her head

“Is something wrong?” He bristled, hating seeing her mood change from the laughter mere moments ago

She bit her lip, and tensed her jaw, but said nothing. Angry, Az realised. She was angry.

The air had shifted, tense, around them as she continued to wipe his chest.

A shadow danced out to her, dancing and wrapping around her until the corner of Gwyn’s mouth lifted.

“I think it’s ridiculous. I think you’re ridiculous. I think you set these ridiculous standards for yourself, and you almost kill yourself in the process trying to reach them”

Azriel looked at her, shocked at how much of him she had observed.

“You don’t even realise.” She carried on, but stood up “How-how much everything you do means to everyone. How much you mean to everyone”

“That’s not..” Azriel fumbled. Looking down to Gwyn’s hand on his chest, above his heart.

“You seem to think no one would care. That you’re dispensable, and that it’s okay if you die. It’s not”

Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving as she spoke, they were so close, their lips inches apart.

Azriel stood slowly, his wings coming out slightly, wrapping slightly around Gwyn’s shaking form.

“ You saved me.” Her hand still on his chest, she refused to meet his gaze. “That day, you saved me, and if you hadn’t.” She swallowed, slowly raising her chin to meet his gaze.

“You matter, Azriel. And not just then. Here in this room” she gestured around. “You help us all”

They stared at each other, Azriel, unable to to form a sentence, his mind reeling at her words. His wings still wrapped slightly around them, they both seemed content to stand there.

“So” she broke the spell at last, turning slightly to grab a salve from the basket.

“Next time you do something dangerous and reckless and almost kill yourself”

With gentle filters, she applied the salve to the cut on his chest, Azriel followed the movement with his eyes.

“Try to remember that you’re not dispensable. And at the very least, let someone bandage you up” she finshed with the salve, and grabbed a bandage, wrapping it across his chest.

“ It’s a deal” Azriel whispered into the strip of space between them, Gwyn’s head looking up to him

“The next time I almost accidentally almost kill myself” he gave a small smile, to which Gwyn returned

“ I’ll come to you, and let you bandage me up”

“Without being so stubborn” she quipped, raising an eyebrow

Azriel gave a small laugh and nodded

“Without being so stubborn” he agreed.

“Deal” she said, dropping her hand from his chest at last and turning to walk away.

“Gwyn” Azriel called out, she turned to him. “ thank you, for the fussing”

“Get used to it” she said softy, eyes bright and warm, and turned once more to leave.

Azriel watched her go, as one of his shadows trailed after her, assured when it informed him she’d reached her room.

He looked down at his chest, remembering how warm she had felt, how insistent she had been at making sure he was okay.

Odd as it may seem, Azriel kind of hoped he’d injure himself again soon.

#acotar #acosf #ACOMAF #gwynriel #Gwyn #Azriel #feyre #Rhys #feysand #Cassian #Nesta #nessian #injured #hurt/comfort #gwynriel headcanons

[uvobreakmylegs]

Importunity

a lot of people wanted a Shalnark fic so here ya go~

💕Happy Valentine’s Day💕

Warnings: kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death, threats of violence

You'd gotten out.

Your brain was a little too high on the adrenaline of a successful escape for you to think over how exactly you had managed it, but you'd gotten out. The months of living with the man named Shalnark had been slowly wearing you down, exhausting you and at times you considered giving in to him. To 'let him love you', as he put it. Things would've been easier if you could just resign yourself to him and try to live that sweet lie that this relationship was normal and also one that you were still willingly part of.

But resilience held strong, and after many, many attempts at escape, you finally managed to make it to the outside while he was away.

Of course, you were only done with the first part of this plan.

For the second half, you needed to get out of the area before Shalnark came back. And so you were speed-walking through the busy streets of the city, keeping your head down for fear of Shalnark coming back and spotting you. You had never gotten this far before; if he caught you, whatever punishment you would receive for this attempt would be much worse than what he'd done to you previously. And whatever he did to you, he would have that same sickeningly-sweet smile on his face the entire time.

How could a person look so cheerful while they hurt someone else?

At one point you did like Shalnark. You would have gone as far as to say that you loved him. He was nice, if a little bit odd, but after your bad breakup with your ex, Shalnark felt like a breath of fresh air. He was happy to give you attention and eager to go out with you. When the two of you were together, his focus was 100% on you. And the sex was actually good. Shalnark was everything your ex wasn't, and you were happy that you had met such a man.

But after a little while of dating, once the exhilarating feeling of entering a new relationship had died down, red flags started popping up. Like how obsessive Shalnark was when it came to you. How he'd regularly go through your phone to delete contacts of yours, or how he had downloaded weird apps to your phone and computer so he could “keep an eye on you”. The phone made a little bit of sense, maybe, but the computer? You'd questioned him and tried to get him to uninstall those apps off your devices, but he refused.

“Shalnark, do you not trust me?”

At the time, you assumed that this behavior came from a fear that you would cheat on him, and that hurt you more than you had anticipated.

He sensed that as well, as it was one of the few times his cheerful expression vanished, watching you as tears began to well up in your eyes at the thought that he believed you to be a cheater.

Shalnark grabbed you then, holding you against his chest.

“It isn't that at all,” he assured you, stroking your hair.

“I really do want to make sure that you're safe. This is all just in case of a worst-case scenario. If something bad happens and I need to find you immediately.”

He pulled away from you slightly, cupping your face with both hands as he smiled at you again.

“So don't cry, okay?”

“.... What are you worried about exactly?” you asked.

“Lots of things.”

He didn't give you any answers beyond that.

You tried overlooking it. Tried to keep your mind on the positives, but more red flags kept popping up. How he would leave for long periods of time with no explanation, how when he came back, he was sometimes covered in cuts and bruises, and how he would always brush away your concerns and cheerfully refuse to tell you anything. Whenever he was back, he wouldn't let you be around any of your friends, insisting on taking up every second of free time that you had. But when it came to his private life he was willing to drop everything and leave you without explanation.

You felt like you were being used. And you reached your breaking point when he had tried to insist that you not spend any time with your friends when he was out of town.

“I can't do this anymore,” you said, head in your hands as the two of you stood in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to break up.”

Seconds passed by, and Shalnark said nothing. When you moved your hands aside to look at him, he was still smiling at you.

“I see,” he said.

He didn't sound angry, and for a second you wondered if he had been treating you badly to make you break up with him.

Without another word, he pulled out a strange looking needle.

You didn't remember anything after that.

All you knew was when you awoke next, you were in a completely different room in a completely different apartment with Shalnark standing over you.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” he said to you, “it seems I pushed you a little too hard. But that's all right. We can start over now.”

You were at a loss for words for a few moments as you struggled to understand the situation.

“Start over?” you finally asked.

“Yep.”

“Shalnark, no. I broke up with you.”

“I don't care. I'm keeping you here,” he answered.

“No. I-I don't want to be here,” you said, shaking your head.

“Please Shalnark. Let me go home.”

He grinned, sitting down on the bed with you and grabbing you when you tried to pull away, leaning in until your foreheads were touching.

“Not a chance,” he whispered.

From there the nightmare worsened. You couldn't leave the apartment, and any time you tried, he would catch you and hurt you. Every time, he told you that he didn't want to do it. That it was your fault because you kept misbehaving.

“Things would be easier if you stopped lying to yourself. I know you still have feelings for me.”

You refused to think about that fact. Even though the way he had been treating you before the kidnapping had hurt you, part of you did still care about him. One part of your stupid brain still cared about this incredibly callous man even after everything he had done had you wanting to give in, and you hated yourself for it. It had to have been an act, right? The way he had been when you first met, and how he claimed that he loved you. There was no way he was capable of it. He just wanted to hurt you for his own sick pleasure, and you vowed to never give in to him. You would get away from him and tell the whole world just how much of a sick fuck he was.

You told him that. In the heat of the moment, you had said it right to his face.

He just smiled, and you blacked out again.

The next morning you had awoken to your whole body aching; your muscles were sore and you could barely move your arms and legs. When you stumbled into the bathroom to inspect yourself you found that there were also several cuts and bruises over your entire body.

“Something the matter?”

Shalnark was standing in the doorway, looking pleased with himself as he looked you over.

“.... Shalnark, what did you do?”

He ignored the question, giving you a closed-eyed smile and asking if you wanted breakfast.

You shook those thoughts from your head. Right now, you needed to concentrate on getting away. Once you were safe and had made certain that Shalnark wouldn't be able to touch you again, you'd find a therapist who could help you deal with your trauma and hopefully then you'd be able to go back to being a regular member of society. But right now, you needed to leave before Shalnark came back from his errand and found you missing.

You followed signs pointing in the direction of the subway, which was most likely the fastest way out and the only form of fast transportation that you could really afford, as the meager pile of change you had managed to collect behind his back was all that you had in terms of cash. Just enough to get you to a station on the outskirts of the city and then you'd figure it out from there. You just needed to get as much distance from him as you possibly could.

The streets were fairly crowded, and you needed to dip and weave your way through several groups of people that were walking far too slow and hindering your escape. You'd bumped into a few people, all of who were asking what your problem was as you hurried away. With all of the time that had passed since you were taken, you were certain that you'd been listed as a missing person, but being recognized as that right now wouldn't do you any good.

You spotted the steps that lead down to the underground subway, and against your better judgment, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you cut through the crowded street to make it down those steps. Things could still go wrong. You knew that. But you were so close and if you could just get onto that train you'd finally be able to get help.

When you were just a few feet away from the top step, a hand grabbed you by the upper arm.

Your mind instantly told you that it was Shalnark, but when you looked to your side, you found an older man with graying hair holding you in place. You didn't recognize him, but he was yelling at you in a language you didn't understand. What you did to earn this reaction, you weren't sure, but it was costing you time and drawing attention as people around you turned to look at the commotion.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying,” you said, trying to pull your arm away from him. Instead his grip became tighter and he grew red in the face, virtually screaming at you.

You didn't need this. And you needed to go now.

“Please let me go,” you tried, but it got you nowhere. The old man was still screaming and the crowd around you had stepped back, creating a circle around the two of you. There were murmurings all around you that slowly grew louder, and at one point you swore you heard someone say your name, but all you could really focus on was the old man and the way your heart was beating in your ears as your panic grew at a rapid pace. This was already a scene and with how unstable the man was acting, it could easily become violent.

You were scared. Scared that this man would hurt you, but more so you were scared that Shalnark would somehow manage to catch wind of this and track you down.

No one helped you as you tried to pull away again, the old man responding by jerking your arm harder, making you cry out. Why was no one helping you?

You kicked him in the groin. Hard.

The old man's screaming finally stopped as he stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on you.

You sprinted away, pushing past the people who had gathered in front of the subway stairs.

Someone grabbed you by the wrist, and you were spun around as you yanked your hand back.

You didn't actually see how close you were to the top step, but the momentum of pulling your wrist away sent you flying back.

You were aware of how your heel slipped over the edge of the top step.

And then you were falling.

Down into the darkened space of the subway station, and away from the crowd of people that stared at you, making no move to stop your fall.

Why was no one helping?

Your head hit the bottom of the stairs.

You probably hit a few other places on your body before you reached the bottom, but it was impossible to tell once you'd hit your head. You were too disoriented to tell what else was hurting; you could only focus on the pain in the back of your skull.

God, it hurt.

The world around you began to blur and you could only make out shapes and colors. At a certain point everything began spinning and you needed to close your eyes to keep from throwing up. You threw up anyway. At least, you thought you did. Trying to move was a mistake, and you were forced to keep still while you heard people talking around you. Hands that were grabbing you, hoisting you up at one point.

When you heard sirens you cracked your eyes open slightly and you were immediately punished by bright white lights above you that forced you to shut your eyes again.

A hand grabbed your face and pulled it to the side, making the pain in your skull shoot through you. Someone was prodding at spot where your head had hit the ground, brushing your hair aside to look at the injury. They weren't being gentle, either.

You were pretty sure you threw up again.

Time passed in bits and pieces.

A lot of talking, though you couldn't make out what was said.

A lot of faces you didn't recognize, looking down at you. They didn't seem happy, and you wondered why.

A lot of different machines, that you were either put into or were placed around you. Needles, tubes and fresh white sheets.

You tried talking a few times. You weren't always sure if there was anyone around when you did, but you always tried when you felt like you had the strength.

It'd be nice to know why you couldn't smell anything.

If you were able to get out any coherent sentences, no one ever answered you.

A sterile white ceiling greeted you when you opened your eyes next. There were noises, too. A dull chatter of voices from beyond the room and a constant beeping that sounded from the machines next to you. The amount of time it took you to realize that the plain white room was a hospital room was embarrassing, really. It should have been the medical equipment that tipped you off, but it was only when you got a look at the plastic barriers around the bed that you were able to deduce where you were.

Your head was still aching. How far had you fallen? Would there be permanent damage? In your haziness you managed to remember that most hospital rooms had a button to call for a nurse. Best to find that and try to get some answers.

But when you tried moving your arm, you found that your wrist was stuck on something.

Looking down, you saw that your wrists and ankles had been strapped to the bed and you were barely able to move them a few inches.

They only strapped people down when they were acting violent, right? Why would they do this to you? You couldn't remember a lot, so maybe you had acted out at one point before you got here? What other reason would they have to tie you down?

Shalnark.

In the midst of your confusion over your current situation, you remembered the man you were trying to get away from. The fact that you were in a situation where you were tied down and completely vulnerable sent a rush of adrenaline through you and you struggled at your restraints. He'd be coming for you, and you did not want to still be here once he found this hospital.

One of the machines next to you began to beep rapidly, signifying your increased heart rate and echoing in the small room.

You hadn't made any progress on freeing yourself when the door burst open, a woman in a white nurse's dress standing in the doorway. She took only a second to assess the situation before she came at you with a needle in hand.

“Please, I can't stay here. He'll find me!” you begged her.

She didn't acknowledge you and only held one of your arms as she injected whatever substance was in the needle into your veins. Whatever it was, it worked fast as you felt yourself beginning to drift back off into sleep.

“He'll hurt me,” you whispered.

The nurse above you scoffed.

“If only.”

Days passed by, and you felt like you were getting better. Not completely better, but your bouts of slipping back into unconsciousness seemed to stop after a point, and the ache in your skull had dulled a bit.

The treatment from the few that were around you didn't get any better. As you slowly recovered from your fall, you were able to see the way in which the nurses regarded you: disgust, mostly, and a fair amount of resentment whenever they needed to come in to take care of you. The one you saw most often was the nurse you had seen when you had first woken up. She was an older woman, and refused to give you any painkillers.

“I knew Regina's mother,” she hissed at you one morning, “what you did to those people was monstrous.”

“.... Who's Regina?”

Your question had earned you a harsh slap to the face, and your evening meal that day came later than usual and tasted worse than the regular hospital meal.

Detectives came in sometimes. Strangely enough they would ask you questions about your relationship with your ex and the last time you had seen him, but they left pretty fast whenever you tried bringing up the fact that you'd been kidnapped. You would only ever get as far as telling them Shalnark's name before they were heading back out the door.

“We'll get the truth when you're well enough to be brought in to the station,” they had said on their last visit.

Based off how you had been doing, it probably wouldn't be long before you were moved to a more secure location.

With no tv or books to occupy your time and the fact that you remained with your hands and legs tied down, there was little else you could do during your time in that room besides think. No one was telling you anything, and you were left to try and figure things out on your own. You had been blamed for something, that was certain, and based off of the reactions of those around you and the fact that you had seen various cops sitting outside your door whenever a nurse came in, it was something serious.

It was Shalnark's doing. It had to have been. Had he framed you for a crime?

Those blackouts you would occasionally have came to mind, along with that morning you had awoken to your entire body feeling sore and overworked. It had been reasonable to suspect that he had done something to you during those times, but you had assumed he was fucking you in your sleep or something. It had never occurred to you that he was using you to do something more.

But aside from that, it was strange he was taking so long to come and get you.

Moving fast was the only way you potentially had any chance of getting away from him, and for you to have not seen him once since your very public apprehending didn't feel right. Once he had figured out where you were, surely he would have been fast in taking you back. It would have been easier than ever if he had come immediately after your fall. The fact that you had remained her for so long could only mean that he was planning something.

You remembered the detectives' words, on how they would be moving you to the police station once you got better. If Shalnark wasn't planning on coming into the hospital to get you, was he waiting for your relocation in order to make his move?

You needed to get out of the hospital before it came to that, you decided.

A frenzied escape attempt with no thought put into it was bound to get you caught. You had learned that much during your time trapped with Shalnark. You needed to keep calm and not draw any attention to yourself. If you freaked out too much and made too much noise, that nurse would come back in, inject you with those drugs and you would lose valuable hours that you needed to get away.

Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, you wiggled the wrist of your dominant hand around in an attempt to get it out of the restraint. Though the straps were made of fabric, it was a stiffer material, and after a fair amount of wiggling, the skin around your wrist was raw and bloody as you tried to loosen it while making your hand as small as possible.

Somehow, after hours of pulling as hard as you could, you finally freed your hand, gasping out a sigh of relief as you took a moment to rest. Luckily, no one had come to check on you yet, but it would be impossible to hide the fact that your hand was no longer tied down if they came too close. At least the remaining restraints were easier to get off, but now you were faced with your next problem: getting out of the room.

It was getting close to evening, around the time when someone would come in to feed you. Whoever came in always came with the sedatives, but you had noticed that most of the staff had been growing somewhat lax during your time here, and you would use that to your advantage.

When the next nurse came in, you were back in your usual spot on the bed, having arranged the sheets in a way so she couldn't see that you weren't tied down. She was a younger, quieter woman who avoided looking at you if she could. And as expected, a needle full of sedatives were on the tray she brought in with your meal.

When she set the tray down, you told her “someone slipped something under the door earlier.”

“What?”

You motioned with your head.

“Earlier, somebody slipped something under the door. I'm not sure what it was, but it looked like paper?”

“I don't see anything.”

“I think it went flying when you opened the door,” you explained.

She sighed, turning away from you to look at the area around the door. When she began to walk forward, you jumped off the bed as quietly as you could and reached for the needle.

“I still don't see anythi-”

Your hand covered her mouth as you stuck the needle into her neck, pushing its contents into her. She struggled briefly and went as far as to bite your hand, but within moments she was out, falling out of your grasp and onto the floor.

You felt terrible as you dragged the nurse across the floor and hid her behind the bed. There was no way you had the strength to lift her up and place her in the bed; you hadn't moved for weeks now and your muscles felt strained just from dragging her. Her neck was bleeding a bit, and you sincerely hoped you had just knocked her out and hadn't managed to do anything that would damage her permanently. If only it had been the nurse who had slapped you that you had come across, then at least you wouldn't have felt as bad.

You felt even worse when you forced yourself to remove her clothing. She was a bit wider than you were and her clothes didn't fit all that well, but it would hopefully work as a disguise so you could get out of the building. At least the long-sleeved sweater she had been wearing would cover the wound around your wrist. In an effort to give her some sort of apology, you placed a blanket over her.

“Everything all right in there?” a voice from outside suddenly called.

…. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You'd forgotten about the officer outside the room.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” you answered, trying to imitate the nurse's voice as best you could.

“Okay,” was the answer. You didn't think that you sounded much like her, but evidently it was good enough.

“Do you mind waiting in there for a little bit?” the officer asked through the door, “I need to use the restroom.”

“Y-yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

At least there was a little bit of luck on your side, it seemed. You couldn't believe that you'd managed to forget that there was someone on the outside watching over you, but that problem seemed to have taken care of itself. Best not to try and rely on getting so lucky every time, though.

After a few moments, you peeked your head outside the door, and when you found the coast to be clear, you began to hurry down the hallway.

There weren't many people in the halls, and the ones that were there didn't seem to notice you in your slightly over-sized clothes and shoes. Still, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could, not willing to risk someone recognizing you again. A staff-only stairway caught your attention, and you pushed on the heavy door and entered the dimly-lit stairwell.

You traveled down several flights of stairs to get to the ground floor. It would probably be a bad idea to try to leave through the front entrance. Finding some kind of side or back door would be best; something like that shouldn't be too hard to find.

A directory caught your attention, and you noted the arrow that pointed the way to a loading bay. It wouldn't be an area that would be open to visitors or regular patients, but there was the chance that hospital workers could be in there. But you didn't know how much time you had left before that nurse was discovered and you were found to be missing, and you didn't want to waste time wandering the halls trying to find an exit. Right now you needed to hope you would just be lucky.

Your luck held as you made it to the loading bay, as the others roaming the hospital halls were too absorbed in their own tasks to pay attention to you. And to your delight, no one was in the loading area either. This was perfect. Just a few more steps and you'd be free. You stumbled a bit down the steps of the platform before you decided to cast off the ill-fitting shoes. It was dumb to run around a city barefoot, but hopefully you could find a change of clothes somewhere and get rid of the whole nurse getup completely.

The cement was cold against your feet as you ran across it. You'd be out of here and then you could focus on getting out of this goddamned city.

As you came up to a pillar, a figure jumped out in front of you. You were too slow to react, and you ran right into it.

“Found you~”

It was a voice that you knew well, and you found that you recognized the shirt that your face was currently pressed up against. Not a lot of men wore purple pastel.

Shalnark was beaming down at you as he wrapped his arms around your back and kept you pressed against him.

“I missed you so much!” he continued, “Really, words can't describe how miserable I was without you around.”

“L-let me go!” you cried, trying to get out of his grasp. He only pulled you in closer.

“But we just found each other again. How could I let you go after we've been apart for so long?” Shalnark said.

You continued to struggle, trying to slip out of his arms that held you in whatever way you could. Shalnark seemed content to watch you writhe in his grasp, but he seemed to tire of it as he let out a quiet sigh and released you. You immediately pushed off from him and ran back to the stairs.

“Who's going to help you in there?”

You had only reached the foot of the stairs when he asked that, and you stopped in your tracks. He had a point. Everyone hated you, to put it lightly. It was unlikely that anyone would come to help you even if you begged them to. Turning back to Shalnark, you found him holding his phone out. He had pulled something up on the screen but it was too far away for you to read.

“Don't you want to know what's going on?” he asked, “come back over and you can find out.”

You shook your head.

“Oh? I thought you would have had questions. You sure you don't want to know?”

“I do,” you admitted, “but I also don't want to be anywhere near you. You'll make me black out again.”

“I won't do that,” he said, “there'd be no point in doing that right now. I promise, I won't do anything. Just come back to me.”

Your hand gripped the railing of the stairs and you looked back to the hospital's back entrance. Every fiber of your being wanted to run back inside, even if you would just be restrained and knocked out again.

“C'mon,” Shalnark tried again, “I'm literally holding all of the answers. All you need to do is walk back over.”

This was some kind of trick. It had to be. Shalnark wasn't forthcoming in anything and his promises meant nothing. All this was some sort of way to entrap you.

But if that was the case, then you were trapped anyway. You had no chance of being able to outrun or outsmart him. Once he caught sight of you, you were caught even before he had held you in his arms. He was letting you move around for now. If you made another break for the door, you'd be knocked out again.

Your hand released itself from the railing, and you slowly walked back to him, every step hesitant as you waited for him to pull something.

For once, Shalnark stayed true to his word as he didn't move when you got closer. He even tossed the phone over to you when you got close enough. You caught it with shaking hands, looking back up at him while he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“See? Nothing bad. I just want you to read it.”

There was no way that was all he wanted, and though it was a stupid idea to take your eyes off of him, with how insistent he was being on this you complied with his demands and looking at the article he had pulled up on his phone.

You had guessed at what he had made you do. In your time stuck in that room, running through in your head the ways that people had treated you, how they had reacted to just seeing you, and you knew that he had made you do something horrific.

But it was still hard to read those words that proclaimed you to be a murderer.

Your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, a woman you'd never met named Regina, had been found outside of his car, beaten to death. That same night, the house where Regina's family lived had been set on fire, her mother, father and siblings having all been trapped upstairs and succumbing to the smoke and flames. DNA evidence at both crime scenes pointed to you.

There was a photo, too. Grainy and probably taken from a surveillance camera, but the details were clear enough: you, walking outside, stone-faced and covered in blood.

“Shalnark,” you said slowly, “what did you do?”

“Me? I didn't do anything,” he said, laughing, “it's pretty clear that you're the one who killed your ex and his girlfriend in a jealous rage.”

“No,” you protested, “I-I didn't. It was you. You controlled me. Made me do it.”

“Yeah,” Shalnark admitted. He stepped towards you to take the phone back, adding “but how are you going to prove something like that in court?”

“.... Why?”

The answer to that question was obvious, but you couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Because of that thing you said: that you'd expose me to the world or something. After all we've been through, it made me really sad that you still feel like that,” he explained, “I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere with you. So I decided that some drastic measures were in order.

“You've been really desperate to get away from me, but I wondered: would you still be like that if you knew there was no chance of going back to the way things were?”

“.... What are you saying?” you asked.

“I'll let you choose,” Shalnark answered, “if you really don't want to be with me, I'll let you go. But with all of the evidence there is against you, you'll probably be looking at a life sentence in prison.”

He hummed, hand on his chin as he thought to himself.

“I don't see you doing too well in a prison, personally. And with how bad your crimes were, you'd be sent to the worst one they can find.”

“A-and if I go back with you?” you asked after a moment.

“Then we'll go back to normal!” he said cheerfully, “you'll keep living with me and loving me, and I'll keep you safe. Doesn't that sound nicer than being locked up in some prison?”

“I.....” you began, trailing off. Shalnark waited patiently for you to continue.

“I-I could run away. Go to Meteor City....?”

The sentence came out more like a question.

“You could,” said Shalnark, “but Meteor City won't take you. In fact, if you were to step one foot inside you'd be dead in an instant.”

All of this was becoming too much, and you began to hyperventilate at the thought of what he had made you do to cut off an escape to Meteor City.

“Oh, don't worry. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the other murders; you just stabbed a guy,” Shalnark explained, “but Meteor City doesn't like it when one of theirs is killed for no reason, so if they find you, they'll retaliate in kind. You're pretty lucky the police here kept your location under wraps; I can't imagine how many attempts on your life there would have been if they'd managed to find out.

“But more importantly, what's your decision? Am I taking you back with me or are you going to reject me one final time?”

Seconds turned into minutes as the two of you stood in in that loading bay, Shalnark waiting for your answer while your brain scrambled to figure out what to do. You couldn't go back with Shalnark. Not after all he had done and all you had tried to get away from him. But he was right that you wouldn't survive in a prison. Not that you would have very long to live if you did go to one, as someone from Meteor City would be fast to find and kill you for the man you murdered.

Oh god, what were your parents going through? To have your name be blasted on the headlines as a serial killer. How many friends had they lost? How were they handling the inevitable ostracization they were going through? How many people were trying to hurt them because they couldn't get to you? And did your parents believe you had done all those things? Did they hate you? Was it the same case for your friends and other family? Or would they be able to distance themselves enough that the court of public opinion wouldn't judge them? All of that didn't even go into what you would go through if you were brought to trial. Your entire character would be picked apart and you would go down in the records as a crazed ex-girlfriend who couldn't stand the thought of the guy she liked being with another woman. And that would last until Meteor City came for you.

A potentially longer life stuck with Shalnark, or one that would definitely be much shorter as you were tried for crimes you didn't commit?

It had started to rain as the two of you stood there, and the cold rainwater ran down the slanted entrance of the loading bay and past your bare feet, making you shiver.

Then you heard police sirens in the distance.

“I think they've found out that you escaped,” said Shalnark, “it's now or never.”

You stood still, staring at him dumbly.

He hummed to himself.

“I see,” he said. Then Shalnark turned, and began to walk away.

True panic hit you at the sight of him leaving you behind. Without Shalnark, you would be at the mercy of the police. You'd be at the mercy of a whole world that thought you were a murderer and wouldn't care if you died. Shalnark at least cared a bit, in his own selfish way that didn't regard your feelings in the slightest.

If you didn't go with Shalnark, you would die.

That thought forced your legs to move you forward, and you reached out to grasp the back of his shirt in a desperate bid to keep him from leaving.

He stopped, and for a moment, the two of you stayed there like that.

Shalnark spun around suddenly, grabbing your shoulders to pull you into a kiss.

It was hard to not resist, and after a few seconds, you pushed forward to make yourself kiss him back.

He was grinning ear to ear when he pulled away.

“I knew you'd make the right choice. I knew you couldn't hate me so much to choose death over me.”

He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as he told you “don't worry; I wouldn't have actually let you go. There's nothing in this world that could ever make me abandon you.”

You weren't sure if you should believe him or not.

“We'd better get out of here. This place'll be infested with cops pretty soon.”

You wordlessly accepted the hand he held out to you after he pulled away, and you let him lead you out into the rain and the street beyond. He immediately walked you to an awaiting taxi cab, ushering you into the back before he slid in behind you. The taxi driver didn't acknowledge when the two of you entered, and when you looked over to him, you saw a familiar-looking bat shaped needle sticking in his arm.

The car drove off with the two of you inside after Shalnark typed in a few commands on his phone, and he set it aside to focus on you.

“I didn't mention it earlier, but I actually really like that nurse look,” he said, leaning forward to pull down the sweater so he could get a better look at the nurse's dress you had stolen.

“Hmm. It's a little big on you, though,” he commented as he pulled at the fabric a bit to prove his point, “if I buy you one that fits, will you wear it for me?”

You nodded.

Shalnark, grinned, bringing you into another hug.

You wanted to push him away like you had done before, but things were different now. You had chosen to stay with him. Now you needed to accept his advances. Even though he had said that he would never abandon you, how much could you really trust him?

Shalnark speaking your name brought you out of your thoughts, and he whispered to you “if you try to escape again after this, I'll cut off your legs.”

You couldn't see his expression, but his voice was serious, and you jumped when he pulled away once more.

That smile was back on his face, and he cheerfully said “just kidding.”

#yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #shalnark #yandere shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dire ii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The only way that this can be summarized is: "Does your horniness outweigh common sense once again?" And, well, when the female Dire Wolf does that weird pheromone thing, Jeon Jungkook just can’t say no. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world building, eating raw meat; mentions of (species) discrimination and prejudice; violence; smut (fem reader, still too much m-masturbation, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (ty biology), creampie, cockwarming, biting/marking, cowgirl, saliva everywhere lol); non-idol!AU - werewolfAU / soulmates?; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; is JK a furry? you decide

this is long because smut lmao (but also fluff) yes, I break the fourth wall, it just fit haha inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

–

part i

-

"Stop jacking off!"

He heard the vicious snarl the second the window opened but he didn't stop. 

"Hasn't your dick fallen off yet, you animal–"

"It's been a whole fucking month," Jungkook gritted out, throwing his head back into his pillows as he continued stroking himself. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"With me?" came the disbelieving huff at the foot of his bed. "I'm a busy woman. I'm not like you, masturbating every five seconds," she barked. 

He brought his head back and glared down on her. Completely froze. Even his hand on his cock slowed. 

She was frowning at him at the base of his bed, wearing a torn up black hoodie. It had huge slashes in it across the chest and shoulders, barely holding on. He could see white scars crisscrossed on her skin underneath, a tight black sports bra on her upper torso. She wasn't wearing her usual black face mask. High waisted black pants, with straps on the sides that cinched them in.

"What happened?" He shot up out of the bed, covers a mess, surrounded by too many wadded up tissues.

"Nothing happened," she scowled, looking around him with exasperation. 

"But your clothes–"

"I changed form to get here faster," she said dismissively, grabbing the bottom of the hoodie and yanking it up and over her head. 

"Why is it only your hood–"

"Because I was holding my other clothes but I can’t be fully naked out in public, obviously," she cut him off as if it was the most logical thing in the world. 

"Wait, so you're naked in wolf form?"

"Why the fuck would I be wearing clothes?"

She was crawling on the bed and Jungkook's brain was barely functioning, body jumping involuntarily as she neared. She batted away the dirty tissues, gold-streaked eyes narrowed, a large heavy pendant hanging off her neck – was that diamond? with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center?? how the fuck??? – on a thick silver chain. The chain not only held the pendant, but also her rings. The wolf with the opal eyes. The simple silver band. The skull with the snake. The FEED ring. The large opal gem inlaid in stars. The black stone with a bone pressed into it. And now two more – a twisted silver band and a snake head with black gems for eyes.

"You have more rings," he breathed.

"Yes," she growled. "I said it's been a busy month."

Her fluffy silvery ears stuck straight up, bushy tail swaying. She had a lean, fit body, somehow pure power despite being smaller in physique. She came right up to him, nose to nose, breathing heavily into his face. 

"Look here, Jungkook," she growled. "I understand you're a very horny human, but I have things to do, and you distracting me with your three in the morning jack off sessions is not helping nor is it the way you attract a mate, do you understand?”

He didn’t try to be innocent about it.

"Yeah, but did you think about me though?" Jungkook breathed, letting it mix with hers. 

The gold in her eyes seemed to intensify. 

"Of course, I did," she whispered hotly. "All the fucking time, but I have shit to do, like explain to my father that you're not just a piece of side ass."

"You never gave me the chance to be a piece of side ass." Ugh, she was so close. Fuck, she smelled so good. He couldn't even describe it. "I might have liked it."

She huffed. "You would have. You would have loved it, you horny human, but I don't take sex slaves like the other Dire."

"So, it does exist?" he blurted, eyes widening. 

"It does." She clicked her tongue. "I don't like it though. Those Dires use it as an excuse to mistreat gullible humans."

Silence. 

Just her heavy breathing and staring into each other's eyes. 

"Uh... so what now?" he asked softly. 

"I don't know." She grimaced. "I only came to yell at you."

"Not ask me to be a piece of side ass?"

She let out a hefty puff of air and backed up, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her. 

"Can I be the main piece of ass?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're weird."

"We've established that," he muttered impatiently. "Come on. Just tell me yes or no. Don't leave me like this."

Her eyes darted around them. "Surrounded by cum-filled tissues?"

His ears burned. "Please."

She paused. Then she let out a resigned sigh, removing her arm from his grip. 

"Jungkook," she said, suddenly serious, rasp with a sharp edge. "I'm the Dire Alpha's child."

Hah?

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know. The big angry black wolf with silver streaks that stalks around in a suit when he appears on television with the President?"

HAH?

"WHAT?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. 

She nodded. "Yes. That's my father."

"You... what?" Jungkook gasped, abruptly grabbing his covers and planting them over his crotch. "Your father?"

"That is, indeed, as some people would say, Daddy."

Jungkook's eyes were swirls. "H-how... what? But you're... you're..."

"Not in wolf form all the time, scaring the shit out of people? No. I'm not. But I could do that, because he's my father and we have similar abilities." 

"I was going to say, hot."

She shrugged. "I hear my father has an online fanclub called 'Bitches for WolfDaddy'."

"... Please don't ever say that again."

She visibly cringed. "Anyway, yes, he is my father. I was hoping you'd get bored of fantasizing about me, but I’ve stayed away from you for whole month and you are still going strong," she said, shaking her head. She sighed again, clicking her tongue. "So, I don't know, maybe reevaluate if you want to bang me now that you know."

He didn’t even hesitate.

"I still want to bang."

She flicked his forehead and Jungkook winced, slapping her hand. 

"That hurts!"

"I told you to think," she hissed. "I'm not just any Dire. I'm going to be the Dire Alpha someday. Not only do you have to deal with prejudice from your own people, but also mine and possibly have to watch your back for the rest of your life, because even if my father respects my choices, he's still going to want to eat you."

He rubbed his forehead. "We can't... casually date?"

"I just told you the stipulations of 'casual' dating. If you want to marry me, then we'll have to figure that out later, with the ritual and stuff."

"You're gonna fight me?"

"Like I said," she remarked, waving a hand. "We have to figure that out later, if you're still interested."

"... Can I just be your piece of side ass?"

"No."

She startled him by growling. 

"No, you cannot. I like you too much for that."

Jungkook's brain stopped functioning. "What?"

She leaned forward, brows ticked cockily, wolf ears at attention. 

"I like you. You smell good and you're weird and your actions are funny and I like your blond hair," she listed, reaching up to pet it. "The color is fake but I still like it."

"H-hey!" But he liked the feeling of her hand patting his head, so he didn't move away. She lowered her hand and grinned toothily, revealing the sharp canines. 

"I like coming here and seeing your face, Jeon Jungkook."

He was having heart palpitations.

"Although I've been seeing a lot of your dick recently and that's nice too."

She barked in laughter at her own joke and he pouted, shoving her and having no effect, because she was immobile despite her smaller frame. He puffed his cheeks until she stopped. She winked at him. 

"What do you think? Does your horniness outweigh common sense once again?"

-

Which do you think Jungkook picked?

Yeah.

Not common sense.

-

“Lick me, please.”

“Where is your patience?” you mumbled against his lips, pressing him into his bed with your weight.

“Gone, because you’re driving me insane,” Jungkook growled, firmly gripping your hips and trying remove your pants, but your body wasn’t lifting. “Let me take your clothes off.”

Your hand came up and pressed his head back, kissing down his neck, ignoring his request. Small nips against his throat, making him moan, eyelids fluttering.

“I could kill you any second,” you muttered, still hesitant to go through with it.

“At least let me cum before you off me,” he gasped.

You laughed hotly into his neck. “You’re a crazy human.”

“And I’m horny as fuck, please, I need you.”

You had asked Jungkook if he wanted to wait, if he wanted to take it slow, because it was a lot to take in, all that information of you being the next-in-line Dire Alpha and the fact that you liked him in a more than platonic way, so perhaps, you know, after confessing to each other and agreeing to give this a try, a simple kiss would be enough?

Jungkook was violently humping the front of your pants.

He had replied with, “Can we please fuck? Please?”

Well, you weren’t opposed to it, but maybe some foreplay? A cuddle or some shit?

Nope.

“Stop it,” you chided, but Jungkook wasn’t listening. “Calm down, I’m not going to disappear.”

You lifted your hips and Jungkook immediately slid down, fumbling with the button and the zipper, trying to yank your pants and underwear down roughly.

You yelped, pressing down on his shoulder. “The tail. Watch the fucking tail.”

“What?”

He blinked, letting go as you grunted, sitting up and turning a little so he could see that your large fluffy tail stuck out of a slit in your pants. You pushed your pants down, moving your tail yourself. Your panties were black, but had a snap in the back that you undid first before you could push them down too.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you growled. “Your excitement is getting the best of you.”

Jungkook bit his lip, the mole under his lower lip quivering. “Sorry.” You shifted your tail so it covered you as you removed your panties. He frowned, reaching over. “Hey…” he protested, pausing as his fingertips brushed against the fur. You were about to remove your bra, but stopped.

“Are you petting me?”

He withdrew his hand sharply. “Sorry! Sorry… er… is that rude?” He fiddled with his fingers, obviously itching to touch it again.

You thought about it and shrugged, pulling your sports bra up and over your head. Jungkook’s head immediately jerked upwards to watch your tits bounce out. You shook your ears out as you tossed your bra aside.

“Wow.”

You looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He was looking up at you with awe.

“You’re hot.”

You looked down at his disheveled blond hair, bright chocolatey eyes, tan skin, lean muscle, ink-black tattoos. Innocent, but not. Hesitant, but comfortable in his position under you. There was just something about him. Ah, dating a human was going to be a pain in the ass. You grinned at him and he grinned back, bunny teeth flashing.

Seemed worth it though.

“So are you,” you replied.

He didn’t miss a beat with his cheeky responses.

“You gonna suck my dick or what?”

Your brows raised higher, letting out an amused chuckle. “With these teeth? You sure about that?”

“What are you going to do, bite my dick off? After all your hard work of seducing me?”

You huffed. “That wasn’t hard. All I had to do was lick your face.”

“Speaking of which, please do that again.”

You ticked your head, clicking your tongue. “Damn. Walked into that one.”

Jungkook smirked, placing his hands on your thighs and slowly sliding them up. “Come on…” He pressed his fingers into your skin. “It just makes everything feel so good.” You watched his breathing shallow as he recalled the feeling. “So intense. I don’t know how you do it…” His eyes locked with yours. “I’m pretty sure it’s only you who can do that to me. I want it. Please.”

He wasn’t wrong. It probably was only you.

You leaned down, placing your hands on the sides of his head. Your tail brushed against his nether regions and he gasped, lashes lowering. Oh, how interesting. You swished your tail around, feathering over his hardness. His scent intensified, pre-cum clinging to your silvery fur.

“Mmm, that feels good too…”

You had sex when you were younger, a foolish teenager discovering their sexuality recklessly, but you never had a human partner before. As you grew older, you became weighed down by other responsibilities, too many thoughts to even think about sex. At one point, you wondered if it just wasn’t something that important to you. You didn’t really have initial physical attraction to anyone, so maybe sex was simply lower priority for you than everyone else.

But as Jungkook was under you, as you breathed in his scent and kissed him, long, deep, sensual, you realized perhaps you simply hadn’t found the connection you needed. It wasn’t something you could explain, but there was something. Despite his recklessness and the obvious difference in libido, you wanted to give in to him, on the sole basis that it was Jeon Jungkook and no one else.

You didn’t really understand why, but you weren’t going to question it too much.

Mostly because, at this rate, he was going to cum on your tail.

Your tongue was in his mouth, and he was sucking on it, moaning, small slips of your taste dripping onto his tongue, his hands gripping your ass, rubbing his cock against your fur. You shifted your tail, brushing it up and down his length, and he gasped, breaking the kiss.

“Claim me,” Jungkook breathed. “Please.”

“Technically I have,” you murmured teasingly.

“More,” he whimpered. “Want more. All over me.”

You coated your tongue with your scent, opening your lips a crack to let out a stream of hot breath, wafting over his mouth and nose.

“Mmm, yes, fuck, yeeeeeees…”

“You’re so desperate for it,” your mumbled, barely moving your lips.

“Mhm, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever felt…” he panted, half-lidded eyes shrouded with lust. “Give it to me, you big tease.”

You chuckled, rumbling your chest. Then you tilted your head, placing your lips on his. It dripped down, straight into his mouth; the saliva saturated with your pheromones.

The reaction was immediate, Jungkook moaning hotly into your mouth, eyes rolling back into his head, gripping your hips tightly as he rammed his hard cock right between your thighs, whole body shaking as it invaded him, taking over his senses. You had intense reactions to your scent before, but never like this, never like it consumed the other and drove them as crazy as it seemed to drive Jungkook. Was it supposed to be like this?

Jungkook’s hips were moving of their own accord, fucking the space in between your thighs. You closed them together and he groaned, dropping from your kiss and arching his back, thrusting fast and hard. You watched with fascination, at his closed eyes and straining neck, open mouth emitting his cries of pleasure as he stroked himself with your legs, pre-cum soaking your skin and adding lubrication.

You dipped your head and licked his neck, coating it with you.

He gripped your hips tighter, a tense gasp of your name plucked from his throat.

“M-More, fuck, I’m so close…”

You licked again, dripping more and more saliva onto his shuddering Adam’s apple and he whimpered, face scrunching up as he clenched his jaw, chasing his climax. You hovered your mouth over him, breathing heavily on his skin.

“Cum for me, Jungkook,” you panted, teeth grazing his skin. “Paint me with your scent.”

He whined sharply and shoved your thighs together around the throbbing head of his cock, shuddering as he shot his orgasm into your skin, the hot, thick liquid squirting out between your thighs and dripping down the back and in between. He moaned, thrusting a few more times, smearing his length with his own cum, adding to the pleasure of the sensitive head being squeezed by your thighs.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” he gasped out, falling back onto his bed, but dragging your lower body with him, cock still pulsating and sandwiched by your legs.

“You’ve made a mess,” you observed.

He cracked one eye open. “You make me messy.”

You raised your eyebrows. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Jungkook grinned. “You encouraged.”

You lifted yourself off him and he instantly complained, but you shut him up by sliding down, running your tongue down the length of his chest. Your legs were a sticky mess, but so was Jungkook’s bed covered in cum-filled tissues, and it was only going to get worse because your saliva was all over his pecs and abs, and Jungkook was spreading it everywhere like a madman, shuddering and gasping. His cock was already hard, smacking you in the tits as you lowered yourself to it.

“Is that what you wanted?” you chuckled.

“Y-Yeah… ah, it just makes me feel so fucking good, I don’t understand why…”

You placed your tongue on his twitching cock and licked it up, sighing in satisfaction as his cum coated your tongue.

“Mm, no, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum…” Jungkook whined, but you held his hips, lapping up his taste.

“I’m only cleaning you off, calm down,” you murmured around his cock. You were sure now, by the second taste, that there must be something special about Jeon Jungkook. His cum was addictive. It gave you a euphoric rush, an insatiable hunger for more as you growled, wrapping your tongue around his length and licking up and down, igniting some carnal instinct inside you. You even swiped your tongue over his balls, gathering everything you could, panting as you finished, getting onto your hands.

Breathing hard, lips peeled back, staring down at him like a goddamn meal.

Your drool plopped down onto his stomach.

Jungkook gasped, catching your expression and eyes widening.

“Er…”

You shook your head, puffing out air. “Sorry. Something came over me there.” What was that? Huh. You weren’t in heat. That only happened twice a year. Your next cycle didn’t start for a while. You pondered, furrowing your brow. Jungkook’s hesitant voice cut through your thoughts.

“Er, I have a question.”

You tilted your head, one of your ears flickering. “Hm?”

“Can you… get pregnant by me?” he asked, chewing his lip.

You blinked at him. “Of course. That’s why most Dire males get vasectomies when they have a bunch of… well, never mind.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “Oh. So, we would have half-wolf babies?”

You made a face. Weren’t you technically the half-wolf? Whatever, just explain the result. “No, our children would all be full Dire, because I am the mother. The species of the child is dependent on the biological mother.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his chin. “We have to use condoms then. Or are you on birth control?”

You gave him a confused look. “Why would I be on birth control? I only go into heat twice a year. Which means I only ovulate twice a year.”

Jungkook looked surprised. “Really? Then what does the full moon do?”

“It connects the Dire to our natural instincts as wolves, thus forcefully turning most Dire into their wolf forms. It awakens our primitive instincts of hunt, fight, mate. It heightens all our senses too. But, since we’re only in heat twice a year, our population numbers will always be lower than you humans, which is why we haven’t out-populated you all yet.” You frowned. “Don’t they teach you this shit in school? They teach us human biology at our schools.”

He shook his head. “No. I never learned about this stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “Typical humans, only selfishly focusing on themselves.”

“Uh, I’m right here?” he huffed indignantly.

“Do you disagree, full-time masturbator?” you accused.

Jungkook’s ears turned red. “W-well, it was only because you weren’t visiting!”

How sweet, you thought wryly. “Anyway, why are you asking?”

Now his entire face was red.

“Er… wondering if I can go in raw… If you’re cool with it…” he mumbled.

A bird cawed outside, reminding you both the window was still open.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean if y-you’re not,” Jungkook sputtered. “I totally understand. I got tested yesterday and I’m clean, because I wanted you to not be worried about it and well, oh, maybe you didn’t want to hear that, er…”

You blinked slowly.

“I haven’t had penetrative sex in, I don’t know, three years?”

“Three years?” Jungkook choked. “What? How?”

“I got tested at my last checkup,” you mentioned absentmindedly.

“You go to the doctor?”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Yes? Don’t you?”

“W-well, yeah, but… don’t you heal kinda fast and stuff?”

You raised your hands, confusion deepening. “And so? Do you think I live in the medieval times or something, rubbing leaves on my ailments?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe?”

You slapped your face, rubbing your forehead. “Humans…”

Then something occurred to you. You raised your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Why would you get tested yesterday?”

Now Jungkook was doing that thing were his eyes shifted everywhere. You were becoming well-acquainted with this habit. “Uh… well… you see…”

You looked around you, at the discarded clothes, the rumpled sheets, the tissues, and then snapped your head back to him.

“You planned this,” you barked roughly.

“I missed you!” Jungkook whined, tackling you and pushing you down onto the bed. “You have no idea what you do to me! It’s not fair!” He shoved his face into your hair and inhaled a large breath, shuddering. “You have some kind of weird spell over me and then you wouldn’t come visit and I just needed you so fucking bad…” He was panting against your temple, pressing his chest to yours, moaning as your skin touched his. Your necklace and rings slid down and hit your throat, descending as he rolled his body into yours.

“It’s not a spell,” you gasped, surprised to find yourself breathless as he ground his hips into you. “It’s pheromones, biology–”

“I really don’t care what it is, you make me a horny ass mess and I’m going crazy over here,” Jungkook panted, lifting his head, blond hair brushing your cheek as his blown-out pupils looked down at you. “We don’t have to full-on fuck right now, but you can’t blame me, I absolutely needed to at least see you.”

His hard dick sharply poked you in the thigh.

You raised your eyebrows.

He swallowed. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Well, then you’re just straight up attractive, sue me.”

“You would lose because I can pay a better lawyer.”

He clenched his jaw. “Rich people.”

You shrugged. “We all know the justice system is flawed and driven by money like everything else, even though it shouldn’t be.”

“Stop making societal insights and address the fact you make me horny as fuck,” Jungkook grumbled.

You breathed in his face.

Not normal breath, but breath laced your scent. Jungkook shuddered and rammed his hips into your leg.

“Now you’re doing that thing,” he moaned, rubbing his chest against yours, pushing your nipples around with his pecs.

“It amazes me you’re so turned on by it,” you mused, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against you.

“Fantastic,” he grunted, reaching up and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Write it in your scientific journal.”

You chuckled. “Are you irritated with me?”

“Little bit.”

His fingertips rubbed the fur on your ears, smoothing it. You hummed in approval. It felt nice, like a head scratch. The tip of your tail thumped against the bed. Jungkook murmured your name into your cheek, kissing it lightly.

“Mm, yes?”

“Am I crushing you?”

“No.”

Silence as Jungkook continued petting your ears.

“Can I put my dick in you?”

“Wow, I was enjoying this nice, lovely cuddle time–”

He quickly apologized. “S-sorry. Sorry, I’ll–”

You opened your legs under him and Jungkook’s lower body dropped onto the bed, his cock bumping against your wet heat. He gasped, yanking your ears forcefully and you growled in warning. He quickly let go, placing his hands on the bed, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry, you just…”

You extended your tongue, arching a brow.

He bit his lip, moaning deep in his throat as he pressed his length against your dripping core.

“S-stop… you’re d-doing it on purpose…”

You licked your lips, coating them with you. You watched him struggle to resist the scent, shoulders locking, head hanging, panting hard as his ash blond hair drifted down and grazed your cheeks. Eyes so dark they seemed black.

“I’m aware of the consequences,” you said huskily.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gritted out before he unlocked his shoulders and dove down, roughly pressing his lips into yours and rubbing his cock into your juices. He moaned, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you wrapped your scent all over it. You shifted your hips and the head pressed against your slick slit. You weren’t sure how he was going to handle this after being that turned on by your saliva, but, oh well, that was his problem now.

“Go ahead,” you drawled against his lips, your voice a low rasp.

Jungkook backed up, panting hard, furrowing his brow at you. “What?”

You smirked. “You’ll find out.”

You rubbed your opening against the tip and Jungkook gasped, eyelashes fluttering.

“Ho-o-oly shit.”

-

He was fucked.

Absolutely fucked.

The second even half a centimeter slid in, Jungkook lost it and shoved his cock all the way to the base, the feeling so intense and hot that he momentarily forgot what existence was, because, fuck, it was like the pleasure ate him up and all he could feel was the overwhelming heat and tightness of her pussy, every single ridge and squelch of wetness, throbbing and pulsating around him. It was only when she moaned softly under him that Jungkook remembered that he wasn’t on some existential plane of existence and in the real world.

“Gah… it’s so… intense…” he panted out, eyes rolling back into his head as her muscles clenched around him.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to survive if I’m actually in heat,” she mused. “You’ll probably nut within a second of being in me.”

“Wow… that’s awfully rude… of you to say…”

Jungkook wanted to be chill, but it was impossible, because his hips were already moving, sliding in and out, smacking their hips together, groaning at the sensation of being roughly massaged all over by wet heat, soaked with her scent, already pushed to his limit and he had to bite he inside of his cheek to hold back.

“I should have… used a condom…”

“Not sure that would be much help, you horndog,” she teased.

“Do you even feel anything?” he hissed, roughly smacking his hips into hers. “Or are you going to… spend the entire time… giving me snarky commentary?”

Their eyes locked and he noticed how gold her irises were now, almost flaring with light.

“Need it harder,” she breathed.

The overwhelming passion sank into him with every breath he felt against his skin.

“Harder, please, Jungkook…”

And his body responded, lifting one of her legs and smacking their hips together hard, moaning as he felt her thigh against his skin, the heat closing in on him, fucking her into the mattress so roughly the bedframe shook and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as his orgasm hit him so hard that he keeled over and nearly folded her in half, gasping as he shot into her throbbing heat, cock twitching, but still hard because of this whole scent possession thing so he just kept going, kept thrusting into her, lewd, loud slapping of flesh against flesh, squelching as he fucked his own cum into her.

She grinned at him, mischievous and wolf-like, so many pointed teeth, and he was so damn hard, he didn’t understand how she made him so crazy but, also, he didn’t care because it felt so fucking good. It felt like his entire cock was vibrating his pleasure and fanning out over his balls and ass and back and up his spine and into his head, made more intense by the soft growls of his name from her lips and the smell of his cum mixing with hers. She sucked in a tight breath, body tensing.

“Mm, ah, Jungkook…”

Her pussy tightened, squeezing him rough and hard, and Jungkook whimpered, falling over the edge, pleasure hitting every nerve and igniting them all at once, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping out her name, whole body shivering with lust, his cock jerking and spurting a second load into her all-consuming wet heat, so much that it slid back and coated his own cock. He shuddered and slipped down, losing strength of his arms as her hands quickly planted themselves on his chest, holding him up. Slowly, she shifted her leg down and he moaned, feeling his cock shift inside her and some of his cum squirt out between them, soaking into his sheets.

The scent of sex hovered around them, clinging to their skin.

Jungkook couldn’t move.

Did he die?

Kind of felt like it.

Nothing but heat and pleasure, her pussy wrapped around his cock, pulsing slowly.

She held him up easily, measured, even breaths as she came down, a distinct difference to his absolutely fucked-out state, panting, forehead coated with sweat. He couldn’t say anything. She just calmly lowered him to her chest, wiping his forehead with the back of her hand and exhaling, waiting for his heart to slow and beat in time with hers.

It took several minutes.

To be honest, Jungkook was kind of happy he couldn’t move. His cock, although softening, was having a great time in this wet warmth.

“Uh… this has never happened before…” he mumbled, pressing his cheek against hers so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye.

She chuckled. “I figured you might need a second.”

“I’ll get better at it.”

“That’s true. You’ll need lots of practice.”

Silence. Comfortable silence. Except for a couple outside squabbling loudly like crows. It was kind of ruining the moment.

“You should have closed the window,” Jungkook scolded, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“My bad. I was a little distracted by you furiously jacking off.”

“… Kind of proud I still had it in me to fuck you.”

He stiffened. Her tongue traced his ear.

“It’s the spell,” she teased.

“You said it’s biology.”

She chuckled, the laugh rumbling her chest.

-

“Why are you always perfectly okay after we fuck?”

You shrugged, nibbling on the piece of cheese you found in Jungkook’s fridge. He was on the floor of the kitchen, panting, hair sweaty and sticking to his face, the floor an absolute mess of fluids after you rode him right here in his own kitchen.

“Guess I’m just built different.”

He gritted his teeth, slamming his fist on the floor.

“It’s hurting my pride.”

This was nice cheese. You chewed, enjoying the flavor.

“I wouldn’t be so depressed about it. Maybe you need to work out.”

Jungkook glared at you. You chuckled and squatted down, flicking your tail against his thighs. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s only been a few hours since we fell asleep and woke up.”

He clicked his tongue. “I need a shower. Again.”

“That’s your fault, you know. You always want me to lick you all over.”

“Speaking of which, lick me all over in the shower, thanks in advance.”

-

Your father could smell him off you and declared he was going to eat him.

“You will not.”

Your father growled at you. It was quite intimidating and you would have run if he wasn’t your father.

“You. Will. Not.” You repeated yourself with sternness.

Your father had snapped his jaw, grimacing in annoyance. Black lips peeling back, showing all his sharp teeth, gold eyes flashing. He was always in wolf form. He rarely changed.

“I doubt he’s more than a gulp to me. A mere bunny.”

“You can have your opinion, but he’s mine.”

He stomped away, paws heavy on the stone floor.

“You’ll tire of him.”

Honestly, you expected more of a fight. But you hadn’t missed the tick of your father’s head as he sniffed you, the pensive spark in his eyes. Everyone said he wasn’t the same since your mother passed away. You wouldn’t know, but he definitely wasn’t the thoughtful type. You watched him walk away, black and silver tail swishing, claws scraping.

You wondered what your father was like when he was in love.

Did he like holding hands? Did he look at your mother in awe and tell her how beautiful she was?

Did he tell her he loved her?

Your father turned his large head, puffing heavily from his elongated snout. You didn’t say anything. He was a huge black wolf, even bigger than your wolf form. Next to your human form, you were comically small. But down the hall, you were almost the same size, eye level.

His white teeth flashed.

Then he faced forward again and walked away.

Was he going to say something but decided against it?

“I love you, Father.”

You said it softly. He was gone, but maybe he heard anyway.

The Dire Alpha had excellent hearing.

-

“Uh, are you okay?”

You flung yourself through his window, scowling angrily.

“My father made me train for no reason.”

“Train for what?”

“Fighting, obviously.”

You hit the floor of his bedroom with a hard thunk, body aching all over. Still wearing an oversized black hoodie and black jeans four sizes too big. Your father was relentless. You must be going soft if you’re dating a human. Well, you showed him. But not before half-dying from his strikes.

Jungkook hurried over to you, but you scowled, shooing him away. You got on your hands and knees, snarling at the pain, snapping your teeth.

“Do you need an ice pack or something?” he asked, peering at you as you mentally steeled yourself, hoisting your body to your feet.

“No,” was your stubborn response. “I am fine.”

“You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“Sparring with my father does that,” you muttered, cracking your neck. “You want to try?”

“No, not really.”

You finally got a good look at Jungkook. He was wearing a patterned dress shirt with black slacks. Blond hair styled and parted to one side, revealing his strong and handsome features.

“What’s with you?” you asked, confused by his appearance.

He gestured weakly to the bedroom door. “Well… I made dinner… so maybe you want to eat with me?”

Oh. Your cheeks flushed warmly.

“I would love to.”

And then you collapsed, the world going black.

-

Jungkook couldn’t move her.

He was a strong guy, but she was like a giant sack of bricks in this state, crumpled onto his bedroom floor, bushy tail flared out, silvery ears flopped to one side. She was still breathing, but it was pained and shallow. He grabbed one of his pillows and managed to lift her head, shoving it under her. How bad as it? He pushed up the hem of her hoodie and looked.

Oh.

Fuck.

That’s a lot of bruises.

He shoved the hoodie back down and looked back to her face.

Her eyes were cracked open, husky chuckle on her lips.

“I think I’m a little tired…”

Jungkook tugged on her sweater. “Can you move? Just to get onto the bed. I can’t lift you.”

She let out a puff of air. “Floor is fine.”

“No, it’s not. The love of my life does not belong on the floor.”

“Hah.”

Her eyes slipped closed.

“You called me the love of your life.”

Oh.

He did, didn’t he?

Jungkook looked down at the female Dire. Her soft tufted ears and lush silver tail, but otherwise human. Definitely wasn’t though. He knew that from experience.

He couldn’t leave her.

Not even as the dinner got cold and forgotten. He dragged all his bedding onto the floor and created a blanket circle around their bodies, nuzzling himself next to her. He placed his head beside hers and watched her face. She seemed to be in a deep, dep sleep. Jungkook smiled despite her not being able to see and kissed her nose.

Shut his eyes, enjoying their closeness.

Her tail came up and rested on his legs.

-

“So I’m the love of your life, huh?”

“Gah!”

Jungkook snapped his eyes open, jerking back. But he couldn’t go far, because she was on top of him, all her clothes off, on her hands and knees. His eyes widened. She still had bruises, but they seemed to be lighter, purple-green. She tilted her head, fluffy ears flickering. The necklace she wore had the diamond pendant and – he counted – eight rings, the same number as before. Whew.

She scratched her neck and he noticed her nails were painted black again.

“Why are you naked?” Jungkook sputtered.

“Got hot,” she mumbled. “I usually sleep naked.”

Jungkook stared into her eyes. She seemed tired, but not near collapsing like she had been when she entered. The window was closed.

“Can you change?”

“Hm?”

“Into your wolf form. Can you change right now?”

She looked down at him. “Yes, of course.”

“Can I see?”

She blinked.

“You a furry or something?”

“N-no? I just… want to see it…”

She raised an eyebrow and backed up, tail swishing. He sat up, watching her form as she moved to an open space in his room. Sleek, primal, powerful. It didn’t take long. Two, three steps and there was the crack of bone rearranging, a sharp gashing of teeth and the long snout appeared, lips peeled back as she shook her head. He almost missed it, the sudden swish of fur and swiftly it was all over, her frame suddenly huge, daunting, reminding him of that night when she had saved him. Wicked black claws, undeniably dangerous. Muscles flexing as she stepped in a circle, the white crescent fur pattern on her back gleaming against her silvery pelt, hairs tipped with black.

She cracked her neck, staring down at him. The necklace now looked comically small and the ceiling seemed far too low. Her voice seemed to resonate, but still husky and recognizable.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Her eyes were pure gold, glinting in the moonlight through his window.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook breathed.

She chuckled, sitting down, tail swishing. “Are you sure you’re not a furry?”

“I don’t know and I don’t really care,” Jungkook muttered, admiring the way the moon seemed to bring out the shine in her fur.

She padded over and encircled him, tail brushing against his chest. Plopped down on the blankets, nudging with her leathery black nose. Jungkook looked up into her golden orbs. She seemed to raise an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He leaned back against her shoulder, burrowing in the softness.

“Can I… see your teeth?” he asked softly.

She clicked her tongue, chest vibrating. Took him a moment to realize she was containing her laughter.

“You’re a little freaky, Jungkook,” she chuckled and then she opened her mouth, sharp, pointed white teeth glistening, lowering them to him. Next to his shoulder, breathing in heavy puffs. Definitely could rip him apart in an instant.

Not going to lie.

Jungkook was a little turned on.

Her tongue slid out, licking his neck.

Slightly more turned on.

“Satisfied?” she drawled.

“Erm, yes.”

She closed her mouth and laid her head on the blankets.

“Naptime.”

And she nestled around him, letting him sleep against her silvery warmth.

-

You woke him up by licking him.

Softly, on his neck. But not subtly, because you let it drip on his skin, painting him with your scent. He groaned, shifting in your arms, but you held him still, hands on his torso. He was still wearing that nice dress shirt and slacks. His blond hair was a little ruffled from sleep, but you could see the effort. You felt bad for not realizing his intent sooner but, then again, you couldn’t choose your father’s orders.

You weren’t in wolf form anymore. That would be strange if you were.

But somehow, you didn’t think Jungkook would care.

You heard him mumble your name. You placed your lips on his neck and kissed him softly.

“Bite me.”

“Chomp.”

He clicked his tongue. “Be serious.”

“You would be dead if I was serious.”

“You know what I mean,” Jungkook muttered, taking your hands and placing them on the buttons of his dress shirt. “Just a little bit. I’m human, not fragile.”

He was right.

“Ah, sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologize.” His voice was deep, leaning his head back on your shoulder, exposing his neck. “Mark me. Fuck me up. Show me you want me.”

You chuckled, tail swishing slowly.

“Sure.”

He asked for it.

Your lips opened, tongue sliding out, dripping all over his skin. Jungkook moaned under you, hands reaching back and finding your thighs, squeezing them. One button. Two buttons. Teeth pressed against his throat, soaking him with you. Three buttons. You bit down, softly, and sucked, inhaling his scent. He was wearing some kind of cologne. You licked it off, replacing it with you. Jungkook shivered, gasping as your hand slid into his shirt.

“Harder…”

“You’re such trouble, Jungkook,” you mumbled, kissing down his shoulder, nipping at his skin. He whined as you pressed your fingertip to his nipple, rubbing in slow circles. You sank your teeth in, not breaking skin, but definitely hard enough for him to feel it, sucking just as roughly. Fuck. The feeling of him in your canines, the subtle taste of his skin coating your tongue.  You growled in your chest, pinching his nipple and hurriedly undoing the rest of his shirt. Jungkook shuddered under your mouth, moaning as you pushed the fabric aside.

“Mmm, fuck, yes…”

You pulled away, seeing the dark purple mark on his skin, pinpricks of red where your teeth had dug in. He pressed his back into your chest, panting heavily. You leaned forward, parting your lips. Thick, viscous saliva dripped down, plopping onto his pecs, coating him with your scent. You took it and rubbed it against his nipples, and Jungkook instantly reared into your hands, moaning, hands flying down to his slacks and fumbling with the button.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

Your lips pressed against his ear as he fought with his pants, grunting in annoyance as they weren’t coming off fast enough. You traced his earlobe with your tongue and he gasped, leaning into it, raising his hips to remove his slacks as you nipped just under his ear, right at the pulse point.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Jungkook growled.

You licked up and down, so much saliva that it trickled down his neck. He whimpered as your teeth closed in.

“Say something…”

You paused for a moment. Then you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him to one side to expose more of his neck to you.

“Time to show everyone you’re mine,” you snarled.

You gripped his head tightly and bit down, sucking his skin into your mouth. Jungkook’s body bucked into yours, throaty moans vibrating in your lips but you barely noticed, because suddenly you could smell his scent, his hand once again palming himself, spreading his pre-cum over his throbbing cock. The faintest prick and his blood touched you tongue.

Oh.

Fuck.

You drew back, eyelids fluttering, grating groan as you leaned forward and licked it off. Couldn’t help it, you were a damn carnivore and his blood was right there, so you had to remove your teeth, but you were still going to lick it up. Ugh, so good. Jungkook whined out your name and you lowered him to the blankets, crawling down to his hand still stroking his cock.

“C-Can you…?”

“No, I cannot. Move your hand so I can sit on your dick.”

He moved his hand and pouted at you. “But–”

You lifted your head and stared at him in the eye. Jungkook froze, eyes widening. You knew what it looked like. Pure gold, almost glowing. One side of his neck was patterned with purple and red, your bites on his skin. He wouldn’t be able to cover them easily. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. Was it the blood? His smell? His body with your ownership on his skin?

In any case, there was no way you were going to attempt to blow him now.

You opened your mouth, panting hard.

“Jungkook, I want to. Sit. On. Your. Dick.”

He nodded, pulling his hands away. “Yes. Please.”

You lifted your body and sank down on him. Jungkook choked on air, gripping the blankets tightly as you closed your eyes, exhaling deeply as you felt him fill you up. Had it ever felt like this before? You weren’t even close to heat and yet it was still so good, felt so nice with him inside you as you squeezed him with your muscles. Jungkook gasped, shoulders tensing at the sensation.

“Are you trying to end me in seconds?” he hissed, but you ignored him, rocking your hips, holding onto his waist, sliding him in and out of you easily. You breathed in, pressing your fingers into his skin as your rode him and he turned into a moaning puddle under you, working his hardness, focusing more on clenching him inside you rather than smacking your hips together.

“It doesn’t matter,” you breathed. “I’ll make sure you can keep going.”

“Fuck, you’re mean,” Jungkook gritted out.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him. Him and his head pressed back into the blankets, blond hair contrasting the navy fabric, jaw tight, eyes screwed shut as he tried to hold on. He felt your gaze and cracked his eyes open, surveying you through his lashes.

You smiled at him, rolling your hips down his length.

“Don’t–”

You opened your mouth and let it drip onto his abs.

“Fuck!”

His hands smacked into yours and his back arched sharply, muffled wail as he came inside you, hot thick strings painting your insides. It was a sudden, euphoric sensation that seemed to flood you with pleasure from bottom up, massaging his length as his cum squelched with your movements, soaking down your walls and coating his cock, trickling onto his balls. You slid your hands out of his and spread your saliva over his stomach, still warm from his hot skin.

You could tell it was taking over him, the way his hands crawled up your thighs, gripping your hips, opening his dark eyes, pupils blown out, completely intoxicated by lust.

You slid your hands to his sides, planting them on the floor.

“Fuck me back, Jungkook,” you drawled huskily. “Shove your cum into me.”

Hard, rough, fast – you slammed your hips into him and Jungkook groaned, grabbing your ass and raising his hips to meet yours, an obscene squish as his cum was jammed back into your folds. You bit your lip, grinning, all your nerves tingling, ears and tail bristling, chasing your release as you thrust him into you and he smacked his hips back, matching your pace. His eyes found yours. Darkness to gold.

“Shit, you look so hot…”

You tightened around him and he moaned, throwing his head back, the purple-red hickeys on his neck flexing with his muscle.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty with my bites,” you panted, towering over him, the head of his cock jamming into your deepest parts, so perfectly nice and wet and messy, his cum and your juices spilling out onto his legs and balls, soaking the blankets under you as you fucked him relentlessly. “Cum for me, Jungkook. Let’s make a mess.”

Your name tore of out of his throat, and you gasped as he filled you again, all the way to the brim, eyes fluttering closed as your orgasm shadowed his, suffocating and unrelenting, squeezing his stiff length so hard that your cum and his cum splattered down, painting mixed scents on both your crotches. Strong and heady, intoxicating and addictive. You sat all the way down, moaning as you relished in the joined wetness, thick and wonderful, your hands coming up and caressing his heaving torso, his hands falling from your hips and hitting the floor with a thud.

Slow, deep breaths.

You looked down at Jungkook. His eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly. His blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, jaw tense. You patted his chest and he opened one eye, peering at you.

“Should I get up?”

His hands came back up and rested on your thighs. “No. I like this.”

You pulsated around his twitching cock and Jungkook closed his eyes again, sighing in satisfaction, listening to the lewd spurt of more cum dripping out. You lifted one of your hands and placed it on your lips. Then you lowered it and placed your fingers to his lips.

Jungkook’s eyes opened, brown orbs hazy.

You grinned at him, silvery ears flicking upward.

-

Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror.

This t-shirt was not going to cut it.

He went back to his closet and retrieved a scarf.

Nope, this just looked stupid.

He went back to the closet and found a turtleneck. A white and black striped one.

Well. Less stupid. Too hot for it, but that was his own fault.

Jungkook pulled down the collar. He traced the bite mark. He swallowed, feeling the arousal building up inside him once again. Remembered the way she felt around him. The way his whole body seemed drawn to her, the way his cock was soaked with him own cum and hers. She had already left. Had things to do and all that. A slow smile grew on his lips.

He had ten minutes before he actually had to leave for work.

He could annoy her for a little bit.

Jungkook’s tattooed right hand slid down to his jeans, undoing the button.

-

You raised your head.

Frowned.

You father got up from the table and took his plate with him. Hunk of raw meat and all.

“Father?”

The gigantic black wolf paused and glared at you. Blood dripped from his white teeth.

“Daughter, I recognize his scent just as well as you.”

Oh.

Yikes.

You decided not to tell Jungkook that.

Ignorance is bliss.

-

“No.”

“Why not?”

You were sitting on the rooftop of his apartment complex. He had taken you up here to show you the sunset over the city. Fed you a large hunk of raw high-quality meat and three bottles of soju. Became slightly upset when you didn’t get drunk. Too much muscle mass, perhaps.

“I’m not going to fuck you on the full moon, Jungkook,” you chuckled as you nibbled on a piece of cheese. It was such an interesting flavor. Jungkook had said it was some kind of gourmet cheese, but to you it was only a wedge of very tasty dairy.

“It might be nice?” he tried, nudging you.

You chuckled. “It’ll definitely be nice, but you still can’t move after I’m done with you at the moment, so let’s build up some tolerance first.”

“Let’s,” Jungkook pouted. “You just mean me.”

You were sitting on a green plaid blanket Jungkook had spread out for you two. You looked over to him and his dark denim jacket with matching dark jeans. He was wearing a white Beatles t-shirt under it.

“Do you actually like the Beatles or are you just wearing it for aesthetics?”

Jungkook looked down at his shirt. “Of course, I like the Beatles. Who doesn’t like the Beatles?” He snapped his head up, eyes widening. “You know who the Beatles are?”

You rolled your eyes. “I keep telling you I am not from the medieval times; there are just some primitive ideals in my culture, ugh.” You poked his chest and he rubbed it, frowning. You continued, ignoring his frown. “Obviously I know who they are. The Beatles changed music. Recording, songwriting, artistic presentation – they brought music to new heights. They changed music not only as an industry but also the way people felt about music. Think about it. They became an international act when people were only listening to music on the radio. Do you know how insane that is? Everything travels so fast on the Internet nowadays, but the Beatles became popular without the internet. Can you even imagine that in this day and age?”

You turned your head to make your point and Jungkook was staring at you, slack-jawed.

“What?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I like listening to you. I totally agree by the way. Do you like music?” he said excitedly. “I work at a records store. You want to come by sometime?”

You blinked at him.

“Ah… sure. That sounds nice.”

-

part iii

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masterpost

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