#[gripping my planning document With Force]

[volivolition]

reading the "after the mind, the world again" ttrpg rulebook and im in love with it

my god i am so affectionate towards them. but MAN this is so fucking cool i wish i wasnt a scared little guy so i could play ttrpgs hkjhd...

[littlelamy]

hear me out: prince(maybe king)!rafe x maid!reader. 🧖🧖🧖🧖

author's note: eeekkk i am so so excited that someone requested this. i went a bit overboard and created a moodboard with the request. ahhh i hope you like it!!!🤭

rafe had always been a man of extremes. as a prince, he had earned a reputation for his ruthless cunning and the unyielding fire in his blue eyes. the court whispered about him—how he wanted everything in his kingdom to shine with perfection, to bow to his every whim. yet, none of that prepared anyone, least of all you, for the way he turned his obsession toward you.

it had started so innocently. you were just a maid, one of dozens who cleaned the gleaming marble floors of his grand castle, who arranged flowers in gilded vases and tended to fires in his countless hearths. you had caught his eye in a fleeting moment, bending to pick up a stray petal from the floor of the great hall. rafe had been striding through, his voice sharp as he barked orders at his entourage, but he fell silent as his gaze landed on you. that single moment was all it took.

from that day on, you felt the weight of his attention like an iron chain around your neck. it wasn’t long before his orders began to involve you directly. he demanded you be reassigned to his personal chambers. at first, it was simple tasks—polishing the ornate frames of his mirrors, arranging the heavy drapes that shielded his private windows. but as days turned to weeks, his demands grew stranger.

“stay,” he would say as you finished your work, his tone leaving no room for argument. he’d sit at his desk, pretending to pore over documents, but his eyes always found you in the reflection of the polished glass. “just for a moment longer.”

rafe’s fixation was terrifying in its intensity. he spoke to you as if you were the only thing that mattered, as if the kingdom itself was a distant second to your mere existence. his words were laced with a dangerous kind of reverence. “you don’t understand,” he whispered one evening, his voice low and almost tender. “you’re the only thing in this place that feels real.”

you tried to avoid his gaze, to keep your answers curt and respectful. “your grace, i am only here to serve.”

“and serve you will,” he replied, his lips curving into a possessive smile that made your stomach twist. “but not as a maid. no. i have other plans for you.”

those plans became clearer as he began to isolate you. you were no longer allowed to eat in the servants’ quarters or mingle with the other staff. instead, meals were brought to you in a small, luxurious room he had ordered prepared for your “comfort.” guards watched your every move, their silent vigilance a reminder that escape was not an option.

rafe’s obsession was suffocating. he lavished you with gifts you didn’t want—silken gowns, jeweled necklaces that felt like shackles against your skin. and yet, despite the fear that gripped your heart, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder at the man behind the obsession. there were moments, rare and fleeting, where his intensity softened into something almost vulnerable.

“they all want something from me,” he confessed one night, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “power, wealth, favor. but you… you didn’t even look at me. you didn’t try to catch my eye.” he cupped your chin then, forcing you to meet his gaze. “do you have any idea how maddening that was?”

you didn’t dare respond, your heart pounding in your chest. his thumb brushed over your cheek, a touch that was both tender and possessive. “you belong to me now,” he murmured, and the finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

one evening, as you stood in his chambers, preparing to leave after completing your duties, rafe stepped into your path. his gaze was dark and unreadable, his breathing uneven. before you could protest, his hand reached out to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. his lips met yours in a kiss that was as fierce and demanding as the man himself.

it wasn’t gentle. rafe kissed like he was trying to claim every breath, every thought, every part of you. his hands tightened their grip, one tangling in your hair while the other pressed against the small of your back, anchoring you to him. his touch grew rougher as the kiss deepened, his fingers groping at your waist and hips, pulling you flush against him.

he tilted your head back, his teeth grazing your lower lip before pulling away just enough to let his breath ghost over your skin. his eyes burned into yours as his thumb brushed over your swollen lips. “so beautiful,” he purrs, his voice low and guttural. the word sent a flush through your body, leaving you stunned and breathless.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with your own. “you drive me mad,” he whispered, his voice rough. “but you… you’re mine. never forget that.”

in the days that followed, you tried to find cracks in his armor, weaknesses in the iron-clad control he had over you and his kingdom. but rafe was relentless. his obsession consumed him, and in turn, it threatened to consume you as well.

late one night, as you stood on the balcony of your gilded cage, staring out at the moonlit expanse of the kingdom, you felt his presence behind you. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“you’re mine,” he said again, his lips brushing against your ear. “and i will destroy anyone who tries to take you from me.”

you realized then that there was no escape, no reasoning with a man like rafe. he was a king in every sense of the word, and his obsession had made you his queen—whether you wanted to be or not.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[janumun]

Faaaaa my babyyyy, I'm here as promised. 🥺🥺 We already talked about this in dms and you seemed so interested so can you write the lads men reacting to mc's death, please pretty please

When You Are Gone [All LaDS Men - Angst Headcanons]

Rated: SFW - Angst Tags: hurt/no comfort, poorly dealing with the death of a loved one

Summary: The LaDS men dealing with the aftermath of your death, in the heartbreaking messages they leave in your voicemail almost regularly even long after you’re gone, in an effort to cope with your loss.

Author’s Notes : Hey darling, absolutely! Here you go. Hope you enjoy (?). 😭 This headcanon’s a bit differently formatted because I was inspired by the game’s speech to text function. 

Sylus

TW: knowingly putting oneself in danger, mortally wounded Sylus, insomnia, mild spoilers for Razor’s Grip ASMR 

Transcript:

Hey there! You’ve reached my voicemail, which is a rare occurrence. That either means I do not know recognize your caller ID. Orrrr you are a certain infuriating Boss Man, trying to calling me up at all ungodly hours of the night again. Whoever you are, leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you ASAP.  

A heavy snort of sour laughter rolls past bruised lips, to hear the familiar automated sound of your voice playing on the other end of the line; one Sylus does not tire of no matter how many times he’s heard it. A thick, punishing burst of pain fractures across his torso when he chokes up on the blood gurgling within his throat.  

Sylus reaches to curb the sound within a bloodied fist, clearing his throat to speak once more. 

I suppose I did deserve all your reprimands, seeing as I am still calling you way past your bedtime, kitten.  

His voice lowers an octave, slow, gentle.   

I hope you’re having a good dream. 

I’m only calling because you told me to let you know anytime I’d be away on a risky mission. A hushed chuckle sounds on the other end of the line.  

You'd practically ordered it of me — do you remember?  

The night when you grabbed me by the lapels and asked me to not make a deal all on my own, ever again. That you worried for me whenever I was gone and you wanted to know the next time I planned on taking a mission, of this caliber. 

You’d willingly walked back to me and since then, I have always made space for you, just like you’ve wanted. 

I’ve kept up my end of our bargain.  

A guttural moan of pain sounds through the otherwise quiet of the night.  

These wounds of mine... functioning without sleep for this long, and a poor decision made on my end, the combination was bound to have consequences.  

His chuckles knell throaty, labored. 

And now, all I wish to do is sleep.  

A lengthy silence follows after, making one believe the user on the other end of the line might’ve cut the call. Or fallen asleep in exhaustion of his wounds, like he said.  

Before that gentle burr of his sounds once more. 

You know I can’t die, sweetie, unfortunate as that is in this moment.  

But I do have a wish for when my body inevitably loses its awareness for the short time it takes to recuperate.  

I hope, Sylus’s voice softens. that when I close my eyes this time, I get to see you in my dreams.  

Zayne

TW: allusions to embalming a body long after death, mentions of a protocore heart that continues to function even after the host’s death, denial of grief 

Transcript:

Hi, you’ve reached my voicemail. I am currently unavailable but drop me a message and I’ll get back to you, stat. 

A quiet insouciant voice — the clearing of a throat — begins on the other end of the line.  

Akso Hospital Log 171, the time right now is 4:17 AM. The host’s heart continues to function, although its less-than-optimal cardiac output remains at 1L per min. A pulse rate of 13 beats per min has been documented today. A slight decrease from its value yesterday, recorded at 17 beats per minute.  

A brief pause. 

Does it bother you to hear me speak of you this way? I’m sorry. A mere force of habit on my part. You are my patient, after all. Documentation must be precise, and to the point, for our research to progress, if we are to have even a sliver of a chance at resuscitating your heart.  

I have hope we will succeed; I will do my utmost as a doctor so that we may save you.  

Another pregnant pause. 

Do you too think I am foolish for my efforts?  

Greyson accosted me in the hallways tonight after my scheduled surgery and he seemed so... incensed. For being unable to give up on you, for crossing a line, to not get overtly attached to any of our patients, he said it was a clear violation of our Oath and called it my professional failing. And afterwards... he implored that I give up now.  

Someone once asked me, long ago: if I would go beyond death to try and bring back the person I loved, were they to pass away. And I answered that I would not, a desecration of the dead is not something I’d wish to do. Or wish upon the deceased. I would rather divert all my efforts to ensuring they would live, that their heart would continue to beat healthy.  

So, in retrospect, it is Greyson who’s strange in expecting my willing defeat, without having even tried to the best of my capabilities. Not when your heart still continues to beat. 

I do, however, miss you... very much, even though hope remains in my heart. 

When the day comes that you wake up, I hope you do not have to suffer like this, ever again. 

Rafayel

TW: gradual loss of vision, self-blame 

Transcript:

Hi, hello! I’m unable to answer your call at the moment but hey, feel free to drop me a voice message and I’ll get back to you soon. Bye-bye! 

A sharp inhale; as if the person on the other end of the line is wracked by sudden, vicious pain.  

Before the sound smoothens out, as if it had never been. An airy voice begins, although the nonchalant inflection to his tone sounds odd, all wrong — a fact the recipient of the voicemail would’ve been able to parse instantly, were they still around. 

Hey cutie! It’s me again, your favorite person in the entire world.  

Sorry about that earlier, I always get a bit startled whenever I hear you say good-bye in that crazy adorable voice.  

Since y’know, the very last time we met, you never told me you were leaving. 

Silence descends.  

It really feels like it’s been another 800 years, I fear the fish will actually start flying and the whales will start walking this time.  

Only, I don’t think you’re coming back this time, are you?  

My bride can be so cruel sometimes. 

A humorless laugh.  

Anyyyyway, I’m dropping a voice note today because my eyesight’s been acting up a bit lately so I can’t really leave you a text like I usually do.  

And before you scold me about it, I know I’m not supposed to be painting this long but I’m close to completing this new painting of you and I can’t rest until it’s done and dusted.  

Don’t hate me for it, pretty? 

A pleased, wistful sound.  

I really wish you were here so I could show it to you right now.  

A strident crash sounds in the background of the caller as paintbrushes overturn along with a color palette; garnet red and deep purple staining his floor a macabre color Rafayel cannot perceive in that moment.  

Whoa, now that’s gonna leave a mess from the sounds of it.  

Whatever, I’ll clean it up later once I get my sight back.  

The point is, cutie, I’ll share a snap of the completed painting with you once it’s done.  

Be prepared to be absolutely blown. So dazzled you fall head over heels in love with me. 

And then perhaps... return, if you like it and me enough.  

His sigh is steeped in mild vexation.  

Waiting hurts.  

Having you not remember our time together, in every lifetime we meet, hurts. It really is all your fault, you know.  

A soft, disgruntled moue you can hear within his words.  

But I hope, in our next life, we don’t cross paths.  

That way, you won’t be forced to sacrifice yourself for my sake, ever again, you silly girl.  

A throttled sound; it almost sounds like a wretched moan of pain.  

I don’t want our bond to shackle you down anymore so I think... I’ll let you go now.  

A human like you far suits the sun, not being saddled down below within turbulent seas. 

So, this will be our final farewell now. 

The words nearly scraped free of his throat on a rasped sound.  

Goodbye, my beloved bride. 

I loved— 

Beep. Your message has been recorded and sent.  

Caleb

Transcript:

TW: very brief traumatic remembrance of your demise 

Hi hi! You’ve reached the ever-diligent Miss Hunter’s voicemail. I’m probably out on a mission right now so I’m unable to respond but I’ll get back to you ASAP if you drop me a message instead!  

A soft chuckle warms the air in fond recollection to hear your voice. The knot of Caleb’s brow furrowing deeper as he tries to imprint that cheery voice into his skull to overwrite the sounds of your pained screams still knelling within his ears.  

Before he clears his throat to begin.  

Hello to you too, pipsqueak.  

It’s your 25th birthday today and I thought I’d record this little memento for us. 

Happy Birthday, my tiny hurricane of disaster. I really miss you, you know, even if you don’t seem to.  

He chuckles in resignation. 

I should’ve let you bother me more often if I knew you were going to be this terrible at keeping in touch with your best friend later.  

We really didn’t have much time together once I returned from my posting abroad. Work kept you so busy.  

I should’ve scolded you more often about taking appropriate breaks in between missions. God.  

A gentle laugh resounds on the other end of the line. 

Reprimanding you like a dad used to be Zayne’s job among us three, not mine.  

The tiniest of fractures slip into his voice. 

Anyway, I’ve kept to my side of the bargain we made while I was away from Linkon; to leave you regular voice messages about my day and I guess the habit’s just... stuck.  

I visited the grocery store earlier to shop for ingredients to whip up your favourite parmesan risotto tonight.  

It was almost like you were with me, you know.  

With each item I passed by; from the strawberries you love to inhale to your favourite cola displayed, front and center, within their fridge. I almost picked one up for you before I— 

He visibly halts himself, his breathing somewhat erratic. Before he resumes once more. 

That nice kid you’re friendly with was manning the counter today and he recognized me almost instantly. All thanks to being towed around the Supermart with you, no doubt. 

He even gave me a nice discount on the items when I told him I was whipping up a birthday dinner for you.  

A short pause. 

The risotto was pretty good, if I do say so myself. I wish you could’ve tasted it too.  

Sorry I didn’t bake a birthday cake for you this year because it’s just me in the house now. 

I don’t have a certain cute girl, with a crazy sweet tooth, to eat it with me and you know I’m not really fond of sweets.  

His voice drops into a hushed sound, wrought with emotion. 

Time flew by so fast. It seems like only yesterday when we were both kids, huddled around a coffee table with you trying your best to blow out the candles on the cake Grandma baked for us on your birthday.

He laughs softly.

You had a difficult time growing up because of your heart but you were always so brave.  

I wish I could’ve spoiled you more often. If only I knew then that our time together would be so short.  

His voice breaks into a slight tremor.  

Your Caleb really misses you... every day of my excruciating life. 

But... I hope that now... wherever you are, you aren’t in pain anymore. 

If there is a life after this one, I hope you let me find you in it, too. 

I love you, little spitfire.  

End of voice message. 

Xavier

TW: space travel, personal logging of a journey, self-imposed isolation and neglect

Transcript:

Hi there, you’ve reached my voicemail as I’m unable to attend your call at the moment. Leave a message after the beep and I’ll be sure to get back to you soon! 

Hi to you too, angel.  

It’s been a while since I’ve left you a message, hasn’t it?  

I’m sorry, I’ve been facing some turbulence anomalies ever since my ship hit the Bode’s galaxy so I’ve been a bit occupied.  

Where were we last time?  

Ah, I told you how Jeremiah’s shop has been thriving on Earth lately, because I remembered you saying you wanted to know how he was doing the last time we spoke.  

You never got the chance to see for yourself after.  

He pauses.  

I didn’t want to tell you at the time because you and Jeremiah really seemed to be growing close as friends and that bothered me.  

Forgive me? 

A shift of gears sounds within the quiet interior of the spaceship as Xavier adjusts a few controls.  

I know these logs will never reach you but I still want to talk to you about our journey.  

I never...  

His voice drops; the sliver of a whisper.  

got to show you this small planet I found while out on my travels, a long time ago. I named it Uluru. It’s a red rock planet, you see.  

I told you about it once and you said you’d really like to go see it someday. “Xavier’s own planet,” you said.  

I think you were teasing me then. But I wanted to tell you, it’s not just Xavier’s planet but “Xavier and MC’s little planet”.  

I didn’t have the chance to show it to you while you were still— 

A violent catch of breath followed by a soft curse, cleaves through the quiet. 

A low exhale before that quiet voice picks up once more. 

Uluru is reaching the end of its life soon after all these lightyears and I wanted to go together with you to see our planet one last time before it died.  

As for what I’ll do after...  

A pause and a thoughtful hum, follows. 

I think I’ll stay there once I’ve witnessed its demise.  

Earth no longer has any springs for me to return to now that you’re gone and Philos — well I can’t return to that place anymore.  

So, I think I’ll stay, among the ruins of the place that was supposed to be our home.  

With you. 

End Notes: Thank you for reading! I know many of us wept about how we wished for God to take all of Zayne’s pain and give it to us instead so here I am, happy to do exactly that. 😇 Happy Zayne story branch release, y’all. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated if you are so inclined, lovelies!

Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical

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If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ SUPER RICH KIDS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is back home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, weight mentions

finally.

you’d think after everything that someone has gone through in this house, stepping back through those doors would be the last thing she’d want. but she wasn’t going to lie.

yn felt at peace.

because in the moon mansion, she could be who she truly was and not feel bad about it.

a rich girl.

“lunch will be ready soon,” jia’s voice broke through the peaceful quiet as yn lay sprawled on her pink towel by the pool.

yn let out a contented sigh, lifting her sunglasses and pushing her hair back. “thanks, jia. what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“you already attended the press conference with your father, so that’s off your list. your brothers will be going to the one tomorrow, so all you’ve got left is golfing with your members.”

the happy, serene soundtrack in yn’s head came to a screeching halt as she shot up from her towel.

“what?!”

“your mother didn’t tell you? she thought it’d be a good idea for you to invite them, so she reached out while you were out with your father,” jia said, her expression full of concern. she didn’t understand. shouldn’t yn be excited?

“when does she ever tell me anything?” yn grumbled, flopping back down on her towel childishly “jia, during dinner, add a splash of vodka to my mango juice. maybe the alcohol will keep me from flipping the table.”

jia chuckled softly, fondness in her eyes for the girl she’d watched grow up. “when has that ever helped anything? i’ll check on lunch.”

yn groaned as jia walked away. this was supposed to be her escape. chaewon is going to have a field day with this.

it seems like nothing can ever go yn’s way.

dinner was quiet. but that was hardly unusual. as far back as yn could remember, dinner had never been family bonding time

bonding didn’t even exist in this family.

the unspoken rule was simple: eat in silence, speak only when necessary.

honestly, yn found the quiet pretty peaceful. just eating, no forced conversation.

but it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand seeing her at peace—ever.

maybe that was an exaggeration, but yn firmly believed it.

“you seem tense, yn,” jae said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a slow sip from his drink. “something bothering you? got a problem with someone?”

yn gripped her fork tightly, slowly lifting her gaze from her plate. “i do, actually. and for once, it’s not with you, dickhead.”

“language,” their father muttered, eyes never leaving the documents he’d brought to the table.

“oh really, who’s ahead of me?” jae asked clearly liking the banter him and yn are having at the moment.

“I won’t disclose any details just as yet.”

daeun rolled his eyes at his siblings, then, deciding to break the silence since everyone seemed eager to chat, he asked, “so, mom, how was your day?”

their mother beamed at the question, her smile bright and warm. oh, how she adored her son. yn couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“it was amazing, honey. i was just reading an article about your sister’s group.”

“oh, really?” jae responded with mild interest.

“yes! that yunjin member mentioned how she always makes sure the other girls eat and stay healthy. isn’t that wonderful? yn, you have such lovely members.”

as far as yn was concerned, yunjin had never once asked if she was eating properly. but that wasn’t what set her off, she had kazuha who always checked in on her.

it was the nerve her mother had to praise yunjin for something like that—the same person who was the root cause of yn’s so-called “problem.”

“is that why you invited them over tomorrow—without asking me?”

yn hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but her mother’s comment set her off.

her mother furrowed her eyebrows at yn’s tone. “yes, actually. they seem like lovely girls. i was going to suggest you invite those ai girls you’re so fond of, but your judgment isn’t always the best, so i made the decision for you.”

the screech of yn’s chair echoed through the dining room. “i’m not hungry anymore, because clearly no one in this family respects me. may i be excused?”

“sure,” her father said casually, taking a sip of his wine.

“oh, come on, yn! let’s not fall back into those habits,” jae teased.

”fuck you jae!”

“language.”

“you don’t like them, do you?”

yn lifted her head from her pillow, turning slowly to see daeun standing at her door.

“what?”

“the girls in your group. you don’t like them.”

she watched as he stepped forward and sat at the edge of her fluffy bed. “you wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were the girls from sm.”

yn hated how daeun could always read her. they barely talked nowadays, but he still knew his little sister like the back of his hand.

“it’s not that I don’t like them. they don’t like me. no matter how much I lower myself or how nice i act, it’s like they can’t get over the fact that i’m a moon.”

“you lowered yourself for them?”

yn’s eyes flicked up from her lap to see jae standing at the door, disappointment written across his face.

she nodded, feeling a wave of shame. they were raised to believe they were better than everyone else, and here she was, bending over backward for girls who didn’t even like her.

“well, that was your first mistake,” jae said, shaking his head as daeun nodded in agreement.

“you’re dimming who you are to make them feel comfortable, and they’re taking advantage of that,” daeun added, hitting the nail on the head. yn hated how right he was.

“i know you, yn. you’re a bitch—a real one,” jae said with a smirk, earning an eye roll from her. “just be who you are. that’s how you’ll show them. it seems like they can’t stand the fact that you were always going to be successful, idol or not, and they hate that.”

“woah.” yn blinked in disbelief, looking between her brothers. “for once, you two actually make sense.”

“see? a bitch.”

yn adjusted the dior sunglasses perched atop her head, then straightened her pink ralph lauren golf dress before turning to jia.

“why are they taking so long? it’s a gated community,” she complained, tapping her foot as she stood in front of her expansive front lawn.

“patience is key, miss moon. the van is pulling up,” jia replied calmly.

yn felt anxiety creep in but quickly reminded herself of her brother's words. this wasn’t the dorms; this was her turf, the place where yn excelled.

the first person to step out of the van was kazuha, who immediately sprinted toward her.

“zuha!”

“you look so cute! i love your dress,” kazuha gushed, her eyes scanning yn’s outfit she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed yn looked, she was completely in her element.

“thanks! my dad got it. it’s vintage!” yn beamed.

“of course he did.” yn already knew who that could be.

as she looked past kazuha, she noticed the rest of the girls gazing at her house in awe, it was kinda awkward seeing them, especially after the last time, but yn was just gonna pretend like that day never happened.

yunjin nudged chaewon, nodding toward jia, who narrowed her eyes at chaewon, causing the latter's eyes to widen.

chaewon hadn’t realized someone else was there.

yn couldn’t help but smile at that. “this is jia, the help.”

the girls nodded politely, while kazuha waved, causing yn to furrow her brows. “bow?”

the girls’ eyes widened at the unexpected demand but quickly bowed their heads.

“we treat the help with great respect around here,” yn said sternly . “so take note of that for next time.”

kazuha smiled at yn while the others nodded, a mix of confusion and compliance on their faces.

“so, who’s ready to golf?” yn asked, flashing a sweet smile.

“you guys suck,” yn laughed, watching the girls struggle with their golf swings.

“well, not everyone has been doing this since birth,” chaewon shot back, rolling her eyes.

“you’re so right! it would take a lot to be like me, wouldn’t it?” yn teased, nudging chaewon’s side causing the girl to stumble “your form is horrendous.”

she strolled over to eunchae, adjusting the younger girl’s stance, then moved on to yunjin.

chaewon’s gaze drifted down yn’s body, taking in her outfit of course, she didn’t even know people actually wore dresses like that these days.

she was about to make a snarky comment when a loud shout interrupted her.

“ignore them it’s just the golf boys,” yn said as she corrected sakura’s form.

chaewon rolled her eyes when she heard the boys calling out yn’s name in a flirty tone.

“passed around?”

yn groaned at chaewon’s words. “I’ve only talked to them a handful of times. I barely know them.”

“i talk to the caddy girls a lot, though,” yn added, causing kazuha to laugh while chaewon scrunched her face in distaste.

“do you want my help with your form?” yn asked chaewon, raising an eyebrow.

“definitely not.”

“okay, then continue embarrassing yourself.”

chaewon opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a woman’s voice.

“yn!”

the girls turned to see yn’s mother approaching, and yn groaned, rolling her eyes. “why is she here?” she mumbled to herself.

the girls recognized the woman—it was yn’s mother.

“hey, ladies! I hope you’re having fun and that yn is being a good host,” she said with a bright smile.

the girls greeted yn’s mom with polite smiles, and she continued, “I just wanted to drop off some cute gifts i got for you all. I completely forgot about them! I had to stop the driver we just left from going to lunch.”

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

yn couldn’t remember them ever holding something for her achievements, and she had plenty. “right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

the girls exchanged awkward glances; they had never seen yn like this before.

“don’t act like that. god, you’re just like your father,” her mother said, brushing off yn's feelings.

yn clenched her jaw. “is that all? you just came by to drop off gifts?”

“yes, and i wanted to check on you. stop being so moody! just like your dad. my boys are more like me,” her mom said with a smile, prompting awkward laughter from the girls.

“you see how she argues with me, such a daddy’s girl, she looks like a girl version of him as well doesn’t she?.” her mother laughs causing yn to look at chaewon who looks at back at her with a blank face.

“how about you go back to your boys? they’re probably waiting for ‘mommy’,” yn snapped, glaring at her mother.

she had never spoken to her mother this way before, but as she got older, her respect for the woman had diminished. she barely considered her mother a mom anymore.

“yes, i have to go. we’re going shopping to pick out suits for your father and brothers.”

yn felt as if she had been punched in the gut. family shopping—without her? everyone knows yn loves shopping.

“did you plan that too?” she shot back.

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

the girls’ eyes widened at her mother’s words, but yn remained unfazed on the outside.

inside, however, yn felt the sting. she tried to pretend she didn’t care about her mom’s opinion, but deep down, she knew she’d spend extra time on her diet after that.

“anyway, I have to go. it was nice seeing you girls! i hope you like the gifts,” her mother said before walking away.

the girls turned to yn, who stared at her mother’s retreating figure before turning back to them.

“I just love my perfect life, don’t ’ I chaewon? now let’s work on your imperfect form.”

[aventurineswife]

A scenario where the character has to work on a mission with the reader, but turns out, the reader was a spy who ends up betraying them. They get into a heated fight, and the character ends up having the upper hand. Now, they have to kill the reader, and they have the best shot. But they're hesitating, unable to kill them because of all the things they went through. Questioning the reader and demanding if it was all a lie and if they were just a heartless monster. Reader ends up revealing that their time together was real and was readers' feelings for the character. (Veritas, Kaveh, Moze, Aventurine, Kinich, Topaz, and any other character you see fit). (Spy and agent au?).

Between Lies and Longing

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Moze x Reader, Topaz x Reader, Kinich x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Betrayal, Espionage, Intrigue, Enemies-to-Lovers (kinda?), Emotional Conflict, Moral Dilemmas, Action, Romance, Tension, Emotional Angst, Unrequited Love, Forbidden Love, Redemption Arc Potential.

Warnings: Betrayal, Violence, Intense Emotional Conflict, Themes of Deception, References to Family Threats and Coercion, Mild Blood and Injury Descriptions, Existential Trust Issues, Emotional Manipulation.

The dimly lit library was silent, save for the sound of hurried footsteps as Ratio sifted through tomes and scrolls. You were by his side, your sharp mind and quick wit a perfect match for his own. Tasked with retrieving classified documents on the Guild’s enemies, you both worked seamlessly, an intellectual symphony of logic and strategy.

As the mission neared its climax, the betrayal unfolded. You revealed your allegiance to the very forces the Intelligentsia Guild sought to destroy, stealing the precious documents.

“Was this your plan all along?” Ratio’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. His fiery eyes—bore into yours. His usually composed demeanor was now fractured, his confidence teetering on disbelief.

The fight that followed was a clash of brilliance and desperation. His movements were precise, his calculations flawless, and it wasn’t long before he had you pinned, his weapon—a sharp ceremonial blade—pressed against your throat.

“You had me fooled,” Ratio hissed, his voice a mix of anger and pain. “Was I just a pawn in your grand scheme? Was everything we shared a lie?”

Your voice wavered. “No, it wasn’t. My mission… it required deception, but you—our time together—was real.”

His grip on the blade faltered. He stared into your eyes, searching for the truth amidst the chaos. “Why should I believe you? You’ve betrayed everything I stand for!”

Tears welled in your eyes as you whispered, “Because despite my orders, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. I’ve fought against my feelings for you, but they’re real. I never wanted it to end like this.”

Ratio’s hand trembled as he lowered the blade. He turned away, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. “I should kill you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’ve destroyed my trust. But if what you say is true… perhaps ignorance is the real enemy.”

He left you tied, taking the documents back to the Guild. But even as he walked away, his heart was heavier than ever, burdened by the bitter truth that love and betrayal had become intertwined.

The moonlight filtered through the ruins where Moze and you worked together on a covert mission. The air was heavy with anticipation as you infiltrated the enemy stronghold. Moze’s quiet precision was matched by your adaptability, and for once, he allowed himself to trust someone else fully.

When the ambush came, it was devastating. You revealed yourself as the spy, striking at the heart of his mission.

Moze’s voice was cold and quiet, his eyes narrowing. “You…” he whispered, a tremor of anger in his tone. “You were one of them all along.”

The fight was brutal and intimate. His movements were fluid, each attack calculated to disable rather than kill, despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. When he finally cornered you, his blade pressed against your chest, his voice cracked.

“Why?” he demanded, his tone laced with both hurt and fury. “Why betray me? Was I nothing but a means to an end?”

Your chest heaved as you met his gaze, tears streaming down your face. “No,” you said. “I… I never meant to hurt you. It started as a mission, but I—I fell for you, Moze. You have to believe me.”

He hesitated, his grip tightening before loosening again. “You expect me to trust you now?” His voice was barely a whisper, filled with bitterness.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” you admitted. “But everything I said, everything I felt—it was real. I was ordered to betray you, but I couldn’t bring myself to end it this way.”

For a long moment, Moze was silent. Then, he stepped back, his blade lowering. “You don’t deserve my mercy,” he said, his voice hollow. “But I can’t bring myself to kill you. Not after everything.”

The casino’s lights glittered in the distance as you and Aventurine worked together to infiltrate the IPC’s enemies. His charm and cunning made him a brilliant partner, but his guarded nature had always intrigued you.

When you revealed your betrayal, his reaction was surprisingly calm. He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “A spy? I should have known. Still, I didn’t think you’d have the guts to betray me.”

The ensuing fight was a dazzling display of skill and deception. Aventurine danced around your attacks with an almost theatrical flair, his movements fluid and precise. When he finally disarmed you, pinning you against the wall, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“Tell me, darling,” he said, his tone dripping with venom, “was any of it real? Or were you playing me the whole time?”

“It was real,” you said, your voice breaking. “Every moment with you was real. I never wanted to hurt you, Aventurine. But I had no choice.”

He laughed bitterly, stepping back but keeping his weapon trained on you. “No choice? Everyone has a choice. You just made the wrong one.”

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, the flicker of doubt that betrayed his internal struggle. “Kill me if you must,” you said. “But know that I never lied about how I felt for you.”

He lowered his weapon, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible gambler,” he muttered. “But I’m not about to play executioner tonight. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

The IPC’s debt retrieval mission was in full swing, and you and Topaz were an unstoppable team. Her sharp intellect and unyielding determination were inspiring, and for a time, you forgot about your ulterior motives.

When you revealed your betrayal, she reacted with a mix of shock and fury. “I trusted you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I brought you into my world, and this is how you repay me?”

The fight was intense, her speed and precision matched by your desperation. When she finally subdued you, her weapon—a blade infused with IPC tech—hovered inches from your throat.

“Was it all a lie?” she demanded. “Every laugh, every moment—was any of it real?”

“It was real,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I didn’t want to betray you, Topaz. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her hand trembled as she held the blade. “You always have a choice,” she said, her voice breaking. “But maybe… maybe I’m not as heartless as you.”

She stepped back, lowering the blade. “Run,” she said. “And don’t ever let me see your face again.”

Yet, when he found the vault empty and your shadow slipping through the exit with the stolen data, everything crumbled.

[Credits to @d-june-y]

The rain poured heavily as Kaveh crouched behind a dilapidated wall in the abandoned warehouse, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. The mission had been simple: infiltrate and retrieve classified intel. Kaveh wasn’t one for espionage, but the higher-ups insisted his expertise in decoding architectural blueprints would be invaluable. And with you, his trusted partner, at his side, he believed this mission would go off without a hitch.

Now, as he cornered you at the edge of a rusted catwalk, the betrayal cut deeper than any blade.

“Why?” Kaveh’s voice cracked as he raised his weapon. His normally soft expression was twisted with anger and disbelief. “Why would you do this? I trusted you—we trusted each other.”

You clutched the flash drive tightly, your breathing uneven. “It’s not what you think, Kaveh—”

“Don’t!” He stepped closer, his gun aimed at your chest. “Don’t lie to me again. Was everything just… a setup? Every moment, every smile—was it all fake?”

Your silence stretched, the tension suffocating. Then, in a sudden move, you lunged. Kaveh reacted instinctively, disarming you with a precision that spoke of your countless training sessions together. He pinned you against the railing, his breath ragged, the barrel of his gun pressed to your temple.

“Tell me it was real,” he demanded, his voice trembling. “Tell me that you weren’t just playing me. Please…”

Tears brimmed in your eyes, and you finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “It was real, Kaveh. Every moment we spent together, every laugh, every late-night conversation… all of it. I didn’t want to betray you, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” he snapped, though his grip on the gun faltered.

“They have my family,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “If I didn’t do this, they would have killed them. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Kaveh’s breath hitched. The weight of your confession pressed down on him, and for the first time since the chase began, he hesitated. Lowering the gun slightly, he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you. We could’ve figured this out together.”

“Because I couldn’t drag you into this,” you replied, a tear slipping down your cheek. “You’re too good for that… for me.”

Kaveh stepped back, lowering his weapon completely. The storm outside seemed to echo the turmoil in his heart. His shoulders slumped as he whispered, “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

In the silence that followed, Kaveh made his decision. “Take the flash drive,” he said finally, his voice hollow. “Save your family. But when this is over… I’ll be waiting. And you’d better come back to me.”

You stared at him in disbelief, his selflessness cutting deeper than any wound. Gripping the drive tightly, you nodded. “I will.”

Kinich’s eyes locked onto yours as the jungle canopy loomed above. The ambush you had sprung moments ago left him bruised and bleeding, but it was your betrayal that cut the deepest.

As you disappeared into the shadows, Kaveh sank to his knees, the rain mixing with his tears. He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, but for now, he chose to believe that the connection you shared was more than just a lie.

“Was this your plan all along?” Kinich’s voice was cold, venom laced in every word. “To play the loyal partner, only to stab me in the back when the time came?”

You held your weapon tightly, heart pounding as he circled you like a predator. “Kinich, you don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “Why would you sell me out to the very people we’ve been fighting against?”

The silence was deafening, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. When you didn’t respond, Kinich lunged, knocking the weapon from your hands. He pinned you against a tree, his grip ironclad as he glared down at you.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Was everything between us a lie? The nights by the fire, the promises—was any of it real?”

You winced at the pain in his voice, the rare vulnerability cracking through his stoic facade. “It was real,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Every second of it.”

Kinich’s grip faltered for a moment before he tightened it again, his distrust palpable. “Then why betray me?”

“They have something on me,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “My past… my family. If I didn’t deliver you, they would’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever loved.”

“You should have trusted me,” Kinich growled, his tone filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. “We could’ve fought them together.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” you replied, tears streaming down your face. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of me.”

Kinich stared at you for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Slowly, he released his grip, stepping back as he sheathed his blade.

“You’re a fool,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual edge. “But so am I for letting you get this close.”

You hesitated, unsure if his mercy was genuine or a trap. “Kinich—”

“Go,” he interrupted, his back turned to you. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

You lingered for a moment, knowing you’d just lost the only person who ever truly understood you. With a heavy heart, you vanished into the jungle, leaving Kinich alone with the weight of your betrayal.

As he watched your shadow disappear, Kinich tightened his fists, vowing that if he ever saw you again, he’d demand more than just answers. He’d demand the truth.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hii! Can i request some fluff with Woftik?

Stars Shine Through The Darkness

Pairing: Woftik (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3066

Summary: In the north pole of Yautja Prime, lives only a select few clans, let alone yautjas that bare the below freezing temperatures. Though the land is pretty barren for anything green to grow, there are still sights to go explore. Including a cave. Only to find out you weren't alone in that cave.

Author Note: Okay... this isn't the most fluffiest thing for Woftik buttttt my hand started to write and I went along with it. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Ao3

Wind howled over the mouth of the cave. The day’s weather suddenly turning for the worst. A scowl etched into your features at the notion that the plans for exploration was bested by Yautja Prime. The thick fur scarf covered the majority of your expression from the broad figure.

A downward cast of his near black eyes caught your gaze. The white Yautja was dressed properly for this and made a noise of mirth. He bent at the waist and gingerly bonked his forehead to yours. The brim of your fur-lined hoodie prevented any pain.

“Worry not, my mate. This slight will not prevent our travel into the caves bowels,” Woftik promised with a soft purr. “You wished to explore and we shall.” Your scowl washed away by your excitement once more. A new twinkle in your shining eyes. His gloved hand cupped your covered cheeks. The bare tip of his thumb swept across the hint of your cheekbone. A shudder racked your body at the biting cold that nipped from his frozen finger tips.

“We can still go? The twin don’t be an issue?” You had no clue how the cave may react to such weather as the battering winds that wanted to steal you from the ground. It always happened after a terrible storm. Like the terrible after taste of Tequilla that burns the back of your throat. Horrible and ungodly.

Woftik shook his head. His own hoodie protected the majority of his features from the biting wind. His short tresses tucked away safely. “Once we pass through the first chamber, the wind is diverted down a different, much smaller entrance.” The cave had been formed to wield any strong gusts out of its bowels. “Plus, I promised you this, little one. Since the Great Hunt will start in two days time, I wish to fulfill my promise first.”

You couldn’t help the shudder that ran a course down your spine.

The Great Hunt. Where at least one life always falls to join the eternal hunt beneath the surface of Yautja Prime. And that one Yautja could be your mate not returning home. Where his body shall be burned and returned the hunting lands he grew up on.

This was Woftik. Chief of a clan many don’t expect to survive in conditions such as these. He would always prevail.

His gloved hand fell away from your cheek. Instead of dwelling of the dangers in two days, you smiled and forced it to reach your eyes. “Then, what are we waiting for? The wind to force our hand into the caves?” you teased him then gripped his hand. It only took, at best, a minute tug to get him to follow you into the dark depth of the cave.

Then, Woftik helped guide you through the first section of the cave.

This cave wasn’t as traversed as other but it was well documented. Every last corner that a Yaujta could had been explored. It wasn’t all that special as any other cave went. Yet, it was something different compared to the barren, white, snowy lands of Woftik’s tribe resides in. So, you, of course, begged your mate to take you to one. Just to explore, to see something new and get you out of the hut.

Of course, Woftik couldn’t say no to you. Not when you pushed out your bottom lip and gave a sweet doe look. And that’s how you ended up here, wrapped up and swaddled in the necessary clothing.

Snow and ice quickly gave way to sone and rock. The studs on the bottom of your boots bit into the uneven pathway. You were thankful that they had been gifted to you. Or else, the first step into here would’ve landed you on your ass.

Despite the snow outside intensifying the sun’s light, with one curse, the cave instantly grew dark. The temperature was noticeably even colder the first twenty steps inside. You clutched to Woftik’s hand and ensured the tips of his fingers didn’t freeze off. The male squeezed your hand back.

Once the light had grown to sparse for you to see, Woftik pulled out a flashlight. Bright, white light instantly filled the cave, showing off your path to a chamber. You licked at your dry, cracking lips and peek around the fur-lined brim of your hoodie at Woftik. He feels your gaze on him immediately and turns his attention to you. A brow raised.

“I was wondering… who all was coming to the hunt?” you asked him, feeling nervous to be talking about it at all. Was it going to be one you knew? Someone close who’s body they’ll burn and spread the ashes across the lands they grew up in? Yet not knowing is worse than knowing in your opinion. Because you can at least accept the gut punch afterwards.

Woftik grunted and card his fingers between yours the best they could do to the size difference and the gloves. “The new group of blooded shall be joining. Eager for the hunt, they are.” The rocks and some ice crunch under your boots. Then, he began to list off about seven names. Three of which you would consider yourself close with. You winced.

Though, it was more likely the younger ones were the ones to perish. Less experience. In this field, experience outweighs everything.

It was an experience that you’ve only been around three times to know about. The only plus you saw about it was the meat, fur, and bones. Massive bones they used to make their huts. No trees could grow up in such a harsh land. Bones was the next best option.

Every year, you beg for him not to leave you. No one else was sworn to ensure your life to live and safety to continue. A new chief would be appointed only minutes after his death. They wouldn’t be bound to you in the same manner you are to Woftik. You feared the cage some may return you to.

Lost in your thoughts, the tug on your hand had you snapping back to reality. You stumbled back and glanced up at Woftik, ready to ask what’s the problem. Only to shut your mouth quick. The determination and focus in his face had you tensing up. You followed his gaze and blinked a few times at what blocked your path.

A tiny softball sized… spider? Some sort of insect-like adorn in white and blue. It stood in the middle of the cave’s pathway. Black eyes stared directly at the two of you. You shuddered at the sight and inched closer to Woftik who hadn’t move a muscles. Was he, too, terrified of spiders as well?

“Run,” he growled lowly and released your hand to draw a simple hunting knife. What? Like the idiot you are, you stood there, eyes darting between the spiderling and the side of Woftik’s face. “Run!” The order and demand to obey in his voice laid thickly over you. You finally find it in you to spin on your heel, ready to bolt to the entrance only to gasp.

“Woftik,” you said his name in warning and took a couple of steps back. Said white Yautja glances over his shoulder. Hundreds of these spiders covered the cave walls.

“C’jit,” he grumbled then scooped an arm around your waist. Swiftly, Woftik tosses you onto his shoulder and bolts further into the cave. A scream leaves your mouth as all the these spider-like creature give chase, screeching. The sound pierce the cold, frigid air. All you could do was clutch onto Woftik as he ran for the sake of your lives.

The deeper he went, the more hope you lost of ever returning to the surface. His bulky frame easily carried him and you into the dark tunnel. The spiderlings barely kept up. They scrambled over each other in hopes of sinking their fangs into either of you.

“We’re going the wrong way!” you screamed at Woftik. A yelp escaped your lips when one was able to leap for far too close for comfort. You scrambled to lean away, anything to make sure it didn’t land on you.

A deep growl came from Woftik who tightened the arm pinning your legs to his chest. “They were blocking our route, if you happened not to notice, little mate.” At any other moment, you would’ve smacked him. “There are other routes out of here.”

Okay, that did increase your chances of survival.

The flash light was grasped in the hand that held your legs and pointed at the ceiling. It offered enough light to see the horde chasing you two. You screamed as a white blur leapt once more and landed on your shoulder. It’s horrible legs gripped sharp barbs into the thick fabric of your jacket, ripping it. The thing was quick to start tearing at your clothing. You wildly beat at it.

“Oh my god! Get off of me,” you screeched and scrambled in Woftik’s grasp to free yourself of the horrible thing.

“Stop flailing,” Woftik barked then reached up, blindly feeling for the creature. It noticed the movement. Instantly it’s small form leapt to his hand and sunk its fangs into the thinner material of his gloves. Woftik smashes it against the wall while running.

Dark blue blood sprays out with its inners staining the rock and his gloves. He makes no worry about his own neon green blood joining the mess of his glove now. You unsteadily settled back down. Your body shaking despite his firm grasp on you.

All of his wild turns don’t discourage the insects. Worst of all, they only continue to creep closer. You’ve beat more off of him and yourself but more of them replace them.

When Woftik takes a rather sharp corner, the studs in his boots can’t prevent him from slipping. His entire left side slams into rock. Your head ricochet off of it. Pain blasts to life inside your head. A cry leaves your lips as you curled up over Woftik’s shoulder.

For a moment, you feel weightless then gravity chains you. Still in his arm, Woftik does his best to curl his body around you before slamming into something hard but it too gives way.

Bitter, gnawing cold consumes your whole body. Swallows you into its freezing depths. The involuntary gasp you makes fills your lungs with something other than air.

Panic.

Instinct drove you to fight. For survival.

Your limbs unfurled and clawed through the liquid you’ve ben plunged into. You open your eyes only to find nothing but more pain straight to your head. An ill attempt of a cry leaves your lips but it wasn’t a noise. Just forcing out the liquid out and taking in more.

Something hauls you in a random direction. A firm grasp on your forearm. The water you were submerged in was gone but that cold was still there. It nearly drowned out the pain in your head. But you still couldn’t see despite knowing your eyes were opened.

Liquid and bile surged past your lips. Hands helped you to lean on your side. More came, wracking your body with cough and spews until you were dry-heaving, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

Same hands began to peel off the drenched, useless clothing that stuck to your form like a glove. Your shaking didn’t go down, not even after you were able to comprehend what was happening. What scared you the most was you still couldn’t see and the terrible pain pounding in your head.

The touch you recognized.

“Woftik?” you croaked out and reached blindly through the inky black for something, anything.

“I’m here. I’m here,” his familiar voice soothed over you. You tried to relax your muscles but the cold has locked them in a steel hold. “I’m going to move. But I will not leave.” A promise that you used to warm up your heart from the cold that grips it. You sense him move away from your trembling body. Your teeth clattering so much that you feared one may break.

There was a rustling a few feet from you until Woftik’s hands were hauling you up against him. His usually blazing hot scales were only mildly warmer than you skin. But to you, it felt like fire. A fire you were desperate to have. You curled up the best you could to him as Woftik began to carry you away from wherever you’ll landed.

“The spiders!” you choked out, head whipping all around but there was no light to be offered.

“They cannot get us here. They fear the water,” he explained and drew away from what sounded like a river. The very one the two of you landed in and about died in.

“Cold,” is all you’ve had to say even though, the trembling of your body was also a obvious sign as well. Woftik’s arms tightened around as if he wants to bury you under his scales and give you his warmth.

“I know. I know.”

Wherever you’ve landed, Woftik can see perfectly. You can feel as you enter a tunnel of sorts. You rest your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. There was no point, you couldn’t see anything in the pitch blackness. His arms are wrapped around you tightly, squeezing you to his body. To give you any sort of warmth his bulky body could offer you. He carries you through another tunnel.

His body tenses up for a moment. You hummed and snuggled deeper into his scales. Only for a soft light to hit your eyelids. For a moment, you didn’t even realize it at first. Thinking it was the cold messing with you, causing you to hallucinate it. Another grumble left your lips then you blinked open your eyes.

Soft blue light shined from behind you. You peered behind your shoulder and gasped. The tunnel went a little deeper but opened up to another chamber. The entire ceiling was covered with something glowing. Bug? Maybe. Your whole body was shaking too much for you to see clearly. The tips of your fingers have long gone frozen like the ice that surrounds this place.

“Just hold on,” he whispered into your ear. That was all you could do. Your limbs frozen like a popsicle and clutching at him, praying he doesn’t drop you. Not that you believe he would.

Soon enough, you were being set down on the frozen floor of the cave. It took him prying your arms and legs off of him to make you let go. You instantly curled up on your side, arms hugging your knees. Your teeth chattering so loud, you feared they crack under the force. Woftik moved away from you. Panic shot through you at the sight of his white form walking away from you. But, you couldn’t stop the chattering of your teeth long enough to cry your mate’s name.

Woftik knelt down a few feet from you and skipped a pack from his shoulders. It was set down and opened to reveal dry items. Relief flooded your tense muscles, sending some licks of warmth into you. Clothing, food, misc. items were pulled from it. It wasn’t much but enough to give you an added hope for survival. He puts some flammable materials into a ball close to you. With a striker, sparks fly towards the pile. He feeds it some air and watches as it grows to a steady flame. Before you had a chance to even move towards the heat.

Your mate grabbed you and dropped you in his lap. His thick arms wrapped around you torso and pulled you pressed against his chest. You crossed your legs on top of his only to feel the heat from the fire licking at your skin. Instantly, you shoved your feet close to the fire. It’s warmth already licking at your skin, slowly unthawing your frozen toes and feet.

If you had more strength, you would’ve struggled against Woftik to throw yourself onto the flames. Said white Yautja kept you secure against his chest, caging you there in his grasp.

Soon enough, the feeling in your limbs started to come back. With a vengeance. A prickling feeling started at the tips of your fingers. You flexed the thawing limbs and whimpered at the pained feeling. Woftik carded his thick fingers between yours and squeezed to get the blood flowing.

“That’s it. Let me warm you up, he murmured into your ear. The fire worked it’s magic. You began to slow your shivering with each passing minute. Woftik would scoot closer and closer as each half how passed. You had stopped shaking at that point. Now, you had been left exhausted.

He laid down with the fire at his side and you laid upon his chest, still stealing what warmth he produced. His large arms wrapped around your torso. Your face buried into his neck, keeping your nose from freezing off.

Your name is softly called. “Look,” he whispered, voice rough with lack of effect. Blearily, you picked up your head and followed his gaze to the ceiling.

Stars. It almost looked like the night sky full of stars blinked high above you. They reflected in your gaze. You gasped softly and perked up higher to straddle higher with your hands on his chest.

“What… what are they?” Hopefully nothing else that wanted to eat you, too. Woftik let his hands slide to the tops of your thighs. His flesh has warmed a considerable amount as yours struggled to fight against the cold.

“Gems. They only need the smallest of light to shine that bright.” The fire was close to dying but its light fed the gems. “This wasn’t on the map though. We must be the first ones down here.” You smiled then shivered and laid back down on his chest.

You didn’t imagine today would end up here; in a cave in a new chamber no one has been before; with beautiful, shining gems above your head. “Hm, at least today wasn’t all that too bad,” you murmured half-mindful and closed your eyes. You couldn’t held the yawn that left your lips. Woftik turned his head and pressed his closed mandibles in a mock kiss.

“Sleep, little mate.” You couldn’t disagree with him and let yourself slip into a deep sleep.

[zablife]

Becoming Mrs. Shelby (Part 20)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: You race against the clock to find something that will help Tommy, but you must face Mary first.

Part 19 Masterlist

The moment the car returned to Arrow House, your feet flew up the stairs. Eyes darting anxiously down the hall for any sign of Mary, you breathed a sigh of relief at the silence that greeted you. Continuing on to the library, you wasted no time attempting to open the mahogany bureau which had once belonged to Grace.

In vain hope of finding one miraculously unlocked, your fingers fumbled against the cool metal of a brass handle. When it did not open, you moved onto the others without success, beginning to despair as they all remained shut tight against your prying. For a moment you considered the force it would take to break one and you stifled a grunt of exertion as you leveraged your full weight against the bottom drawer. Losing your grip, you tumbled to the ground with a thud, wishing you had a copy of the key.

You knew as well as Tommy that Mary held the only set of master keys in the house, a vast collection crowded onto a ring she kept fastened at her side. How would you be able to get at it? It would be impossible without waiting until she fell asleep and stealing it from her room.

As you briefly considered enlisting Clara's help with the theft, your eyes drifted to a nearby clock realizing that plan would take time you didn't have. Finally your eyes rested upon the sterling silver letter opener on the desk. You wouldn't need a key if you picked the lock, you convinced yourself.

Without a clue as to what you were doing, you slid the pointed end into the keyhole, carefully listening for a change in the hollow clinking sounds produced by your prodding. Then, to your great amazement, the letter opener hit upon a latch that freed the drawer instantly. With a tiny squeal of delight, you reached in to extract the manila folders hidden in its depths before repeating the same steps to empty the desk of its contents.

Eagerly flicking through the mountain of paperwork, you skimmed over the pages as quickly as possible, but you fell into confusion over the multitude of names and organizations. You found papers referring to the "Economic League," the "Oddfellows" and one from the "Vigilance Committee." You weren't sure how it was all related until you compared recurring names of business men, MPs and Army officers, realizing they were one and the same with Section D.

Grace appeared to have corresponded with them regularly, providing information about Shelby Co. Limited and Tommy's general whereabouts. She had faithfully recorded all she knew in the pages of a small, red journal before being typed into reports. Most importantly, you uncovered replies from Father Hughes himself, outlining the organizations mission to undermine the current government which allowed the Shelbys freedom.

However, the final document you stumbled upon gave you pause. Noting it was dated the week before Grace's death, you clamped a hand over your mouth in shock as you read the brief, yet significant message. It appeared to be a warning to provide more concrete evidence against the members of the Shelby family. Apparently Tommy had protected them well. Is that why she'd asked for his help? you wondered, grimacing at the thought of her loathsome demand.

A deep foreboding thrummed in your veins as you read the last lines of type, "Failure to achieve your objective will result in final termination. Next of kin will be notified." You gasped in spite of yourself, comprehending the terms of Grace's contract were to kill or be killed.

Oblivious to the sound of the creaking door at your back, you were startled by the outraged voice of Mary. “Shame on you!" she spat, crossing the room to stand before you in obvious fury. "Did you find what you were looking for in Mrs. Shelby's private things?" she scolded.

"This is my house now and I will search every inch of it if I so choose,” you seethed, unafraid of her vitriol.

"To save him?" she sneered, surveying the mass of papers along with the one clutched tightly in your hand. "Well it won't work," she informed you, arms crossed over her chest in defiance.

"We'll see about that," you retorted, plucking important pages from the stacks before you.

 “I knew you'd stand by him," she uttered, poison dripping from her tongue. Lips curved into a sinister smile she pronounced, "Perhaps you do deserve him."

"More than Grace ever did because I actually love him," you declared, chin held high.

Mary snorted at your proud reply noting, "You're nothing more than his instrument, a plaything he uses. Grace was a self reliant woman, free to live her life as she pleased. No wonder a man had to kill her!” she remarked pointedly.

Rebuffing her criticism, you stood tall before her, a calmness washing over you as you addressed her misconceptions about Grace. "It must be hard for you to accept she was fallible, but she made many mistakes. I intend to see them rectified," you informed her.

She stammered at your sudden confidence which seemed to drain her of whatever power she'd once held over you. You used this momentum to deliver the final blow to her ego. “Pack your bags, I expect you gone by nightfall.”

She barely registered the order, though you noted the tight clench of her jaw in response.

Without waiting for her to make the first move, you gathered all the necessary papers into your arms and stalked away, intent on making one last trip before evening.

Cont reading Part 21

[ihni]

For Billy's birthday yesterday (I'll never get enough of birthday fics), only I didn't finish it in time so have it a day late, instead.

~~~

In theory, it shouldn’t have been that surprising to happen upon a drunk Billy Hargrove downtown. It was a Saturday night after all, and back in school Billy had been to just about every party there was and – as far as Steve was aware – still held the keg record to this day.

But the thing was, that things had changed since then. Because in the summer of ’85, Billy had almost died on the floor of Starcourt Mall, and he’d spent months in the hospital afterwards. Steve didn’t exactly hang out with the guy, but he still hung out with the Party and Max was part of the Party so … he heard things. He knew that Billy had been basically eviscerated and then painfully put back together, he knew that the guy had spent the better part of a year struggling to get back to something resembling normal, and he knew that he must have succeeded at least partially because Max had told them that Billy had finally moved out, just a couple of months ago. (He hadn’t moved back to California like everyone had expected, though. Steve suspected it had something to do with the thick pile of documents they’d all been forced to sign after the whole Upside Down debacle.)

Steve also knew that Billy’s doctors didn’t allow him to smoke or drink alcohol anymore, because Max had – on several occasions – complained about her brother’s bad mood and snappish behavior whenever she reminded him of this fact.

So in fact it was surprising to see him now, shuffling along the sidewalk in the middle of town holding a bottle of clear liquor, several hours after the stores closed. Surprising, and a little eerie. At this time of night, downtown Hawkins was pretty much deserted – it wasn’t like it was the entertainment hub of the Midwest, after all – so one single person stumbling down a dark, empty street looked … out of place.

Never mind that Steve was here, too. In his defense, though, he was just driving through town on his way home from dinner at the Henderson house.

And he and Billy may not be friends, but they both knew about the horrors of the world, and Billy had sacrificed a lot to save El (and, in extension, the rest of them). So while Steve didn’t plan on becoming best friends with the guy, he at least owed him to check in with him when he was obviously drunk and alone.

After all, he had being skewered through by the Mind Flayer. It would be a shame if he got killed by something so mundane as being run over by a car or choking on his own vomit after that.

So, Steve rolled to a stop on the side of the road and got out of the car.

“Hey, Billy,” he said, and watched as Billy did a double-take at the sight of him. “How’s it going?”

His answer was a raspy laugh. “Oh this is just perfect,” Billy muttered before motioning widely with his arms and raising his voice. “Steve Harrington, everybody! My night’s complete.”

Ignoring whatever that was supposed to mean, Steve nodded a little awkwardly in the direction Billy had been heading. “Where are you going?”

“What’s it to you?” Billy snapped, but then sighed and answered before Steve got a chance to comment. “Anywhere. Out. I don’t give a fuck.” He seemed to deem that the end of the conversation, and waved lazily with the hand not holding the bottle as he turned to continue walking.

Steve stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. “Hang on, Billy.” Billy ripped out of his grip and glared at him with eyes that had a hard time focusing, and Steve held up his hands in front of him in defense. “I just … do you need a ride?” For some reason, that had Billy barking out another laugh, but seconds passed without an answer so eventually Steve prompted, “Max said you moved out. Do you live nearby?”

The wry smile on Billy’s face turned into a grimace, and he pointed with the bottle in the direction from which he came, almost losing his balance when he shifted his weight. He didn’t look too good, and Steve didn’t have the conscience to leave him out and about all by himself when he didn’t seem to know where he was going. Also, if the police caught him out here with booze, they might throw him in the drunk tank.

“Alright,” Steve said in the same voice he used when trying to get young children to do something. “How about you get in my car, and I drive you home, hm?”

Billy opened his mouth to no doubt argue, but then he just … stopped. Before Steve’s eyes, he visibly deflated. Dropped the bottle so it split on the ground with a crash of broken glass, the liquid within staining the asphalt dark. Steve drew in breath to say something, anything, but Billy beat him to it.

“Okay,” he said, for some reason sounding utterly defeated.

(Read the rest on AO3)

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A (FAKE) DOCTOR’S ORDER — “It’s just a cough.” Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (MLM)

Word count: 1.3k

Contains: MLM, Aventurine x Dr. Ratio, ill Ratio, Aventurine caring for Ratio, not-so-subtle flirting, affection, kissing, cuddles, caresses + more.

A/N: The Aventio/Ratiorine brain worm made me write this. Art cred: @/meronppaii (X)

It was a usual day for Aventurine. After all, he’s always willing to push his luck to see how far he can get. Forcing open the handle of Ratio’s office, he prepares to chime his usual greeting until his eyes meet with a seemingly unconscious torso resting atop the somewhat cluttered desk.

“What the— Are you—” Aventurine pauses, immediately looking around to assess the situation. “Veritas. It’s not funny.”

Despite several attempts of communication, there was still no response. Not even a murmur. Rushing over to the body, his hands fumble as he searches for a pulse. Ratio stirs, a low grumble escaping his lips. Aventurine scoffs, instinctively retracting his hands as Ratio forces himself up straight. 

“Well? What was all that about? I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m—” Before he could finish his sentence, he began uncontrollably coughing, spluttering on his words.

“You look awful. Should you be working like this?”

“It’s just a cough.”

“A cough. Right. There’s no colour on your face. I’ve never seen you look so sick before.” Aventurine leans against the desk, moving the scattered paperwork into the correct piles. “You should get some rest.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do.” Ratio sneers, snatching away the work documents from Aventurine who was likely to have already destroyed their order.

“I’ll get you some tea then.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m sure that wouldn’t help anyone.”

“You know I’m capable of doing things, don’t you? I’ve taken care of myself from a young age. Who do you think looks after me when I get ill?”

“…” Ratio rubs his forehead, recognising his wording may have come across as too snarky. “I don’t like sugar in my tea.”

“I wasn’t putting sugar in it anyway.” Aventurine sighs, a lengthy exhale as he heads towards Ratio’s kitchen. While he won’t directly admit it, the occasional belittlement does sting—like a gash straight across a bare chest. All he wanted to do was help, after all.

An herbal tea intended to soothe clogged sinuses was in the process of being concocted. Whether it be the flu or a cold, it should help ease his airways and prevent further mucus buildup. The tea was steaming, perfected to the best of his ability. Taking the mug, he returns to Ratio’s office, placing it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

“I thought I’d never see the day.” Aventurine snickers, pulling a spare chair to the opposite side.

“This doesn’t—” With the mug hovering by his mouth, Ratio hesitates to take a sip.

“I know. It doesn’t smell good—it doesn’t taste good either. It’s not supposed to.”

With Aventurine’s eyes glued to him, he takes a deep breath and sips the tea. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t as bad as he was anticipating. It was drinkable, to say the least. Despite the warm liquid soothing his throat, the chesty cough persists, making the dull ache in his throat grow stronger.

“I was coming to ask you if you wanted to go out for a drink, but it looks like that will have to wait for another time. Shame.” Aventurine taps a pen against the desk, revealing the doodles left in the corner of Ratio’s notebook. 

“Were you? Or was that part of something you had planned?”

“Oh, how hurtful, Veritas. Can I not take a good friend out for fun anymore?”

“You always have something planned. Do not act coy.”

“Fine. But, the offer for drinks is still on the table. When you’re feeling better, of course.”

“I’ll consider it.” Ratio places the mug down, rising to his feet. His hands clutch the desk, veins protruding as his grip hardens.

“Do you need any—” Aventurine stands, reaching out to stabilise Ratio’s hunched body. A hand swats him away, leaving him standing there unamused.

“Look down.” Ratio speaks, suddenly dishing ominous orders out.

“Where exactly?” Aventurine’s eyes scan Ratio’s lower half, darting from his crotch to his sandals.

“Do you see?”

“See…?” Aventurine cocks his head aside, still unsure of what he’s intended to be looking at.

“I have a pair of functioning legs. I don’t need any assistance with walking.” Ratio brushes past Aventurine as he hobbles towards the door, his forehead pressed against the frame when he eventually makes it.

“You…” Aventurine pinches the skin between his brows, placing his hand in the middle of Ratio’s aching shoulder blades. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Lacking the energy to protest, he grants Aventurine permission to guide him to the bedroom. Now inside of the elegant room after navigating through the winding hallway, Aventurine strides towards the bed, unwrapping Ratio’s arm from around his neck. That’s until he was met with a slight issue. No matter the amount of strength he exerted in trying to pry Ratio’s arm from around him, it wouldn’t budge.

Suddenly, the two bodies topple down onto the mattress. Flustered by the abrupt tumble, Aventurine attempts to scramble from atop Ratio’s body, but the arm remains locking him in place.

“You’re not talking. Do you want me to play doctor or something?” Aventurine gazes down at Ratio whose expression remains unchanged. Somehow, that sight heightens his nerves.

“I feel unwell.” Ratio’s finger twirls around the longer strands of Aventurine’s hair before travelling down his face, cupping his cheek.

“Here, let me check your temperature.” Sweeping back Ratio’s hair, he plants his palm flat against his forehead. “You’re warm.”

“That doesn’t work when your hands are cold. I’m bound to feel warm.” Ratio chuckles, a sweet sound carrying no malice. Redirecting Aventurine’s hand, he leaves it resting on his chest. “You aren’t doing bad. It was a fair try.” 

“You’re being too kind. Are you sure you’re not the one with a secret plan?”

“There is no plan. All that I’m stating is simply the truth.”

Aventurine’s eyes glimmer, his lips curving up as Ratio’s sincere praise replays in his mind. Though they often butt heads, it’s hard to deny that the connection between them exists. Neither one of them is that unintelligent. The ability to suppress their emotions, however, is something they both lack. A force too powerful to combat.

Much like the gem, Aventurine had a beautiful glow to him. His facial features create a composition that works in perfect harmony. Ratio would never admit that though, not outwardly. Perhaps he’ll make him work harder if he wishes to find that information out. He knows he is far more than capable.

Drawing closer, Ratio’s breath ghosts Aventurine’s face. His eyes are locked onto his lips which had been freshly moistened. He wasn’t stupid at all. Closing the distance, their mouths join. Ratio’s breath hitches, readjusting his position as Aventurine leans all of his body weight down. It was always so intense with him; nothing ever starts slow.

Nipping at Ratio’s bottom lip, Aventurine’s tongue meets with his, deepening the kiss drastically. If Ratio wasn’t hot previously, he certainly was now. The heat was radiating from him, causing Aventurine to tug at his own clothes for some air.

Eventually pulling away, Aventurine’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his pupils blown out from the intimate experience shared. His eyes travel down to Ratio’s hands which are gently massaging his hips, thumbs swirling circles across his skin as they slipped under his clothes. A cough sounds out, snapping them both back to reality.

“Wait. Won’t I get sick too?” Aventurine wipes his lips clean, although the action is already irreversible. 

“It’s likely. I’ll take care of you if that’s the case.” Tugging him down by the arm, Ratio traps Aventurine in an embrace, one of his legs wrapped over his. Within seconds, he senses his body relax, his cheek resting on the mess of blond hair on top of him. Aventurine’s heartbeat slows—all feelings and thoughts are overwhelmed by burning compassion. Although he cannot see his face, Ratio can picture the soft expression, regardless of the lack of evidence. “Stay with me tonight.”

[dangraccoon]

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 8 - Shielded

Word Count: 837

Content: canon-typical violence, acceptance of death, injuries, brotherly affection (teasing)

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

Ever since the beginning, it had been something of an unspoken rule that Cody and Kenobi fought side by side unless the battle plan or other necessity separated them. 

And they had been separated for quite a while by heavy bombing early in the day. He hadn’t been sure where his General was, the chaos of the battlefield only cut by the need to go, go go.

A shiny behind him was hit–a shot directly to his right shoulder–and he hauled the brother to his side behind cover. 

“Stay here, stay down,” he ordered. “Medic’ll get you soon.”

The brother nodded with a groan, and Cody jumped up, calling to the others nearby.

“Push forward!” he called. “Move it! Let’s go!”

He raced through the field, firing on the droids before them, then fighting them off hand-to-hand when he was close enough.

“Commander!” someone shouted but it was already too late.

The world around Cody slowed as he watched a B2-HA fire directly at him.

In the precious few seconds left in his life, he could only think of his General and his regret in never getting an answer to the question that had been gnawing at his soul since they’d met.

Though, mostly, he thought of how pissed he was that he didn’t see that clanker.

He didn’t close his eyes–no, he had always wanted to face his inevitable death head on–and he was thankful that he hadn’t, otherwise he might have missed the sight of the person saving his life.

Kenobi appeared out of nowhere, jumping between Cody and the ammunition with his number on it, deflecting the round back to hit the B2 squarely between its optical sensors.

The war raged on around them, back to normal speed. 

Kenobi turned back to face him, his chest heaving. He held his lightsaber off to the side and stretched his left hand towards Cody. It was shaking; Cody had thought at the time it had been due to the strain of the battle, but later he wouldn’t be quite as sure.

Cody accepted his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

“Cody, I-I apologize for knocking you over,” Kenobi half-shouted over the sounds of the battle around them, his hand gripping Cody’s forearm the same way many of the Generals had picked up from the Vode. “I saw the SBD look in your direction and- well, I acted rather without thinking.”

Cody’s head spun so hard that he wondered briefly if he’d hit his head.

“Sir, please don’t apologize for saving my life,” he said, chuckling lightly.

Before long they were called back to the fight and forced to release their slight embrace. As they marched toward the front, Cody noticed the General drop his left hand to his side, flexing it open, closed, open, and closed again.

Now, Cody tapped at his datapad, brow furrowed in concentration.

Despite not having the opportunity to document the latest incident, it had been on loop in his mind since.

“Oh good,” Rex said, appearing in the doorway of the medical bay. “They found you.”

Cody glared at him. “As I told Pulse and Kix, there are others who need medical attention far more urgently–”

“And they’ve already received it,” Kix piped up from the side of the next bed over. “Your leg should’ve been seen to with the second wave!”

Rex chuckled. “What are you so busy with anyway?”

“I’m a Marshal Commander, Rex,” Cody deadpanned. “I have a lot to do.”

“Ah, so it’s the spreadsheet then,” Rex grinned wickedly. At least he had the sense to lower his voice. “What act of hidden love has he performed today?”

“Go kriff yourself, kih’vod,” Cody grumbled. 

“Hm,” Rex said, seeming to consider this. Cody should have known better.

In a flash of chaos, Rex jabbed his fingers against Cody’s side–right where he’d recently had stitches from an incident with some shrapnel–and took advantage of Cody’s distraction to grab the pad out of his hands.

Cody felt a low growl coming from his throat. He cursed the tendency of himself and his batch to adopt tubies back when they were cadets, and how damn copik’la Rex had been at that age. Maker, save me from mouthy kih’vode, he’d always heard Alpha-17 grumble, not realizing he’d soon feel the same.

“Saleucami? You haven’t updated this for two weeks?” Rex asked. “You have been busy.”

Cody merely rolled his eyes.

“He was flexing his hand?” Rex murmured. “What’s that matter?”

Cody swallowed, choosing to find the cot beneath him more interesting than the confused expression on his brother. “I thought, maybe, that his hand might’ve felt the same as mine. That maybe he felt the same as me.”

Rex hummed, his expression a mix of quiet curiosity and practiced neutrality. Cody briefly wondered what had been giving him such practice. “How did your hand feel?” Rex asked.

Cody’s face felt hot. This was much easier to talk about over a comm channel. “It, ah- it was… tingling a little.”

Event: During the last tour on Saleucami, an SBD fired a heavy artillery round in my direction. General Kenobi, who I thought had not been aware of my position, suddenly threw himself between me and the droid to deflect the bolt, forcing me to the ground behind him. Once the droid was dispatched, he offered me his hand, which was shaking. After I stood, he gripped my forearm and apologised for pushing me to the ground, stating that when he saw me in danger he “acted rather without thinking”

Rational Explanation: General Kenobi is a hero whose prowess in battle is matched only by his compassion for his comrades. He is unparalleled in skill and will always protect his men, me included, with his own life, which is incredibly admirable

Irrational explanation: The thought of losing me in battle drives General Kenobi to monitor my position constantly and upon seeing I was in danger, he threw himself in front of me without thinking because he is madly in love with me and would die to protect me as I would for him

Additional notes: After I let go of General Kenobi’s hand, I saw him flex it several times at his side as we walked away

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Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97 @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[grizzly-bear-bane]

WIP Wednesday - Dragon ABO AU

Wolf!Jayce x Dragon! Viktor

ABO, werewolves expanded: "warm-bloods" run Piltover while the "cold-bloods" are forced to build lives for themselves in Zaun

(tw: brief non-con referenced)

__

Summary: Viktor is a dragon caught in the grip of an impending war as a weapon when all he wants to do is go home and be left alone. Jayce is a former enforcer tasked with making sure that never happens. But when Jayce uncovers Noxus and Piltover's plans for Viktor purely by accident, everything changes. Jayce doesn’t have to save the world, he just has to save Viktor. And himself.

+

The house was once an ornate masterpiece, judging by the golden arches and designs accenting the gates and massive double doors, but there vines breaching the balconies and climbing the walls. The gardens had a wild, unkempt quality, the polish of marble floors inside was dull. 

Curiously, there were no family portraits lining the halls, only tapestries of war and conquests. The bull standing tall in leather and metal armor standing guard with a spear just inside of the entrance of the house made sense, his heavy bootfalls and his occasional directions a constant reminder that Jayce wasn’t alone to wander the way he desperately wanted to. There were suits of armor from every territory in Runeterra and through every glass door he could steal a glance through, he could see rooms filled with more trinkets and souvenirs. 

At the foot of old, ornate spiraling stairs, Jayce glimpsed the curation of various breeds of werecreatures’ fur pelts from their shifted forms on the landing above, like just another part of the house’s many collections. It gave him pause, but the guard moved him towards the last room on the ground floor.

Standing in front of a wall of bookshelves, a beautifully dressed, delicate young man smiled at them both, with short, sweptback blonde hair and dapper clothes. The bird's wings were tucked behind him like a colorful angel. 

Jayce stepped forward. He was blocked by the bull’s hand on his chest.

“You can leave your things there,” he was instructed. There was already a satchel on the only bench in the hall close to the door. It was almost as worn as Jayce’s, which surprised him for a place like this. He dropped his own beside it and his rucksack on the floor underneath.

“Mr. Talis,” the bird’s voice drifted from the opened doors of the study, “My name is Salo. I’m glad you accepted my employer’s invitation.” The guard motioned for him to follow.

They joined him where he moved to the towering, ornate windows scaling the wall behind the sleek desk. Gazing out at the pretty flower garden outside, the bird looked so out of place in this house filled with swords and hammers and armors. His wing tips disturbed the dust covering the floor. 

“What is this place?”

His host’s green eyes flashed with amusement, impressed. “Just a little something on loan, for discretion, you understand.”

“If you asked me here to do something illegal for your… ‘employer,’ then I’m sorry to say, you’re a little late on current events in Piltover. I’m no longer an enforcer.”

“Even better. More wiggle room.”

Jayce stepped forward, his hands waving. “I don’t think you understand–”

“I–we–understand perfectly fine, Mr. Talis.” He glanced at one of the many documents on the desk, his delicate hand lingering on a copy of Jayce’s letter of resignation, along with his picture and profile. It was one of many faces and profiles he recognized.

“Why do you have that?”

“You see we had our options, but you were not only the most capable for the job, you are also the most available, Mr. Talis.” He held up his hand before Jayce could say more. “And no, it isn’t for anything illegal… technically, just… again, for her discretion. We don’t want a giant airship transport or a fleet of guards, we just need one capable alpha to escort one thing from Stillwater to our facility in Noxus.”

“A prisoner?”

“Not just any prisoner.” He brushed the enforcers’ files aside, forgotten. “Have a look.” 

The file was only a quickly scribbled list of identification numbers, a record of cell rooms in various holdings, and a list of dated injuries. Clipped to the corner was a single note: Dragon. Omega-male. 5’8 (172cm), 150 pounds (68 centimeters). Jayce frowned. “What’s the problem?”

Salo’s stare was pretty if not the most condescending thing leveled in Jayce’s direction. It was clear he was used to getting his way without having to argue his point. “He requires special handling from someone who isn’t afraid of them, not even a fire-breathing cold-blood, Mr. Talis.”

“What? You’re saying he’s got a mouth on him? Any enforcer should be able to handle hurt feelings.”

Salo twittered out a laugh, reaching to pull the little red and gold computer key on the desk towards them. He snapped his fingers at the guard to set it up, his eyes never wavering in their amused assessment of Jayce.

The computer hummed to life, its glow flickering on the table’s polished surface. The film focused on the first still image. 

Jayce averted his eyes from the image on screen at once. “Why does that guard have his dick out?”

“Watch,” Salo ordered. The bull cranked the dial, cycling through the hundreds of snapshots rapidly, making the images blend together, its subjects moving about fluidly from the camera’s perch near the ceiling in the back corner of the cell, like a motion picture.

Jayce held back his sigh. If he frowned any harder, his face would get stuck like that, just like his mother had always warned, but watching what was clearly about to be a guard assaulting some nothing, little cold-blood and that not being the thing wrong with the recording? He was fine with looking pissed off for the rest of his life. He was really fucking pissed off, actually. 

The guard in the film stepped forward, his hand grabbed the back of the prisoner’s shaggy, dark hair and before the man could bob twice on his dick, a blinding light began to build like a flash from his mouth upwards and out. It turned the whole screen white for a blip of a second before black smoke swirled and a man on fire was running around the room trying to get the locked door open before he collapsed into a burning heap.

“Holy shit,” Jayce whispered, needing to lean on the chair Salo’s guard had ready for him. On the bed, the prisoner sat with his back still turned though the front of his clothes were still visibly singed and burned, but on the floor at his feet, was a body on its back, burned black down to the muscle from its knees up to its head. 

Salo huffed out a laugh that sounded almost amused by the whole ordeal.

In the film, the prisoner simply peeled what was left of the straitjacket away, revealing a strange line of metal implants down his spine. He got to his feet with his hands up, waiting for whatever guards that were on their way to burst through the door with enchanted shields before Salo turned the computer off and pocketed the key. He stood closer, looking up at Jayce, studying him, his brow arched. “Do you see now, Mr. Talis? Even the seemingly vulnerable of those… things from the undercity are vicious, unpredictable… Quite frankly, untamable.”

“What the hell did I just watch?”

“That is some twenty-something-year-old, undercity throwaway who just so happens—”

“I know what he is, but… what… is he?”

“You saw with your own eyes, Mr. Talis,” he said, his hand gently gripping Jayce’s arm. “A dragon. An actual dragon, in our lifetime. From what research we could find, who we assume were his parents were the last two ever recorded this side of Runeterra, out of four, maybe six total in history? Nothing found before that for centuries and nothing since, not until this thing was found a year ago, roaming these very streets.”

“How is any of this possible?—I get the venom stuff for normal cold-bloods, but how is he not cooking himself from the inside out?”

Salo huffed, nodding. “Those cold-blood trenchers  have always had a leg up on us, haven’t they? They’re regenerative. Only, it seems that his regeneration is nothing like the usual ‘lose a limb and grow it back in a few years’. You saw how he also burned himself in that attack. Whatever it is protecting him from his own fire exists solely inside of him. On the outside, however, he heals lightning quick,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “And my employer wants him. You are going to bring him to us.”

“For what?” 

Salo's expression gave him pause enough to take a breath and a half-step back as the guard stepped forward, stopped only by Salo’s hand on the bull’s chest. “That information is not what you’ll be paid for.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “So why not just… put him in a locked pod and have him shipped?”

“Out of the question. We need you to do this as quietly as possible and far away from the hexgates, checkpoints, or shipping yards.”

“Is this off the books?”

“Piltover and Noxus have a deal. The other territories vying for him do not and are not above raiding a shipping container to steal him. I’ve heard you’re the best Piltover has—or was—for this type of operation. You don’t work well with others,” he counted on his fingers, “you’re stubborn to a fault, reckless, and you stick to your duty no matter what, even after your fellow officers have ordered you back.’ Do I have that correct?” Salo smiled, shrugging innocently. “You are your own man now, so the choice is yours, but allow me to warn you: My employer is not the sort to share this level of information with just anyone and let them walk away, Mr. Talis. So,” he patted Jayce’s shoulder like he would pet a dog’s head for doing a trick, his smile anything but cheerful now, “what will it be?”

Ouch. “A fire-breathing dragon… with all the usual bells and whistles for cold-bloods?”

“He’ll be traveling with a kit for you to routinely remove his venom and whatever other icky bits there are.” He waved his hand flippantly. “They’ll show you how to use it. Don’t worry.”

“Great…” He tried to wrap his head around it all. 

He still failed. “I’m sorry. With all due respect,” he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you want me to do what with this thing?”

“Simple: Don’t take the muzzle off. He can’t get it off on his own even with his hands free, but the point remains: Do not uncuff him. For anything. Not even to pee, granted… this one’s an omega.” He smirked. “Our equipment’s a little different, so I’m not sure: would he still need help with aiming, or would he sit?”

Jayce nodded to the table, unable to say more.

It wasn’t enough for Salo. “Hm… Sounds entertaining…” he teased, admiring Jayce in a rather specific area. “Does an alpha wolf and an omega reptile in close quarters–”

Jayce reeled, his offense clear on his face. “That won’t be a problem. Trust me.”

“Wonderful. Get a move on. My employer will be waiting. You’ll take the train through the countryside. It’s longer, but quieter–and if some unfortunate accident were to befall you and he were to escape, god forbid unmuzzled, there won’t be any fireballs erupting in the midst of a city center… or leagues up in the sky. Compensation for travel is included in your pay.” 

His guard handed Jayce an envelope with a paper note of substantial size. Jayce had never truly needed to work, but with this, he’d be set for life. It was clear, however, that this ‘employer’ was deadly serious if it hadn’t been crystal clear before. It was never a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. Rather an ‘are you going to do this assignment with the promise of payment or under the threat of disappearing’ question. The choice was obvious. 

The deal was sealed in a handshake. He grabbed his bags, more than happy to leave. 

A part of him was curious. The other, smarter part wished that he’d taken Cait up on the offer to stay in Piltover, to lay low, and mind his own business for once.

+

[fluffyenergee]

Here, have some ler!Heavy lee!Medic 👍. This is a tickle fic

“Doktor?”

Medic looked up from the documents scattered across his desk after a second more of writing down.

“Ach, Heavy!” He beamed seeing his bigger teammate but there was some concealed weariness behind his eyes that said person did not miss. “What brings you to my humble abode? You know I always welcome you here though I’m afraid I’m a bit busy right now.” He returned to writing. “I gained the most fascinating results from, ahem, patching up Scout today and I just need to write it all down. For prosperity.” His eyes looked like they would bulge out of his sockets.

And maybe they would have, had Heavy not come closer, put his hand on Medic’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Doktor,” He repeated. “It is midnight.”

“Oh?” Medic looked up to check the wall clock. It was indeed just after 12 am. “Time flies when you do something you love, doesn’t it?” He chuckled. 

“Da.” Heavy nodded, still next to the other, still holding his shoulder. “But work can wait until morning.” He cradled Medic’s face forcing him to meet his gaze, not that the doctor really protested. “You need rest, Herbert.”

“Well, Misha,” Medic mirrored smugly, “if that’s so then why are you still up too?”

“To make sure you go to sleep,” Heavy deadpanned, ignoring Medic’s self-satisfied blinking. “If I don't make sure, you won’t. Heavy knows.”

“I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Nyet,” Heavy agreed with a good-natured nod, his expression softening into a more mischievous one. “But you need to be… convinced.” That last word was coated in a lower, deeper tone.

Which certainly had caught Medic’s attention because after that he didn’t once look down to his notes. Instead, excitement began tugging at his every feature.

“Och?” He tilted his head now closer to Heavy’s hands. “And how are you planning to convince me?”

“Doktor knows.”

He did. They both knew, but, after all, the anticipation was almost as delicious as the action itself.

“Oho!” Medic wasn’t exactly taken aback when Heavy picked him up and sat him on top of his desk, naturally after stacking the documents and putting them elsewhere, but he still couldn’t stop himself from letting the sound slip his lips. “How strong.”

“Heavy is strong.” Heavy gripped the other’s leg and straightened it in front of him, next taking care of removing his footwear. “And Medic is ticklish. Very useful.”

“That is undisputed.” Medic wiggled his bare foot’s toes, his palms now planted firmly behind his back on the desk.

“Da.”

Not waiting any longer, Heavy wriggled his big fingers quickly against Medic’s sole, not holding anything back, his other hand making sure the sensitive foot remained unmoving.

“OHOHOHOHO!” Medic burst into laughter immediately, his head thrown back. “KHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHHEAVY!” He did absolutely nothing to stop it.

“Yes, doktor?” Heavy grinned while his fingers covered the entirety of the tickled sole - heel, arch, toes… 

“THAHAHAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!” Medic eventually managed to blurt out comprehensible words as his fingers clawed at the surface underneath.

“Mmm, good, that’s the point.” Heavy focused on skimming between the toes now which caused the other to jerk and finally tug at his ankle, his other calf flailing freely. “Tickle, tickle, tickleeee. Medic is unusually ticklish. I like this.”

“AHAHAHA, OH!” Medic moved on to arching his back and lowering himself gradually on his arms as Heavy pinched between his toes. “AND YOUHUHUHU, AH! ARE A PEHEHEHEHERFECT TIHIHIHICKLER!

Heavy had hummed in contentment before… grabbing Medic’s other ankle and repeating the process of undressing his foot. He eyed the ever-growing redness on Medic’s face and quickly dug his thumbs into the center of both arches.

“GAH!” Medic’s toes all straightened as his arms finally lost all their strength and the doctor continued laughing and squirming flat on his back. “KHAHAHAH, OH, HEHEHEHEAVY!”

“Is doktor tired yet?” Heavy asked teasingly while reveling in the wild noises filling the infirmary and absolutely not stopping or even slowing to help the other answer.

“NO, NO, NEHEHEHEHEIN!” Medic’s words quickly dissolved into laughter under the prolonged foot tickling.

“Still too much energy then.” Heavy shook his head in mock-disapproval but when he moved to stand at Medic’s side, he could clearly see the other heaving once the laughter died down. “Heavy fixes.”

“Then… uff… what are you… waiting for?” Medic gave Heavy a challenging look, his toes already back to wiggling, his arms away from his torso, leaving it nice and vulnerable.

Heavy was not about to ignore this invitation.

“Very well.”

One of his hands returned to one of Medic’s soles, while the other one moved under his clothes to initiate direct contact with his stomach. He struck again.

“OHOHOAHAHAH!” Medic wiggled and squirmed on top of the desk, his hands now plastered to his very much red cheeks. “OH GOGOGOGOGOTT! MISHA!” He eyed the other through little tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“Misha know, it feels good.” Heavy’s big fingers started wiggling in circles around the center of Medic’s stomach, not stopping there or on his foot for even a second. “Silly Medic.” It was his turn to take in the other’s delicious state. “So ticklish and loving it so much.”

In turn, Medic simply leaned closer to Heavy’s hands, though at this point it was hard to say if it was intentional or simply an effect of moving so much while screeching without a break. It continued until… the tears of mirth gathering in Medic’s eyes started streaming down his cheeks and Heavy gradually slowed his tickling until he eventually stopped altogether. 

Medic was left with his body trembling, his tongue licking his dry lips, and of course that big smile which was very much still there.

“Oh… oh… mmm, that was…” He took a bigger breath and threw his arm across his eyes. It didn’t do much to hide his blush but that wasn’t the point. “That was so good.”

Had not the arm Heavy was sure he would be able to see literal hearts in Medic’s eyes. Perhaps that was what dictated his next move.

“Then would be shame not to…”

Medic felt devilish fingers scratching the sides of his neck.

“AAAAHAH!” He squealed. The infirmary came into his view once again, though most of it was covered by a certain mercenary. His hands flew to grip Heavy’s wrists. Which achieved absolutely nothing. “OHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEA-.” The rest of the word dissolved in a wheeze.

“Tickle, tickle, doktor.” Heavy’s fingers teased under Medic’s jaw before wandering down the sides of his neck and taking their time at its base.

If Medic’s legs were kicking before then now, they were downright spasming. Not that the rest of his body was faring any better.

“...” Not a sound escaped Medic for a second or two, but his face provided more than enough information to show his deliciously panicked excitement. And then… “...OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” The comeback of laughter was accompanied by Medic’s hands, finally, finally putting genuine effort into trying to push Heavy away.

“Hm, naughty hands,” Heavy grunted before determination took over his face. “Don’t worry, doktor, I will help make sure they don’t stop your enjoyment.” With that, he grabbed both of Medic’s hands into one of his and forced them above their owner’s head. “There.” 

Neither of them missed the absolutely violent shiver of excitement running through Medic’s body.

“Hah, H-Heheheavy, I’m so hehehelpless now!” Medic gasped when Heavy slowed significantly his now one-handed tickling for just a moment, as if in preparation.

“Good.”

“Ja, goohohohod.”

Heavy’s free hand found its place tormenting Medic’s neck again. By then the blush had reached the spot too and what followed were more screeches, more squirms, and one hell of a lot of laugh-screams that 100% could be heard beyond the infirmary.

The final result? Time - much closer to 1 am than midnight. Heavy - satisfied, still holding Medic’s wrists above his head. Medic himself - elated and exhausted.

Or so Heavy thought.

“Heeeh… heh…” Medic attempted to catch his breath hungrily. “More…?”

Heavy blinked at him and let go of his wrists in favour of using both his arms to pick up the doctor. 

“I will give more tickles, but only once Medic lies in bed.”

“Is that a promise, Liebling?” Medic managed to move his head just enough to lock his gaze with Heavy's.

“Da.”

“Ach, then I can’t deny such an offer.”

With their eyes stuck on each other and Medic limp in his arms, Heavy left the infirmary, absentmindedly shutting the door behind them. The day wasn't quite finished yet.

Blue widened eye remained unblinking as it took in the sight. The sound accompanying it was unnecessary but helpful in recognizing what was going on and it certainly wasn't hard to miss it from this proximity, especially considering that he opened the door juuuuust enough to be able to peek inside. He hadn't been planning to stay there, let alone for so long, but once he started observing he couldn’t stop himself.

…

Scout tensed up straightened against the wall and gritted his teeth as the infirmary’s door hit him when Heavy and Medic went through. They didn’t see him, and for once he was grateful. They continued up the hallway and then disappeared from view. The lights switched off leaving Scout in the darkness. He was more than sure of the way out to the rest of the base, but it still took him a few seconds to move.

“Lucky freakin’ bastards.”

[pinkwhiskerglitter]

Pepper Poppers

Chapter 2: New Beginnings

[Shane POV]

The alarm forces him up from slumber groaning as the pounding to his head accompanies this. He gets out of bed and changes into his work uniform. When he leaves his room he sees Jas eating a stack on pancakes and Marnie slicing some apples.

“Hey kiddo, I’m off to work see you later” Shane pats Jas on her head and nods to Marnie before leaving for Joja.

15 minutes later and he’s clocked in back to the mundane cycle of stocking and listing items. Sam eventually stumbles in and greets Shane like he usually does. Shane envies how happy Sam can be in such a mind-numbing place. How he has more potential and life in him than he ever did.

The routine begins of Shane stocking and documenting and Sam... being Sam.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Farmer POV]

The fresh morning air wakes the farmer up and she looks around confused for a second as to why she’s in a rundown shack.

“Oh yea, career swap.” she mutters, getting herself out of bed and into a pair of overalls and a t-shirt. She looks through the seeds and tools she was gifted when she first moved in here and looked up how to care for parsnips. After a few articles and TikTok's she got a general idea and walked out to her new farm.

It wasn't a bad land, but it was a mess. Being abandoned for who knows how long has affected the grounds way more than she would like. Overgrown grass, rocks, and trees for as far as the eye can see floods the place. She looks around for a patch of land to start her parsnips with little rubble to disturb the process. Awkwardly trying to tilth, the soil and plant the seeds took longer than expected but was eventually completed.

“Guess I should start with clearing up this land, can’t be a successful farmer without land” she says and begins cutting away at a small area removing rocks, weeds, and whatever else has overgrown in the area. She remembers she has an axe and runs to her home to grab it.

It’s heavier than expected but she grips it and walks to a smaller tree to try and hack away at it.

“Here goes nothing” she says before she swings the axe with all her strength. The axe just sticks into the trees bark and she is out of breath sweating up a storm.

“I should have kept my gym membership.” she cries trying to pull the axe out of the tree. After an embarrassingly long struggle she finally gets it lost and delivers another messy blow. The farmer works away at the tree for what seems like ages until it finally falls, and she’s left with the stump. This is when it dawns on her that she has no idea what to do with a fallen tree, or a stump. After a few google searches, she decides to break the wood into smaller pieces and store them somewhere until they’ll get a use. This process was long and tiring, draining the farmer of her energy.

After that fiasco the farmer realizes if she’s going to start over, she will need to become more educated about this new lifestyle. She can’t stop to google everything and needs to become more knowledgeable about farming. The farmer showers off the day's work and plans out a schedule to help educate this new lifestyle.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[Shane POV]

The clock hits 5 and like a porgram code in a computer Shane gets out of work and follows his routine of heading to the saloon. When he enters the building, the air is back to normal. No more extra buzz or light like the previous night. He signs in relief and returns to his usual corner with the same beer he always drinks. He’s back to a fly on the wall observing people around him and thinking about nothing but the bitter taste of beer on his tongue and the smell of peppers in the air.

Marnie eventually walks up to Shane, which isn't unusual but not exactly something she does often.

“Shane dear, maybe some nights after work you should skip the Saloon and head back home. Jas misses spending more time with you and been asking for you. I know you find comfort here and everything hasn’t been easy, but she still needs you.” the warm woman said with a pleading look in her eyes.

Shane sighs and looks up at her. He wants nothing more than to brush her off and curl into a ball and disappear but at the end of the day she’s right and Jas does need him.

“Yea ok.” he mutters, turning away from Marnie before putting some cash on the table and walking out of the Saloon.

“Great two nights in a row I leave the Saloon early.” He grunts as he walks back to Marnie home.

When he enters the house, he looks around for Jas just to find her with the chickens.

‘Hey uncle Shane.” Her eyes light up and she runs to hug him”

“Hey Jas, whatcha doing in here with these lovely ladies? Isn’t it your bedtime.” Shane questions.

“Yea but no one was home, and I wanted to pet your chicken.” She cheers. Shane smiles at her and bends down to pet his favorite chicken as well.

“Okay little lady it’s time to get you in bed, Marnie would kill me if I let you stay up any longer.” Shane picks up Jas and brings her to her bed tucking her in like the previous night. As much as Shane hates this town and his life, he loves Jas and wants to give her the opportunity to be better. It’s unfair she got stuck with him and must witness times he over drinks or falls into a hole that's hard to get out of, but he wants to provide what he can and hopefully help her make a life he wished he got.

He knows he’s not cut out for parenthood. He knows nothing about people, and even less about children. He wonders if what he’s doing is right or if he should have given up custody but in his own selfish way, he could not part ways with Jas. He needs her and he hopes she needs him. The only reason he’s been here this long was for Jas and he knows he can’t leave her; she’s already lost so much. His eyes begin to water at the thought, and he leaves her sleeping figure to go to his room and crack open an emergency beer. He knows he shouldn’t do this nasty habit when any emotion arrives but it’s an addiction he doesn’t want to break. After a few cans Shane still doesn’t feel drowned out enough, so he whips out his bottle of peanut butter whiskey and takes a few chugs. This was finally enough to numb out his mind and make his world spin in the way he finds comfort.

Soon enough Shane eventually passes out and the house is quiet once more.

[AN]

Thanks for reading :3

Find me in ao3 @AristotleOfShane

[simplegenius042]

WIP Wednesday & Last Line/s

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @voidika @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @aceghosts and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries and @nightwingshero + anyone else who'd like to join.

Guess who finally got their documents working again! Anyway, WIPs and Last Lines for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles. Specifically; a WIP for Jurassic World: Before The Storm and The True Sinners, and a Last Line for two Classroom Of The Elite fics and Silva's Hope and No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden. Kind of a lot, but I've missed this so much. You can find these below the cut:

Here's a WIP for Chapter 2 of Jurassic World: Before The Storm:

Regret.

That is what overcame me when I followed Lisa off the ramp of the ferry.

Once I stood on sturdier ground, the unforgiving heat swept over me quickly.

Lisa had told me to put some summer clothes on; the sleeveless shirt and accompanying short skirt that she had paid for had been her initial suggestion. But I didn’t want to wear those. I didn’t want strangers to see how scrawny and soft I was. And the loose long-sleeve shirt, long baggy pants and my jumper were just too cozy, even if they were more for the colder months.

The uncomfortable temperature had me reconsider if this was a small lapse in judgement.

But no one was paying me much mind, so maybe the clothes helped. If that’s right, then maybe a little heat wouldn’t be so bad.

“Jackie,” Lisa gritted my nickname past her teeth, impatient towards my slow pace. I hadn’t realized that my baggage would be so heavy. I obliged her by picking up the pace.

Though I sped up in pace, Lisa was swifter, and the increasing amount of people clustering together made it more difficult to stay behind her lead.

Luckily the crowd started to dissipate.

I rushed to be by Lisa’s side, lugging my baggage with as much force as I could. The sun lifted an unwanted blanket of hot air over us, and I could not find it in my heart to appreciate the climate. In response to this uncomfortable pressure, I unzipped my jumper. I took a glance at Lisa and found her attention elsewhere.

Here's The True Sinners WIP, where Silva's planning murder while making coffee... but who can blame someone whose recently been kidnapped by the resident ginger soldier:

Jacob dragged Silva through the halls of the old veteran's center, his right hand gripped onto the hem of her dirty coat.

They reached what she assumed to be his office. Jacob opened the door and unceremoniously threw her forward inside. She caught herself from falling, twisting around to face her captor.

He shut the door behind him, the handle's lock clicked in a twist. Jacob crossed his arms as he regarded her, face thinned into a stoic mask.

Blue eyes raked over her disheveled body, specifically how she positioned herself; legs spread apart and slight bent, her left arm spread forward in preparation while her right arm remained closest to her hip, and her dull grey eyes glaring at him. Focused.

He sharply exhaled through his nose, almost like a whistling snort. He leaned against the wall next to the door, eyes on her. Silva didn't drop her guard, not even when he gestured over to a small table.

"Coffee," Jacob tells her. Silva remained in her stance, though confusion did etch across her face.

Jacob gestured once more to the small table. Silva hesitated, eyed Jacob's stature. She took a brief glance over to the table, not enough to lose Jacob in her peripheral though, and opted not to change her stance either, just in case.

She spotted a kettle and some paper cups, and what she assumed to be a jar of grounded coffee beans.

She swiftly placed her eyes back onto him, uncertainty and anticipation brewing within her. Jacob must have noticed, as he stated, "Get yourself a cup of coffee. And if you get one for me, I might be open to explaining your purpose here."

Her eyes narrowed, but refrained from speaking. Silva wasn't sure what his game was. She focused past him to the office door.

She silently exhaled, taking small steps toward the table, grey eyes always on Jacob in case he made any sudden moves.

Once she planted a gloved hand on the small tabletop, she gave one more glare towards him before reluctantly turning her back to him.

With an ear out for any inconspicuous movements Jacob could make, Silva quickly pressed a knuckle against the kettle. Finding it lukewarm, she flicked down the switch.

She dared another glance at Jacob while the kettle heated up, only to stiffen when their stares connected. A palish blue invading her dull grey. A contrast to the sharp grey of Father and the pale hazel of Paul.

He was a militar man. The green forest jacket with the Americana flag was enough to tip her off when they first met, but the ambush... the training grounds of the veteran center had all confirmed her suspicion.

She had been unprepared when she fought back during the raid, only managing to catch him off guard with an admittedly surprised hit, but nothing that could have incapacitated him with his support running at her.

But now they were alone... and once she heard the rising whistle, she twisted her fingers around the handle of her new weapon.

Here's four Last Lines, two each for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

The first Last Line is for a Classroom Of The Elite chapter in The UnTitled Stories (a collection of short fics). Ayanokoji and Horikita have lunch together:

"So," I had paused to swallow down the crumbed fish before I asked you, "The first step is to rehabilitate the failures?"

It hadn't been an unsound plan. In fact it was quite logical, which made sense, in hindsight.

"If you've grasped that, you can guess what I'm about to propose," you had told me, and you were correct. The implication was as easy to notice like a car speeding down a crossing.

My initial response was to decline. The word 'no' was on the tip of my mouth, but I refrained. I took a glance at you, and reconsidered my reply.

Knowing you thus far, you would never have allowed me to get as close as you'd already let me back then if I had rejected your proposal. You had made sound points and made your intentions clear. While I had no ambition to reach Class A, as it had not been my goal, you were a curious oddity that I wanted to learn more about. And helping you meant getting one step closer to the answer I sought.

So, I made the only acceptable answer.

"Okay, I'll help."

"I thought you'd say-," you had paused mid-sentence, my words being swiftly picked apart in your mind as you realized what I had said, "Wait, seriously?"

"Dead serious," I parroted your words back. I'd imagine the look of momentary shock should have been amusing, though I couldn't find much humor in the displace as my chopsticks picked up the rest of my crumbed fish.

The second Last Line/s is for a "What If?" Classroom Of The Elite scenario where Amasawa and Yagami went with Ayanokoji to the school. Anyway, have Class D's reaction to the trio:

As Ayanokoji began to depart from his desk, he paused. Horikita heard him let out a sigh, and much to her confusion, dropped his bag on top of his desk.

"What are you-?" Horikita wanted to question, but Ayanokoji soon interrupted her.

"Accepting my fate," he disclosed, not with much emotion, but certainly not his regular monotone.

Horikita blinked at him, shaking her head in confusion, "Huh?"

Ayanokoji only pointed toward Class 1-D's door in response. She turned her gaze toward it, the sliding door left ajar by the few students who left for break. She wasn't sure why...

She stopped her thoughts when she heard it; the rushing steps of someone fast approaching. It wasn't until a familiar magenta-haired fiend slid in front of the door way, cast her gradient dark-red eyes onto her target and propelled herself inside the classroom at such unnatural speed.

"Senpai~!" the twin-tailed girl cheered out as she threw herself at Ayanokoji, who (reluctantly) welcomed her with deflated open arms. The girl tackled Ayanokoji, the force causing both of them to crash to the floor. The ruckus caught the remainder of Class D's attention.

Before Horikita could process what she just witnessed, she heard another rush of footsteps towards the doorway, but this one slowed down to reveal the second of Ayanokoji's companions; a boy with brown hair and green eyes, softly panting and non-discreetly leaning against the frame to recover from the chase.

The third Last Line/s is for Silva's Hope, and Silva gets a short break and a new friend:

"Hey, Dep, so... you hungry?" Boshaw asked, fidgeting with the beer bottle in his hand. Silva glanced at him, raising a brow, "I was gonna heat up the leftover pizza I had in my fridge, and since you're crashing the place, I'm just wondering if you want some."

He seemed anxious, giving her a forced smile as he awaited her answer. At the mention of food, the rumbling pain in her gut demanded she attend to its needs. Silva blew out a relenting exhale.

"Honestly Boshaw... I'd love some pizza," she told him, and she saw how his brown eyes lightened up; like how Elsa was given permission to do a dangerous stunt or Hurk given the go-ahead to blow a Peggie chopper out of the sky. Or given the thumbs up to set something ablaze.

With that reminder, she quickly added, "As long as it's not reheated with your flamethrower. Understood Boshaw?"

Boshaw blew out a playful huff as he stood up on the trailer's roof, "Nah, I learnt my lesson last time I did that. Gets too charred. Don't worry, I've got a microwave laying about inside. And ya can call me Sharky, Dep."

Silva chewed the inside of her cheek, but after some thinking, couldn't see the harm of calling him by his preferred name, "Alright Sharky... as long as you call me Silva. I'm doing a lot more than what's in a deputy's paycheck. Deal?"

She opened out a gloved hand for him to shake on, and it lightened her mood to see the wide cheerful grin as he took her hand, and managed to pull her up onto her two feet, "You've got a deal there, Silva."

The final Last Line/s is for No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden, and have a crumb of Hudson and Pratt content... as they chat waiting for a passed-out Coroner!Silva to wake up:

Watching how quietly [Silva] slept on as Pratt had loudly chugged down his coffee, Joey couldn't disagree with Pratt's comment, regardless of how ill-mannered the jest was.

She's almost like a corpse, she conceded, frowning at the soft breathes she could barely see part their coroner's lips, the egg-shaped timer ticking beside the dark-haired woman's head, within arm-length.

"Hudson, you need to relax. She's a grown woman, remember? She's made the decision to deal with her personal issues herself," Pratt yapped on, and shared a thought, "Not the best way to deal with any issue, true, but it really isn't up to us to interfere if it hasn't affected her job thus far. Besides, you've got to admit she's a bit fun when she's tipsy. Night-outs are never short of entertaining when she's around. Cheeky and funny, too."

Joey gave Pratt a deadpan look, and sighed, "I don't know Pratt. You ever wonder why she drinks though? It worries me. We're pretty much the only ones here she goes out of her way to talk to, with exception to Earl. And she's just cooped up in here, surrounded by... death."

She gestured around the morgue, to the units housing whatever bodies were brought in this week. Once again, she settled her gaze on the deep bags under Silva's eyes, a combined result of the coroner's known insomnia and the amount of effort in she puts to stretch herself thin in overworking herself. Joey huffed, a somberness in her voice, "It's so... isolating. She never shares anything outside her personal life either, and we're the closest people to friends that she's got. It's not normal."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP Update

3 out of 31 ficlets for the @steddieholidaydrabbles are done, and my little ideas document is slowly filling up with plans for all of them. I can't wait to write all of these down! ⛄

Currently working on chapter 7 of The King's Gift, and The Horrors(TM) are back!! 😱

Chapter 1 of Saltwater Symphony (aka Selkie!Steve) should post some time next week! I'm very much looking forward to sharing this one! 🦭

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project. 🏰 The King's Gift 🦭 Saltwater Symphony (Selkie!Steve) 🎄Steddie Holiday Drabbles

Snippet from 🏰 (CW: drowning)

His body flies into action while his mind is still reeling with terror, hours and hours of lifeguard training kicking in and taking over his movements. His naked feet burn as they come into contact with the snow, but he knows that his boots will drag him down. He throws off his coat and the sword belt, too, but keeps the weapon clutched in one hand. He’ll need it. 

“Help!” he bellows, as loud as his voice, shaking with cold and nerves, will allow it. Hoping and praying that someone back at the castle will hear. “We need help!” 

Then, still in his pants and shirt, he jumps in. 

The cold feels like a vice closing around his chest. He lets out a hoarse wheeze through a closing throat and he almost drops the sword, every single muscle in his body going rigid, and it hurts, he’s dying, he needs to get back out, he needs to-

Breathe. He needs to breathe. 

He’s never been in water this cold before, but he knows that he must stay calm and allow his body to ease into it or neither of them will have a chance of making it out. He forces himself to go still. 

Inhale. 

Hold. 

Exhale. 

Repeat. 

Relax, relax, relax. 

He doesn’t have time to relax, every second he wastes up here is precious time running away from Eddie, is Eddie getting pulled further into the icy depths. 

How deep is the lake? Has he hit the ground by now? Are they pinning him down there, the light from the surface a taunting, unreachable thing as the air slowly leaves his body? 

Don’t think about it, he needs you to stay calm! Breathe! 

Nothing has ever been harder than staying here, motionless, and waiting for his body to adjust to the cold. It feels like hours before his breaths stop hitching in his chest, before the tension bleeds out of his aching muscles. 

The moment he feels he can move without his body betraying him, he starts wading. He can’t feel his fingers or toes in the water, his vision is filling with dark needlepoints of black at the edges, and he knows that it’ll be minutes at best before he blacks out. 

Eddie must’ve blacked out by now. 

He must be quick. 

He grips the sword as tight as his numb hand will allow it, sucks in a breath, and dives.

[rreskk]

Hii! If it's not a problem can you make one where Trevor meets reader's ex (perhaps an asshole one lol)? What would happen? 👀

A/N: I experimented with this fanfic so sorry if it's all over the place! Also, I might do a sequal to this because I left it on a cliffhanger lol

Summary: You mentioned your ex and... Trevor has his ways of inserting his dominance.

Word count: 1586

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

TW: -Smut

You mentioned your ex once… In a conversation striked by Trevor himself, you slid out the name of your past lover that happened to be the one just before Trevor. In response, you’d assume he’d force more information out so he can settle his furious curiosity. No way did he like the fact that you’ve been loved by different men! Trevor managed to keep cool and pretend he wasn’t bothered.

He was.

He was VERY bothered and ran to Ron after the conversation. Demanding the number of your so-called ex, after a few days of nagging and tormenting Ronald, he received the exact telephone dial and saved it into his phone for another time. Refusing to tell Ron his plan, Trevor had been hiding his excitement all day… He waited and waited for the perfect moment. Hell! You had no idea what he was doing! Trevor’s need to insert dominance was infuriating. With the knowledge of your past lovers mistakes, he couldn’t wait to record the video expressing his upmost devotion to you through ungodly activities, and send it as a “fuck you” message for breaking your heart. All this… Without your notice.

Trevor, trying not to make himself obvious, was hogging in front of his dresser fiddling until his phone stood… Recording. He made sure it captured the full sight of his bed, so whatever happened, it would document it all. When the flash signalled it’s process of recording, he smirked into the camera as you were unnoticeably lying in his bed, reading a magazine. You hadn’t of seen this and assumed he was searching for something in the drawers. With a small smile, he ripped away the magazine from your hand and crawled over you.

“Whaaat?” You grinned at his playful behaviour.

Trevor tilted his head and gave you a needy kiss on the lips. You were suspicious of this clinginess but didn’t complain. His hand troubled your waist, pulling up your shirt so he had full sight of your chest and face-planted into it, smothering his kisses and tongue all over your curves and skin. You gasped and gripped onto his hair. What’s gotten into him?

“Trev- Oh…” Looking down at the sight of his desperate tongue entrancing you with his saliva, you bite your lip and held the urge to give in as you already fucked once today. He gambled at your curves and pulled you closer to his embrace. There was no escape as you smirked at him, “What are you doing? You’re acting weird.”

Trevor mumbled against your stomach, “Is loving my gorgeous woman weird? Is praising the love of my life weird?” He tongued your pet names so mockingly but so… Sexily. There was something up, you know it. But you don’t say it. You shook your head to respond. It wasn’t like he saw anyway, it wasn’t like he cared. Trevor carried on feasting your body like a hungry animal, demanding his territory, grunting at the impulsive horniness he’s facing.

Unaware of the phone recording this treasurable moment, you were confident and threw off your shirt. Trevor toddled your breasts and sucked, licked, bitten, spat on them. The drool from his mouth delivered and served you joy now you were painted in his DNA. With your whole upper body abused by Trevor’s selfish tongue, he finally reached your lips again and kissed you like life depended on it. The saliva dripped down your stomach and sides, giving you the sensation of hot and cold temperatures, making you shiver and squirm while enchanted in this kiss.

“God, I love you.” He whispered as you forced your tongue into his mouth. Trevor felt his limbs grow weak and his groin slammed against your hips. It made you both gasp. Now the tension was getting hotter. His arms rotated you into sitting on his pelvis, absolutely destroying his erection that poked from the hem of his saggy sweatpants. Trevor gave you a “whoopsie, I did that” look as he thrusted his hips against your thighs. With this sign, he wanted you to take care of him.

Trevor sunk into the mattress when you carefully pulled down his sweatpants. The man underneath you gasped since the cold air began mangling his boner, making it shudder and twitch uncontrollably. He went to remove his pants but you slapped his hand away.

“Not yet.” You whispered and Trevor sent a secret gaze to the camera, smirking with pride.

He soon looked up at you, “I’m reaaally horny… Baby, please.” His eyes glazed with innocence.

Biting your lip, you turned around, committing to the reverse cowgirl position and dismayed his hidden erection. Trevor whimpered and gasped in pain when you leaned forward, your ass dominating and rubbing against his bulge. His eyes stared at your curves with undying lust. Seeing you move and tease wasn’t out of the ordinary… You both take turns to test each other but knowing there is a camera recording this, Trevor felt more horny considering your ex… Will be watching this.

“My God!”

Without warning, you began riding him dry. To his luck, your tits were bouncing right into the phones view. He grinned and placed his hands on your hips, sneakily guiding you towards his raging boner when you paused, understanding his motives here. You returned his grin with a daring smirk.

“Hmm, is that what you want baby?” You asked.

He nodded frantically, “I want to fuck you, sugar, let me fuck you… Please.”

He asked, you deliver.

The atmosphere increased in tension when you turned around. Your fingers gently tugged down his underwear and soon, his cock jumped out the millisecond of it’s freedom. Trevor groaned and went to touch it, but again, you slapped away his hands.

“Let me.”

He watched intently as you rotated back to the reverse cowgirl position. You held his dick under your entrance without even looking! Trevor bit into his lip and stared directly into the camera, almost as though he was saying: “watch and learn”. With one tug of your hips, he forced you down onto your dick and you both moaned.

“Ohhhh…” You breathed. Trevor kept one hand on your hips while the other grabbed the hair that dangled against your back. As you were beginning to jump up and down, he yanked the hair strands, causing you to fall back slightly, your tits fully exposed to the camera and your face of ecstasy obvious. Trevor smirked and kept his grip on your hair, tugging every now and then while glaring daggers into the phone. He wanted you to yelp out every sound you can produce as he wanted to let the lucky audience knows… That he makes you feel better than anyone else.

Increasing the pace, you stared at the wall ahead and moaned loudly. Trevor, behind you, was also gagging out cracked moans. He was lying in the pillows, beginning to feel his climax already. His hands lazily placed itself on your waist now; squeezing, fondling, slapping your curves with egoistic pride. The saliva he spat from earlier was still visible on your skin. The lighting would make this a key detail when looking at the phones perspective.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered from underneath you. The way your whole hips swayed to demolish his dick… The way your back bends whenever he hits your core… The way he sees your hands grip his thighs for security when the sensation gets so overwhelming. He holds out his tongue and stares back into the camera, mouthing out something to the lucky ex-lover: “Look at my girl.”

After a few minutes of riding him, you felt Trevor lean forward and press his chest against your back. His arms sneaked around your naked waist and those greedy palms gripped onto your tits, completely holding you into his embrace from behind, threating you into captivity; heaving, yearning, pleading with his slimy lips that travelled from your neck to your collarbone. His cock remained deep inside you as he’d push his hips up and with one hit, he abused your clit, sending you into a coma after a coma after a coma. Your eyes rolled back and he toyed with your breasts while you climaxed. His lips grazed the lobes of your ear.

“So fuckin’ hot…”

Your moan slowly dissolved before Trevor thrusted into your fluids and the final blow sent him into spasms as well. The man practically caged himself around you. As he holds you from behind, his teeth engraved itself upon your shoulder, trying to contain the feisty moan that escaped anyway. He squealed with dying pleasure.

“Ohhhh, MY- I LOVE YOU!” The volume and tensity made you gasp. The moment Trevor lets his cum roam out, he rested his chin on your shoulder and pulled you back onto the bed. A giggle left your lips at this childish antique.

“That was so good.” You smiled to his dazed face.

Though he hasn’t recovered from his orgasm, Trevor smiled back, “It was fuckin’ amazing, [y/n].”

His sweatpants was still sluggishly tangled around his lower thighs. You resorted into collecting your underwear and clothes. He watched you with admiration before notifying him that you’re going to the bathroom. When you left the room, Trevor jumped for the phone that was still hidden near his drawers and smirked into the camera. He was all close and personal now.

“Get fucked, YOU COCKSUCKER!”

The recording ended.

And you bet your ass, he DID send that damn video…

Mhm, the reply wasn’t pretty.