#1.6k+ words........ I'm-

[ghostwise]

Matacuervos, ch. 7 - A heavy thing Rated M, 1.6k words - cw: death, canon-typical violence, discussions of trauma, slavery, and child abuse After Rocio murders their target outside El milagro, Zevran and Hamal contend with the fallout, and with an entirely unexpected circumstance. Read update on AO3 - Read from ch. 1 - thank you @rowanthefierce for beta-reading this chapter!

Hamal sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time, leaping over the last of them. He rushed through the front door, out where the air was cold by Antivan standards, but balmy yet for him.

“Zevran!” he called out. Where had he gone?

Hamal nervously rearranged his grip on his bow, looking down the street towards the brothel—but before he could investigate, a soft, pained noise came from behind the cart, and caught his attention. He stepped carefully around the stunned horses, behind the carriage wheels.

“Nadia?”

“¡Maldito mago!”

She was on the ground, partway beneath the carriage, her arms and knees scraped from the fall. Nadia groaned as she lifted a shaking hand to the back of her head. Hamal knelt beside her and gently eased her up. He could see her scalp was sticky with blood, and a lump was already forming under the skin.

“You’re hurt,” he observed in his meager Antivan, scrambling for the correct words and wishing he had more time to piece the language together. He understood it more than he could speak it, and even that was difficult with Nadia’s rapid-fire and distinct dialect. “Not good! Your head!”

“I’ll be alright!” She waved him off. “Where is Zevran?”

“He… looks for the man. I don’t know.”

Again, Hamal’s gaze drifted in the direction of the brothel, eager for any sight of Zevran. He could not see much from this position, but he could hear a rhythmic sound, like something being struck repeatedly, like metal hitting wet stone. He didn’t have to say what was on both their minds: this wasn’t what they had planned.

“Thank you,” Nadia said softly, leaning against him. She took a shuddering breath. “We should search the carriage. Quick! El carruaje.” She repeated the words, seeing his confused look, and tapped the carriage a few times. “Carruaje.”

A new word to him, though he’d never get the damn r’s right. Hamal did as he was told. He pulled open the carriage door and looked inside. There was no translation for the soft and pitiable sound he made then, but the feeling was something Nadia understood.

“Oh… d’alen.”

He and Nadia looked in on a sleeping child. The little girl was slumped against the back seat of the carriage. She looked to be about eight years old. A sliver of blood trickled from her nose, and her small, pointed ears poked through a mess of dark curls. Besides her, a bag of supplies lay on the floor.

Nadia exclaimed something in frantic Antivan, but Hamal only understood, “Help me!”

“The spell,” Hamal murmured to himself, as he pulled the child carefully out of the carriage. “That bastard used his magic near her. But I think she’s only stunned. She’s breathing.” He looked at Nadia, though she couldn’t understand his Elvhen, so perhaps he was saying it for his own sake: “She’s alright.”

Nadia nodded, sniffling. She roughly wiped at her face, her bloodied hands smearing red diluted tears over her skin.

But it was more the shock than her injury which troubled her now. She hadn’t truly had any doubts about what Zevran and Hamal had told her, but it had all come on so quickly; just this morning she had been carrying on with business as usual. To be embroiled now in a plot against slavers in her very home was overwhelming.

Together, she and Hamal brought the child out of the carriage, and they wrapped her up in Hamal’s cloak.

The girl was safe now. She’d never go to where she was headed, or return to where she’d hailed from.

Outside El milagro, Rocio was hunched over on the ground, her cane now discarded at her side. She did not react as Nadia and Hamal joined them, but Zevran, through his pounding headache, hurried to meet them.

“You’re alright,” Zevran said, relieved. He would have embraced Hamal and kissed him, but he noticed the child in his arms and his breath caught in his throat. “Where did- was that child in the carriage?”

“Yes,” Hamal said. “She’s unconscious, but alive. Nadia is hurt.”

“I am fine,” Nadia said, hearing her name through the stream of Common exchanged between the two men. “The girl is what matters. Maker only knows, if we had not found her tonight…”

Zevran gave her a short nod, taking in the information. This was what their efforts had amounted to. They may have lost their informant. But a child was saved!

“Nadia, you both need a doctor,” Zevran said firmly.

“We need to handle things here first,” Nadia said, aiming a pointed look at the corpse. It was not her first time seeing a dead man, and yet, her stomach turned at the sight of his bashed-in face. She gestured with her hands out. “What’s happened? Who killed him?

Rocio looked up from her perch upon the blood-soaked stones. “I did,” she croaked out. “He deserved it.”

“It complicates things,” Nadia said with a grimace.

“What’s complicated about it? You say he stole that child!”

Nadia blinked at her. For a moment, she pretended she already knew the young woman; pretended she was a coworker or a neighbor she saw often. It was a skill that aided her, in her line of work. Compassion. Exercising it now, she saw pieces of the story in the painful angle of Rocio’s leg, and the fury in her wet eyes. Perhaps a reflection of herself, too, albeit one from decades ago.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“Rocio Ciriani.”

“Rocio. Have you ever taken a man’s life before?”

“No.” The admission came out, low and hoarse. Rocio gazed up at Nadia, then looked at Zevran and Hamal in turn, lingering, finally, on the child. “I haven’t.”

“It’s a heavy thing. At this rate, the city guard will be called, if they aren’t already on their way,” Nadia said evenly. “But a murder at a brothel is nothing they haven’t seen before. It can be explained away. A drunk customer. A jealous lover. A rape.”

“Braska.” Zevran seethed quietly. “And what of the children he was going to buy tonight?”

He crouched over the man, staring into his face with a keen desperation, though the life was gone from him already. “Give me a name,” he urged quietly. “I know who you work with. But where do you meet them? How often? An address. A contact. Anything!”

For Zevran’s part, he was distressed. A few hours ago, his only goal had been to locate an informant, interrogate him, and kill him later; to dispose of the body in a river, or a charnel house. He’d have killed Gloria Amilcar, too, if it hadn’t been for Nadia’s involvement. He thought, also, of what he’d learned tonight about his father’s death. This had ballooned far out of proportion, and try as he did, he could not pinpoint where he’d gone wrong.

Hamal leaned in to speak to him.

“We need to go,” he said gently in the language that they shared, but which was neither of their native tongues. “The city guard won’t care about a shem selling elves to the Crows, but they will care about a dead shem with a Dalish arrow sticking out of him.”

Zevran wrenched the arrow from the man’s broken form. There was sense in his husband’s words, but his head was swimming.

“I’m not going to run,” he said, and he repeated himself in Antivan for Nadia and Rocio’s benefit. “No voy a huir.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Nadia said.

“I won’t run either,” Rocio forced out in her tear-soaked voice. “And I won’t lie to the guard. Everyone should know what has happened! What is the point if nobody knows? We have so much proof!”

“Proof or no, you will go to jail!” Nadia told her. “And still, there will be no guarantee that the guard will care, or do anything to help. What’s the point of that? I have worked this brothel for thirty years. This is how things are. A whore can be replaced.”

“The way things are must change. This is my life.” Rocio, unmoving, let out a hiss of air. “If it makes even a little bit of difference, I have to try.” There was a cold edge to her words.

“Brave girl,” Zevran murmured.

Then there was nothing more to say. There was no convincing a determined Antivan. This, he knew.

Nadia rolled her shoulders, feeling quite lightheaded. Her neck throbbed. She looked up at Zevran and Hamal, these men who had so disrupted El milagro ’s routine.

“To think, you returned without anyone asking you to, and in a single night made a mess of everything.”

Zevran’s eyes flitted to her, hurt. But she looked back at him with the strangest combination of pride and sorrow.

“Thank you,” she said, emphatically. “You came to help us, and you have. You made us aware of horrors that needed to be exposed. Leave Gloria to me; I will help Rocio turn her in. Leave Rocio to her fate, for she chose it. Now take that child with you. And go.”

Zevran rose to his feet. He exchanged a look with his husband before asking, “Where would you have us take her?”

And so the plan for the child was crafted in the mismatched pieces of Common, Antivan, and Elvhen they shared. Stitched together with a potent need for justice and a measure of patience.

In Hamal’s arms, the child slept dreamlessly. The spell had been strong enough to stun a horse and two grown adults, and it would take her time to recover her senses.

[femininomen0n]

oh my god I ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING

[aheckinmess]

Bullet in a Gun [Snipe] (Angst)

(One-shot 23/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe, Choku Dan, Pro Hero Snipe, Snipe x OC, Snipe x Reader, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Angst, And When I Say Angst, I Mean the Cliche Damsel in Distress This Time, I'm Not Sorry, I Committed to the Chivalrous Cowboy Trope, Snipe Rides in to Save the Day, I Gave Myself a Panic Attack Writing This, It Was Worth It, Snipe is So Underappreciated, I Did My Best to Remedy That, We Stay Writing 1.6K Words This Week

Word Count: 1,639 words

Summary: As Ichijiku contemplates life, a villain decides to make her contemplate her life specifically when he kidnaps her to get back at Snipe. As the clock for Ichijiku's life ticks down, Snipe finds a hint left behind as to where she's being held. When he finally arrives, he might be able to save her, but at what cost?

Ichijiku (Tigress)

If I stare at the sky for too long, it almost seems like a cardboard cutout, ready at any moment to fall forward and reveal its Great Creator behind it, spanning out into the dark, expansive realm of space. Will galaxies seem finite in the infinitesimal vacuum of space? Or will they only seem that much bigger with my own microscopic existence soiling the atmosphere? 

Those thoughts plague  my mind before a blue-haired man with tattoos wrestles me out of my rocking chair and through my house to steal me away.

Now, tied to a railroad track and left with nothing but the sky to look at, I’m not wondering about the vast expanse of the heavens any more. I’m wondering what Snipe will think of my absence. Will he think I’m ready to move on from our year-long relationship, unaware of my predicament? Or will he be lost and confused, distraught when he doesn’t find my warning in time?

Death doesn’t even cross my mind, despite the fact that Chameleon makes it very clear I’ll be dying at precisely 3:00pm.

“You’re awfully calm for someone in this situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an introvert and not entirely sure how I should respond to this.” My tone is, in fact, far more calm than it should be. “If this is your idea of catching a date, you’ve got the wrong idea. This isn’t a girl’s idea of a fun time, nor is it what she means when she says she wants to be railed.”

“Shut up. That’s hardly an appropriate response.” I hear him huff out a breath before he continues. “You’re not nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I’d been banking on hearing you scream until you lost your voice.” He drawls, apparating into existence in my line of sight.

What I thought to be a simple blue, turns out to be iridescent scales camouflaging him with every winking beam of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of color with every step he takes. He might be handsome if he didn’t just hogtie me to the tracks.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I roll my eyes as I glare at him. “But it’s Snipe’s job to make me scream, you know.”

A moment later he’s got a rope tied around my mouth, effectively gagging me.

“On second thought, it’s far too irritating listening to you talk. You have no class.” He crosses his arms across his chest before looking down one side of the tracks. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming soon.”

When I feel the ground rumbling beneath me followed by a thunderous horn in the distance, panic sweeps through my chest. Even so, death still isn’t my first thought. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and think of Snipe. I think of the sky. I think of infinity and my cat and love letters and regrets and what could have been. 

Only when I see the approaching silhouette of the train do I allow myself a fleeting thought for death.

. . . . .

It’s 2:23pm when Snipe dismounts from his horse. It’s 2:25 when he whips past the overturned rocking chair and bursts into her open door, barely hanging onto its hinges.

It’s 2:26 when he finds the note plastered to her fridge. 

Been a while since we’ve had a fair fight, Snipe. Let’s see if you’re still on your A-game. Your lady dies at three o’clock sharp. See if you can save her in time.

C

Snipe’s world is out of sorts. The world is not in harmony because she should be here and she should be making tea. She should be turning to the door with that blue-ribbon winning smile as he offers her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She should be gazing into the corral of his eyes that he leaves open just for her.

She should not be gone.

Snipe slams his fist into the wall trimming, using the pain to pull himself back together. He doesn’t have time to waste. No time at all. Time that ticks down with every second he spends rummaging through the house, searching for any sign of where Chameleon might have taken her.

He’s nearly given up hope by 2:35, where he sinks to his knees and reminds himself to breathe. She will not die. She will be in his arms again. She will hide little love letters in his hat-shaped ring box that once housed her engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

Love letters. Without thinking, he opens the box and what should he find but a note? A blue, crumpled sticky note folded more haphazardly than the rest, and on it is a scribbled word in her handwriting: train.

The box falls to the floor and the door slams shut as Snipe leaps onto his horse and spurs the mare to motion, flying through the forest and into the open plains like a bat out of hell.

When a train comes into view, his eyes follow the tracks on an uncomfortably close trajectory towards two figures. He knows even as he urges Kuroashi faster that he won’t make it. 

At 2:59 he aims his gun.

. . . . .

The train is here. It’s close enough to feel the heat from its smoky breath as it rattles the tracks. All sounds drown out from the steady rhythm of chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo until my brain turns the cadence into an ominous Death is coming for you. 

The train is here. The train is here. Death is here and all I can worry about is whether or not Snipe will keep the box for my engagement ring. Will he hold it when he wants to remember me? Or will he get rid of everything so he doesn’t have to remember what he lost?

Chameleon’s timer goes off to the sound of a gunshot. 

Click. Clank. The switch lever swerves with the tracks and suddenly the train zooms past me, still far too close for comfort, but no longer on course to swallow me with its iron jaws. The warmth of the train mingles with adrenaline and suddenly I can’t stop wiggling and whimpering in my restraints, muscles buzzing as I fight to get off these damn tracks.

“More vocal now, huh?” Chameleon hisses, disappearing and activating his quirk just as Snipe rides into range.

“MMPH!” I try to warn him.

But his camouflaged offender sends him flying off his horse and into the dirt, gun still primed in his hand. He’s on his feet quickly, but what can he do? I watch helplessly as Snipe’s homing quirk becomes useless. How does one shoot what he can’t see?

My eyes scour the dirt, searching for footprints and other minute signs of his movement. When a cloud of dust swirls by Snipe’s feet, I thrash in my bindings, desperately trying to free myself and help him. My fiancé’s head arcs back into the ground from his unseen adversary, kick-starting my heart.

Blood drips from his nose as keen, pro-hero eyes start searching for the same tell-tale signs of Chameleon’s movements I’ve been watching for. It costs him a hit in the stomach and his ribs, but he analyzes his foe’s movements to reclaim the upper hand. Snake battles snake in the hot, barren plains while my body quivers with fear.

All it takes is another dust cloud and bam! Snipe wrestles the invisible villain into the ground, appearing to fight air until Chameleon relinquishes use of his quirk.

“Glad to see you’re still in tip top shape, Snipe.” Chameleon growls, turning his glare to me as Snipe pulls out the restraining tape. “But you cut it kind of close, and next time she won’t be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time if you’d prefer to keep breathing.” Snipe barks out, his voice feral and sharp.

Snipe gets Chameleon’s hands behind his back and calls the cops as he sprints in my direction. Calloused hands act as a balm to the tremors tainting my muscles. When he cuts the bindings loose, he grabs my face and presses his forehead to mine; we share each others’ oxygen, our eyes promising the other what our mouths can’t say right now - I’m here and you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere.

My life remains finite while stretching infinitely before me, stretching straight out for Snipe. 

I don’t ever want to let him go.

“You’re okay.” He whispers; it’s hard to tell whether he says this for me or himself. “Are you hurt? Did he do anything before he tied you up?”

“A few bruises and cuts.” My fingers card through his hair and slide down his cheek, soaking in every ridge and bump of his body. “And that’s only because I put up a fight before he got me here.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and the world clicks back into place.

The heat sears my body and pain torments my bones as I become abruptly aware of the world around me. His presence anchors me as I’m swirling dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness. He catches me with whispered coos, keeping me tethered for now.

“You’re having an adrenaline crash. And, hell, I can’t blame ya. But take a few deep breaths for me, okay, darlin’? Police should be here soon.”

It’s 3:34 when the police arrive to stuff Chameleon in the back of their car and EMTs arrive to check me for injuries. Only when the blinding blue and red lights disappear from my line of sight do I make myself stop counting the minutes.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Snipe whispers in my ear, securing a shock blanket around my shoulders.

“Not my house.” I whimper. “Will you take me to your place?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll keep you safe. Let’s go home.”

Want More Snipe? Try: Hanging Fire in the Pond

[agried]

Alkakurei Large-Scaled Event Speculation

i don’t really enstars post publicly, but i was thinking about the upcoming large-scaled event for alkakurei recently, and i had some speculations about some of the overarching themes involved. these speculations mostly draw on things brought up in !!era main story and ss arc, though some other stories do come up. 

admittedly, i haven’t been able to read ss finals or the majority of main story 1.5, but i’ve read all the alkakurei song event stories save both their climaxes (which i only read livetweets of) and nearly all the unit/tour event stories that are in engstars music, so i at least have an idea of the overall situation in es. if there’s something i got wrong though (main story is a tiny bit hazy to me, i’m trying to reread it for a deeper analysis of hiiro’s character development but it’s So Long), please let me know!

first off, it’s important to realize both alkaloid’s and crazy:b’s general positions in es as a whole. i think i saw a post a while back where someone was disappointed by alkaloid being less ‘protagonist-like’ than trickstar, as they didn’t really rebel in any major way against their situation or the capitalistic framework they were built on. however, they weren’t written to be that way. the group that resembles trickstar more, in terms of ideals, would actually be crazy:b.

this is mostly because of alkaloid’s position as the prototype for es’ mass produced idols. because of this status, alongside their newness, they rely very heavily on es’ benefits to succeed in the industry. es is happy to give that help, though, because their success is proof that idol mass-production is feasible and profitable. 

but if alkaloid chooses to not follow their rules, and are seen to be dissenting against es (this is brought up in graduation) or fall out of favor with es’ higher-ups (as seen in playing cards), they’re in danger of being disbanded or punished in some way. (though phantom airship mentions that they’re one of the up-and-coming new units of es, compared to units from !era who have experience outside the system and have more established fanbases, they’re still in a more tenuous position.)

in contrast, crazy:b has always been a lot more rebellious. while they were also forced into making a unit and ‘attacking’ existing es units in order to deepen those units’ bonds and help bring their problems to light so they could fix them, rinne notably turned the tables on es and also pushed his own goal of showing the problems and effects of es’ system to the public so that they’d be more aware of the darker side of the idol industry. though they were branded as troublemakers by es and were set to be dismissed once they were done with their attacks, rinne’s criticism of the industry made him and crazy:b champions of those who had been destroyed by or otherwise pushed out of it, leading the public to show their support for them, and ryuseitai, knights, undead, and alkaloid’s help also let them stay as a unit, validating their existence to es. 

how they were branded during the summer did affect their job opportunities and experience as well. because of their ‘troublemaker’ status, they weren’t sought out as much for jobs and instead had to look for ones (honey bee) or make ones (hot limit) that would accept them, making them generally more self-sufficient than alkaloid. this status allowed them to interact with more people outside of es’ influence, and get more in touch with those who shared their opinions on the industry, like beehive (night club). while i would say that cospro does support them, they aren’t as beholden to the company’s pressures as alkaloid is, since they don’t rely on it as much.

related to this, alkaloid and crazy:b’s members also have different personalities and different opinions on society and the idol industry. that’s a pretty obvious thing to say, but overall, while all of alkakurei are othered from society in some way (i could go on about this in a whole other analysis actually), alkaloid has been written to be more optimistic about society and the industry, and none of them are the type to rebel against either of those systems. aira even asked rinne “why do you have to go against the system? what’s so bad about it?”. as befitting their theme as ‘soldiers’, alkaloid is the obedient unit that follows orders. while they do sometimes twist what’s asked of them to their own benefit (they participated in mdm as asked by es, but also used their stage to keep crazy:b together despite es’ plans to discard them), in the end, they still follow the orders given to them.

crazy:b, however, are all a bit more disillusioned by society and the idol industry. rinne in main story mentions that he’s been called ‘wrong’ by society all his life, himeru is intensely aware of the stigma against his and kaname’s last name (from obbligato. also in night club, he expresses anger at society suppressing members of minority groups), similar to niki, who still is worried about joining the culinary world due to the rumors associated with his last name (hot limit), and finally, kohaku knows the darker side of society and the idol industry through his upbringing and through double face. they’re less idealistic, and more willing to defy what is considered ‘acceptable’ and speak out against it. (also, can i just say it’s delicious that the amagis are still following the footsteps of their past selves, with hiiro taking orders and rinne breaking them? ough, i have so many feelings.)

so why am i bringing this up? well, there’s been a lot of stories recently criticizing es and their monopoly on the idol industry. like the ss arc— the first story that came to mind was submarine, where the local idols begged ryuseitai to help them against the other es units who had systematically crushed them, as their fans had been poached to go to other areas where ss was taking place, and they were unused to the battle format that was instituted in okinawa (i’ve made jokes about the fact that there are so many stories that refer to es as “the big wave”, or as “an uncaring monster” that crushes everything in its path without remorse or malice. i feel like i run into them like every two big stories and i’m like “ah, it’s this again” lol). 

notably in the main story, the fact that alkaloid is the prototype for mass-produced idols isn’t actually addressed that strongly. i recall that alkaloid learned of it, felt bad about it, but then had to push it away in order to help crazy:b since they couldn’t really do anything about it. similarly, while crazy:b’s rebellion against the system revealed some of the problems with es, es still has been moving forward in such a way that many units have begun to disagree with, but that they seemingly cannot change.

this leads me to my speculation that in the alkakurei large-scale event, alkaloid and crazy:b will be set against each other in the midst of es’ industrialization and mass-production of new idols, with crazy:b rebelling against this development while alkaloid supports it as they don’t have the power to go against it. 

while this might sound extremely similar to the graduation event, i’m still leaning toward the idea of the two teams being set against each other, notably because for all other large-scale stories, all the characters who are 5 star cards in it are somehow against each other in some ways. graduation had subaru, supporting es, on one side and hokuto, against es, on the other, the ss finals cards were the members of the teams leading the red team and the white team, and altered/origin had eichi and rei, a member of ex-fine and a member of the five eccentrics. i don’t believe it will be like certain regular tours, where they aren’t actually in conflict. 

frankly, if the large-scale event isn't actually related to some of the units disagreeing with es, i have no idea what it'll be about. because even anzu is becoming more independent from es, which is a bad sign since she’s important to all the units to at least some degree, and she's been the eye of the storm for great change.

of course, akira could always be silly goofy and make everything i just speculated wrong, but there are definitely some interesting plot threads still somewhat loose for alkaloid and crazy:b, so i’m really hoping that they’re picked up in this upcoming event. i just feel like one of these days, there will have to be a story confronting es and somehow changing their direction, even just a little bit, because a lot of units have expressed disagreement with the way es is moving.

admittedly, i cannot say who will be the 5 stars for this event— out of all of the characters, i’ve heard that tatsumi and niki both haven’t had as much of their childhood backstories/their reasons to be an idol explored quite as deeply as some of the other members of alkakurei, but i personally expect the 5 stars to be hiiro and rinne since they’re the leaders of their units. also, i really like the idea that they’ve come full circle from mdm, with rinne now helping hiiro figure out a new way to move forward and achieve a dream that hiiro chose, for once. 

but who knows! we’ll have to wait for april to see. needless to say, i’m excited for what’s coming next, even if it turns out to be different from what i expect.

[ljubimaya]

Help, I think I'm getting sick :,))

[legacyofwalpurgis22]

just remembered i've got my last 2 final assignments for this sem due on monday (i have started neither and will not until like thursday or smth lmao) and i think this will be the end for me actually

[supernovaa-remnant]

..so I wanted to write a quick drabble for a snippet for an au I have, and it ended up being 1.6k words 😭

[ednaeflowers]

❛ kiddo—edna i— ❜ but he catches the rest of his words they spill onto the air as oral tradition. kratos’ days had been as clockwork long ago: wake up, eat breakfast, carry lloyd to primary school, work, leave work, meet his wife to pick lloyd up, home. it was a cycle always kept on rinse and repeat, that was until that one faithful day, until his route wasn’t so new day, same shit any longer. the one day he had to stay late with yuan to finish up the last bits of a presentation that was going to have cruxis ( the founder and pinnacle standard of all things magitechnology ): that he had first saw her, a girl that always seemed more half-wild and half-hallowed than a mere primary schooler.

it had started as all things, with small acts not meant to amount too much: a few extra sandwiches from work here and an old jacket or pair of jeans of lloyd’s there. that was in the beginning though and kratos aurion was far beyond the beginning. now, but he could recall it ever so bittersweetly. as how then his 5:30pms had been spent actively seeking the misplaced girlhood out whenever he could. she was always so shy and skittish, yet also forlorn ( a thousand yard stare filled with a million ghost eyes ): but, that was then and this is now. like genesis it started like so, but not as forbidden, but still forcibly as pulling teeth. she was snarky with massively spit fired tongue and quick witted enough to put yuan to great shame. yet, underneath kratos knows, had seen it all too well: that she was just a very sad and very alone little girl.

so, of course he begun gathering information here and there ( what was the point in being a high ranking member of cruxis if he couldn’t pull a few strings? ): but she, now known as edna, pulled and tugged and resisted as prey trapped inside a hunger hunters eyes. for naught but a moment, ephemeral and still closely guarded, the hollowness and snark within her seemed to disperse and she seemed to be so much more earthbound, so much more grounded in an assumption ( of remembering how it felt to be loved and cared for ): had she had let go of her walls, let the name of her only living family slip ( how she waited and waited and kept every letter as it was her own living gospel, as her own written alter of worship ): how the name of eizen tied with his military branch and deployment unit had connected far too easily, how shattered the lingering fragments of a girl whom now was lost amongst the pieces laid before his feet and kratos, even with his love by his side, wasn’t sure what to do.

but what else was kratos nor anna meant to do? it was the eve of nine months of … somewhat knowing her and kratos did what he could, what he was allowed to do ( a combination of what he thought was best, therapist advice, and what edna gave within arms reach ): but wasn’t this the purpose of abundance and adulthood, hadn’t this been the point of being able to provide in excesses for his family—to also give those without a home one too? grief did not have a time limit, even if we often wished it too. how could he compare ( kratos couldn’t nor would he ): maybe he could share the closest he’d ever been to loss, mayhap he could talk about the first women whom had ever loved him, before he even knew what he was to love and be loved: his dearest mother.

it is, however, a moment of sentimental frailty that is not meant to last: kratos wishes to speak on the love that can still be found, even within the loss, longing, and grief but would the words that he wanted to leave his tongue even come close to her, in the ways that he would hope would reach her? kratos’ soul twists and turns and bites at itself in a deplorable devoted act of self-punishment and within him is two beings chanting ( something about duty / something about god ): truly, even one blessed as he still held much sin between his teeth but where there was sin lay the grounds for redemption and repentance and divine self-sacrifice.

❛ eiz—he wouldn’t want you like this. to miss someone is a means of knowing how much you loved them. when it gets too much, ❜

it was spoken from experience, from a place of the purest love. in the doorway of her bedchambers was anna ready to jump need kratos find his words giving additional trials to the living embodiment before him, but his will and kindheartedness had gotten them to this point and it was an attempt, a closer attempt, and for kratos, that would be enough.

❛ whenever i miss her, my mother. ❜ because even a living god king could grieve, what was a man if not the grief of all those he loved and would ever love? ❛ i recall all the parts of her i loved, and yes it was everything, her laugh, the way she would hum while cooking stew, the smells of her favorite perfumes. ❜ but, as with all things, grief was still grief and it had no time limit. ❛ everyone, including myself at times, wants you to stop being sad but you, like myself: will never stop being sad. how could they ever expect you too, how could we? how could i? ❜

its the way he looks at her tucked in form, she was already incredibly small but this way she looked even smaller ( all the more childlike, all the more wounded ): and mayhap, he would have found some piece of beauty in this grotesque decadence ( death held much beauty, for it had once held life ): if only it had come as the payment for love, without the transaction of loss and for stolen happiness—but all he feels is sorrow and grief, sainted yet acrid, as in his soul festers a venomous blasphemous maw: the weary bones of a man only trying his best.

❛ it has been said time heals all wounds but i do not agree. much time has passed since the loss of my mother and i long for her embrace everyday, i have never once stopped. like you, i nearly lost myself or… did lose myself for much time within the sadness and grief. but, with time also brought the acknowledgment of accepting but never forgetting. even discussing her with you now, it hurts, my heart weeps but my soul doesn’t shatter, not anymore. ❜

that is, what kratos doesn’t say. he doesn’t say how his soul cannot shatter any longer because the soul of whom he had been before anna, before lloyd—before his family, edna included, had been broken into pieces that could never be put back together. his mind, having gone insane, had covered the hollowed memory with scar tissue to cope, but the pain had never left him and much like edna, would never leave him. ❛ when you no longer are lost in the grief, in the longing for, in the loss. ❜ gently, his hand extends to gently pat her hand, his eyes noticing how her sleeves had become soaked from her snot nose filled tears. ❛ we’ll be right here, edna. ready for you in whichever way you will permit us. ❜

because, sometimes life gave too much unhappiness and tragedy to those whom did not deserve it, least of all the flowering youth of tomorrow. kratos and the budding flower child before him where grief-stricken and desperate for the warmth of a summer that never came during their coldest and loneliest of winters but mayhap, together his family, their family could make even the closest of winters bestow upon their lives the warmest of sunlight upon their blossoming earth.

she is angry; she is enraged; she is indignant—she is crying.

this is not how she wanted him to find her: curled up underneath the blankets of her new bed, her eyes horribly sore and red, and the sleeves of her hoodie are left in dreadful tear-stained condition. it has been like this ever since she first arrived in this house: the sheets are different, and the walls aren't of the same wallpaper, and the furniture is all different, and the windows. the windows were normally small and showed a view of the oak tree just outside the apartment complex if the curtains were pried apart, and beyond that would be the sidewalk she usually treks on the way to school, and there'd sometimes be dried leaves sprawled all over the asphalt for her to crunch with her shoes if she's bored— and that, that's all gone now. it's all gone just like how onii-chan is gone.

she'd gotten the notice herself this morning, actually: the phone call received at 8 in the morning, a voice telling her that 'the body was confirmed dead at around the crack of dawn a few days prior,' then everything else became a blur until reddy found her during the usual 5:30 time in the early evening. she, of course, offered more bite to her barks, as it is usual routine between them, but each time, reddy still remained patient; unmoving, anchored, as stationary as the tall, sturdy lighthouses at the sea onii-chan sometimes shows her from the books he'd read on oceanography for fun. it annoyed her. annoyed her so much.

edna doesn't quite know how to describe their relationship. they aren't like her and meebo from school: meebo has the same long-suffering patience as reddy does while sitting through most of her shenanigans—but meebo is easier to talk with, and she hasn't exactly shown reddy the same non-hostile willingness yet. it was just weird to her, really. she and meebo are classmates, so it makes sense to talk with him. she pesters meebo all the time for homework answers, and pilfers his pens and eraser from his pencil case whenever he isn't looking, and occasionally swipes something random from his bentō during lunch before rubbing it in his face as he complains. reddy, though. she has no affiliation with him. he's just 'that one overstressed old man who likes feeding the alley cat on his way home,' or whatever analogy of an alley cat that exists. edna wouldn't know. all she knows is that reddy offers her things like one would to an alley cat. edna likes cats. she doesn't like reddy.

he should, realistically, have nothing to do with her: he's married and has a son a little younger than her and a busy job, as she had unwillingly learned from all of his unnecessary chitchat, and she has no parents or relatives—or a brother anymore. what does he do? he still somehow comes by at 5:30pm; suggests that she goes with him, implies that she doesn't have to be alone. it makes edna wonder if he's a masochist. he sure seems to act like one. she has seen him weary and tired, like he needs a really good shoulder massage, and thinks he should go to a retirement home already rather than dealing with her. he should leave her alone and go back to his wife and son, who are both waiting for him. he should take his pity and swallow it up like a fruit pit. he should vanish from her life just like how onii-chan vanished.

but no, he does none of that. instead, reddy takes her in; into his house, into his life, into his family's life. this room they're in right now, her new bedroom, is something that belongs to them. she should, realistically, not be here. she is not one of them, after all. it was always just her and onii-chan. there is no 'reddy' in the equation. ( there is no 'kratos' in this equation. same with 'anna' and 'lloyd,' and even 'noishe.' ) even though she very reluctantly accepted his offer to be here, she still shouldn't belong here. she needs a roof over her head, and food, and a nice pillow—but this place is not home. how can it be home when it doesn't feel like home despite reddy and anna having helped move her belongings in already? she reasons to herself that she can at least accept the hospitality because she feels guilty to impose on reddy's wife when edna's never even met her before until a few hours ago.

anna was... very kind to her when edna arrived. she doesn't tell reddy anything, that she actually likes anna for the warm welcome, but it still feels very odd. after all, edna has no idea who her mother was, and was raised with only onii-chan by her side. there was never an adult female in her life, excluding teachers, and now anna is suddenly here. surreal. anna is why edna chose to suck it up and bear with being in this new environment, if only to not disrespect the hospitality. ( and there's also reddy, who has been dealing with her even longer. he still annoys her, but he has never once tried to hurt her either. a sort of stalemate. )

when most of her things had been properly moved in and arranged, that had been when reddy and anna decided to leave her alone. that made sense to her, because it's late and people should be sleeping at this time anyway—but sometimes when you're in a brand new bedroom, lying in a brand new bed, having learned within the same day that your older brother died in the military, edna thinks there is nothing else one can do but cry, so she cries. she's wrapped in the brand new blanket and is crying. she's a quiet crier: she's always proud of that, still is—but tonight, she sniffles a little because there is a gap in her heart now, and it's a big, enormous, irreplaceable gap that's in the unmistakable shape of onii-chan.

and that's when reddy came back in the room. doesn't he know that you should leave a girl alone when she's crying? ugh, really, it irks her so much: how he tells her these things so easily, how he talks like he knows what she's going through, how he talks like he wants to understand her. he talks about his mother, the things he loves about her. edna tries to do the same; tries to think of onii-chan greeting her each morning with a smile as he pats her head, how he lets her have the bigger half of whatever he's eating, how he lets her have the tv remote when she wants to watch her cartoons even though he's still watching something else, how he labels the salt and sugar containers specifically for her—all the trivial, little things that meant something to her. it makes her eyes feel hot, and she is frustrated at herself for letting reddy see her like this. how did he even know she was crying anyway? stalker, she halfheartedly accuses, just to feel even a smidgen better. ( it actually works. )

but the most frustrating part to her is that she actually considers his words. she is angry. angry, angry, angryangryangry— angry at him for knowing what to say. onii-chan may be gone now, but life still continues on. ❛  all right, i get it already. i'm not going to mourn forever,  ❜ she grumbles, hoarsely. eloquence is not possible for edna when she's emotional. she also does not shake off his hand either. that makes him rather special, she supposes, because she doesn't even let meebo touch her. or anyone, really, other than onii-chan. but reddy is not onii-chan, and she's pretty sure he's too old for that role anyway, but she'd rather eat a pair of eyeballs than to call him anything synonymous to 'otou-san,' or 'dad,' or even 'father,' and definitely not 'papa.' it makes her grimace disgustedly as she rubs at her eyes again. ❛  i'll be better by morning.  ❜ she'll get up at dawn, lock herself in the bathroom to clean her face, and—

she pauses and squints. ❛  this—  ❜ she warns darkly, gesturing a finger vaguely between them, and knows that her threat isn't exactly convincing with her red eyes and wet cheeks and disheveled hair, ❛  —is only a one-time thing. got it, reddy? you do not tell anyone.  ❜ he'll probably tell anna, though. oh well. she grumpily wriggles and turns until she lies on her other side, her back facing him to hide her face, then curls into the blanket. she demands, ❛  and close the door when you leave,  ❜ as she rests her eyes. she doesn't turn around to look at him again. edna only planned to cry now, then clean up her face before breakfast, her first official breakfast here. it's impolite and uncouth to eat breakfast while looking like a raccoon's nest, so she needs sleep, and sleep she does.

it's enough, she thinks, drowsily, before everything turns black and flashbacks of onii-chan appear. they transition one by one, like old, grainy sepia films—then reddy's face suddenly pops up, and instead of sepia, it's full of color as he extends his hand to her, all welcoming and inviting. it's only a dream, she knows, so that's why she accepts it. it's a secret she'll take to the grave, she decides as she follows him, then he nudges her inside a house, one that is bigger than her apartment and full of homeyness and life. she enters, he closes the door, then everything is black again as she continues dreaming and dreaming of a new beginning: maybe she is throwing one of her normin dolls at reddy for another wisecrack comment, maybe she is helping anna rinse and chop vegetables for dinner, maybe she is helping sneak a cookie for small lloyd, maybe she is putting on a cat-eared hairband on noishe while he naps.

this brand new, unknown home? it's... enough.

reddy is... okay, for now.

( also: she never kicked him out. she really hopes she won't regret that in the morning. )

[flockrest]

Hi, another lurking anon. I kept re-reading "Cooking is Communal" post- sorry if that's not the title. I was very curious on your views of Revali's lonely nature (his personality). He feels somewhat abstract to the rito culture...? Or I might be reading into it too much.. And based on the AU- where he is brought back to life, would Tulin try to look for a way to break that lonely aspect of his? I would ask more? But I do not want to overlwhelm. But thank you so much for the posts you do about the Ritos though, its always an enjoyable experience and makes me think a bit more.

hi, welcome! no need to apologise for anything, very glad the post ( which can be called anything you see fit ) resonated with you to a point where you'd follow up on it! and oh boy. you are not reading too much into it, i have A Lot to say about revali and whatever the heck he's got going on with him and his Issues — of which his loneliness is a huge part of — and how that interplays with his people's culture and his love for them as a whole.

just to preface before we get into it: thank you lots for sending this in and for your kind words!! genuinely, it makes me beyond happy to know that my rambling is appreciated ♡ don't be afraid to ask me more if you'd like, i promise you won't overwhelm me because i'm a verified sucker for discussing meta in-depth!

i touched on this in the tags of the mentioned post but to me, pre-calamity revali does come across as someone who denies a lot of things ( very evident ingame ) and also denies himself of a lot of things — especially when it comes to anything that could be significant interpersonally! there's very clear implications that he's been lonely, if not completely alone, for a great bulk of his life; there are even clearer walls he's built up to cope with this and ensure that nobody can ever see or acknowledge this.

to paraphrase some old disco ramblings: he feels like someone who clings so damn hard onto this image he's carefully crafted for himself to present to others — presented for so long that it's not just a second skin so much as it is something deeply embedded — so that nobody can possibly suspect he is in any way lacking. not in skills, or grit, or the ability to be anything but most especially a champion.

or, you know, in any meaningful company at all.

and he just doesn't have the resources, emotionally or otherwise, to really let any of that peek through? he is so vehemently against this idea that he is not enough for anyone, including himself — admitting that he's lacking in any sense aligns with that. there's this line from when i was still testing him out that still stands out to me because i think it really just captures him in this context nicely:

Revali was born chosen by no one. He learnt, very quickly, to choose himself. And now, here he is.

we will never know for sure what his early life was like! but given the hints, there like. had to be a point where he accepted all the hurts of being alone, where he stopped earnestly trying to seek company and approval and being wanted from/by others because the only constant he had was himself. all he needs, an idea that forms at an early age and follows him into older youth, is himself — he can't be unreliable, he can't be conditional.

i think by that time, his seeking turns into something more like ensuring, if i'm making sense? like i don't doubt he's always strived for neverending self-improvement — half-out of a legitimate want to be better and half-out of a desire for attention — but now he's determined to make a name for himself, to make anything for himself, so that nobody can ever skip their gaze over him again. this isn't look at me, this is don't ever look away.

so he just. won't seriously admit to himself that he wants anything more from anyone pre-botw, which constrains any effort — from others or himself — to get closer, and like...be real with each other. to form an actual relationship. he still feels these desires, he just refuses to acknowledge them and it makes me want to shake him in a jar!! self-isolation at its finest! he puts up grandiose airs and all this pomp, because who else can he trust to do it for him! who else can he trust to see his "real worth", even as that's exactly what he's trying to get others to do! this guy is not okay!!

and! regarding rito village and their culture back then: i don't think it deviates from what i currently have in mind for them, but pre-calamity rito village feels like...it is not the same as post-calamity rito village. i think their flock was definitely bigger in that there were more people present and settled in those peaks in revali's era ( compared to both dineli's or tulin's ), so while core values and teachings remain unchanged, the sense of community does not.

it's always intense, but like. post-calamity rito village had to deal with the severe loss and trauma that calamity ganon wrought with him, which tinges their emphasis on togetherness with a touch of this is essential to our survival ( which may actually be a repeat of what happened with dineli's flock, mid- and post-the imprisoning war ). when revali was born, i feel like the community was much like a rural town with the ties the villagers had with each other; when he died, it was more like a covert — in that the world is suddenly way smaller and everybody is connected to everybody for their own preservation. and this is carried on to future generations, a lasting idea of flocking together is above all a priority, even for their travellers who leave the village behind for extended periods of time. i. honestly think this might count as intergenerational trauma?

( seriously, they are not a long-lived folk, yet the calamity has left such an indelible mark on them?? i'm so emo about how revali did not ask for a memorial, he asked for the flight range because it would be useful for him in the present and also for his people in the future, but they gave him this tragic permanency anyway. it's not a celebration of what he did, it's a commemoration to what he couldn't do; saki literally says, of revali's landing, "so named in the hope that none might forget the events of that horrible day". what a mournful way to frame it?! )

that is all to say: it's very plausible that the rito village revali grew up in would allow a solitary, neglected or orphaned fledgling to slip through the cracks. and maybe it's only initially, maybe it's just too late, maybe the fledgling then coats his own cracks over with a self-made balm and decides he won't let anybody make him feel lonely again and shuts himself entirely off, but. as i mentioned in the other study post, his lack of relationships wasn't always his fault, though it probably becomes so as he grows much older.

AND THE THING IS, revali doesn't stop caring about everyone ( and when i say everyone, i mean his people ). he can't! he can convince himself that he has no care for their affections ( and sometimes, he even fails this. he even fails this. i think about that diary entry where he talks about proving himself to the world when "the world" has done shit all for him, and i think about how a good percentage of his perception of "the world" was still narrowed down to his home then ), but he still loves them a great amount.

( to clarify: he cares for them the way you'd care for someone from a distance. you don't really know them, and you probably or would probably get along with them even less, yet you want to keep them around anyway. )

that's just something he's been raised with, steeped in because it's part of his culture, and also just. he's seen practically everything his village has to offer: perhaps all the worst parts in living through the bitterness of being lonely amongst a flock, but also all the best parts! sorry, i know i went absolutely off on how isolated he must've been and felt, but realistically his life couldn't have all been utterly miserable. fleeting joys are still joys! shallow connection is still connection! that came out harsher than i meant but the point is he genuinely loves his home and culture and people, even if his way of proving it is unhealthy and derives from a place that he definitely needs to go to therapy for ( i.e. his love for them is bound to his perceived self-worth. he has to "earn" his "right" to love them by excelling at what he does best, by being special enough, because he's unconditional with himself but they aren't! they aren't )!!

vaguely related, but this is, for me, why he never stops chasing achievements in combat. like ever. it's why rest/inaction forced by his severe injuries in the au where he survives is debilitating in more ways than one and emotionally frays him to a near-breakdown-turned-actual-breakdown. speaking of that, though!

yes!! yes, yes, tulin would absolutely be doing his best to bring revali back into their fold and make sure he stays there! you can see it in-play in my first thread with buck ( whose positively glorious revali can be found @/galestrings ♡ ); he's a kid who just so wholeheartedly believes in revali's goodness, refuses to not see the best of all his qualities, and so incessantly follows after him to Bond!!

i won't speak too much on this because i do want to continue seeing it play out with any revalis who would be willing to explore this with my tulin, but in connecting with him — even on a surface-level — i imagine that might provide a bridge to connecting with the rest of the village too! ( and it doesn't have to start with tulin, but i like my master-disciple bonds too much to let it not, in the case of my take on revali asflsd )

ANYWAY YEAH, that's what i have to say on this stupid bird vis-a-vis his loneliness!! god if you made it here without skipping over anything, i'm blowing you some friendly kithes. mwah mwah! hope i haven't chased you away with this, i'd love to hear your thoughts and receive more questions if you were so curious! thank you so much again for sending this in!! ♡

[malachitezmeyka]

Just remembered I stayed up until 5 a.m writing 2.6k of the filthiest smut I have ever written

[leatherbookmark]

it's half past 8am 20 to 9am and i'm feeling kinda. hmm. not exactly sleepy but i've been awake forrrrr 12 hours. どうすればいいか

[readers-folly]

... fifth page.

GOSH FUCKING DAMMIT IS THIS MY KARMA

[loonylupinblack3]

Go Slow

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), riding, (brief) dry humping

Summary: it's your first time and Logan tries to go slow, he really does, but some things just can't be helped

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: i'm not too practiced in smut so sorry if it's shit 😭

Logan knew you were on the shy side of things. During the start of your relationship he’d had to coax words from you, feelings and opinions you held until you felt comfortable enough to share them without being asked. You’d be nervous and fidgety when asking to see him, acting like he was an attractive stranger when he was your boyfriend. 

In all honesty though Logan didn’t mind. He enjoyed your shy, almost naive personality, and was more than happy to wait for you to be comfortable with him before suggesting going any further. 

Sure, it was difficult for him to wait, but not impossible. If his pants tightened slightly when you walked in the room with ridiculously short shorts and practically sat in his lap with them, you didn’t notice. When you were sleeping in bed together and would unconsciously rub yourself against him, causing him to have to leave the bed for a bit lest he did something he'd regret, you remained blissfully unaware. And if he was putting away your laundry and came across a pair of lacy black panties with bows adorning it, you wouldn’t even notice they went missing.

Logan was more than okay to wait.

You, on the other hand, were not.

It started with small changes in you and your actions, though Logan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. You were more flustered around him than usual, jumpier and shier than you’d been before. You were quieter too, staring at him with more intensity than before, as if trying to read his mind. Yet it wasn’t as if you were pulling away from him, because you were much more touchy and clingy than usual, always needing to hold him and often being the initiator of any make out session you two might have- which is as far as you’d gone.

It was during one of these sessions, having started when you both grew bored of the movie playing on the screen, that you started straddling Logan, kissing him with more fevor than you usually did. Surprised, though certainly not disappointed, Logan kissed you back, hands resting on your thighs and occasionally running up and down them when his control slipped.

When he felt you rock against him slightly he knew something was up. You were never this forward with him, and was always the one to stop Logan when he got a bit carried away. Yet there you were, gently rocking against him while you kissed, moving against his jeans almost desperately, rubbing against him until there was a rock hard bulge for you to move against and Logan had to gently push you off him.

Immediately you started apologising, looking at your hands nervously fidgeting with your t-shirt, refusing to so much as glance at Logan.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright Bub,” Logan said gently. “I just don’t want to do anything before talking about it first.”

You risked a glance at him, trying to find any lie in his face. “You’re not angry at me?”

Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about upsetting you further. “‘Course not. I fucking loved that, actually, but we can’t do it, or anything like that, without talking about it first. I gotta make sure you’re okay with it.”

You nodded your head with such eagerness Logan’s cock twitched in his pants. “I’m okay with it.”

He smiled at your needy demeanour and had to hold himself back from gladly going along with it. “What exactly do you want, Sweetheart? I gotta know that.”

You bit your lips shyly, glancing up at him from your lashes in such a way Logan was tempted to be fucked with all of this and just take you. He’d been waiting for months, however, so he could certainly wait a few more minutes, and restrained himself as such.

“I want to feel good,” you mumbled quietly. “Want you to make me feel good.”

Oh fuck.

Logan wasn’t sure he could handle this. Desire was coursing through his veins, his cock was throbbing almost painfully against his pants as he watched you, shy and naive but so wanting for him.

“Alright Bub, we can do that,” he eventually said, because fuck he wanted to make you feel good too. He wanted you moaning and whimpering his name, whining and panting underneath him because of him.

Yet as soon as he had you undressed and under him he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted. You looked petrified, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for Logan to enter you, and that just wouldn’t do.

“I’m not doing this Sweetheart,” he said, moving away.

You opened your eyes, seeming both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “What? Why?”

Logan sighed, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing your neck. Even with both of you naked it was surprisingly not desire filled and simply comforting. “Because you obviously don’t want it.”

You shook your head and turned around to face him, straddling him in a similar position as before. “I do want it. Just… it felt a bit scary like that.”

Logan thought about her words for a moment before inspiration struck him. “Do you want to ride me instead?”

You actually gasped, your eyes widening at the suggestion, yet he could also see the desire radiating off of you- he could smell it too- and feel the slick coming from your cunt at the thought. He smirked, taking that as a yes.

“I’m going to lift you up and slowly place you down on me. You can stop me at any moment, okay?” he asked you, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with this.

You nodded your head, looking apprehensive but also excited, as you glanced down at his hard on, licking your lips slightly. “I don’t know if it will fit.”

Logan nearly groaned then and there. “It will.”

Hesitant but sure, you let Logan’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, positioning his cock at your entrance. He gave you a few seconds to back out, and when you didn’t, staring at him confidently, Logan sunk you down on his cock.

Fuck even just his tip inside you felt like heaven, your cunt squeezing against him. You let out a gasp and he hesitated, waiting, and you slowly nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to continue. He did so gently, making you take him inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to get used to the feeling of him until you’d finally taken all of him inside you.

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock was heavenly. He could barely think, and all he wanted to do was fuck you hard and fast, chase the release he so desperately wanted. Yet he waited for it to feel comfortable for you, waiting for the pain to ease before he did anything.

“Okay… what now?” you asked in a timid voice.

Logan had to muffle the sound threatening to escape him at the sight of you blinking bashfully at him while he was inside you. It was too good to be true.

“Now you move,” Logan said roughly, because he didn’t trust himself to move and not fuck you viciously like he wanted to.

You thought for a moment before giving an experimental rock, gasping at the pleasure accompanying the action. You repeated the rock again, then again, creating a slow but sure movement that was slowly killing Logan.

Every sway of your hips, the way you rode his cock eagerly if not skillfully, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it baby,” he rasped. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me baby.”

You rolled your hips, whining at the praise and closing your eyes but only increasing your motions, one hand moving up to cup your breast. You grounded onto him, gasping when he hit that perfect spot, whispering Logan’s name like a prayer

He swore at the sight, and couldn’t help the jerk his hips made, a small gasp escaping you. It felt so good, the spike of pleasure overwhelming and your readily response too much, and he did it again.

You moaned this time, a dirty, high pitched sound that was ringing in Logan’s ears, urging him on as he took your hips in his hand and lifted you up, only to slam you down on his cock again. Your moan was delicious, and you placed both your hands on his chest, moving forward to make him go deeper.

Logan did groan this time, and used your hips to continue moving you on his dick, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You were a whining mess, eyes glazed and body limp above him.

“Feel so good,” Logan grunted, thrusting into you. “So fucking good for me.”

You whimpered, gasping as your eyes fluttered closed again. Logan grinned.

“You like that baby? You like me telling you what a good girl you’re being, riding my cock so prettily.”

Your moans came more frequent, panting every second, and Logan could tell you were close. He increased his pace, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him, and wasn’t disappointed by the result.

“Come on baby, cum for me.”

With a cry you threw your head back, ecstasy painting your face as you came, your walls tightening. The feeling of them squeezing Logan’s dick, your cunt milking it for all its worth was too much and he felt himself fall after you, his load of cum shooting into your already stuffed hole.

“Fuck baby,” he cursed, helping you ride out both your highs, moving your hips over him.

You were still panting as you slowly came down from your high, boneless as you laid against Logan’s chest.

“You did so good for me darling,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You let out a sound, nuzzling his neck, and he happily held you against him, pressing kisses to your face and neck till you were ready to move.

[loves0phelia]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve watched part 2 of outer banks yet, and if you didn’t this request is a spoiler!!

Can you do JJ Maybank’s sister seeing him die and Rafe is just watching her break down and he’s comforting her while she cries in his arms? I’m sobbing over JJ right now 😭

Thank you!

Gone

Summery: outer banks season 4 episode 10/the anon

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS, death, grammar mistakes.

A/N: i also sobbed, i cant believe it and thank you for requesting love youuu.

The sandstorm hit suddenly. The air was thick, nearly solid with dust. You stumbled forward as the wind blew strongly, You screamed, begging JJ to come down before something terrible would happen but even if you pulled the scarf tighter across your nose and mouth every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass making it hard to speak. 

Everything was clouded and your goggles were smeared with sand dust. It was impossible to see your brother who was up high on that statue trying to find the blue crown you, the pogues and Rafe have been risking your lives for.

“Come down JJ!” You screamed as loud as you could, hoping he could hear you over the screaming wind. 

A surge of panic rose in you, he wasn't listening, only going higher and higher to reach the top.

“Hurry please!” You screamed again as the sandstorm was getting worse and worse. Squinting your eyes you could see JJ finally descending the statue after a while, carefully holding on to the rock.

“JJ, holy shit are you okay?” You rushed forward to him as he stumbled around frantically.

“I'm good! I'm better actually, I'm great. Look!” he yelled over the storm and held up the blue crown, it felt like a dream having it in front of you.

“No way, you found it” You both looked down at the dusty historical crown in silence for a second, sinking in it the victory that was so rare when it came to you and your twin.

“We got it!” He cheered, pumping his fist, jumping into place from all the adrenaline. The victory cheers didn't last long though, the next thing you knew shots were fired at you from the group who wanted to steal what was rightfully yours.

“Run, run, run” JJ shouted behind you as you ran through the sand blindly and desperate to find shelter.

The sandstorm roared with life around you, Yours and JJ's footsteps vanished almost as quickly as you made them, erased by the wind.

You coughed, your lungs stinging as you struggled to run down the stairs you had found leading inside the monument. 

But suddenly, a shadow appeared out of the storm. A strong hand gripped your forearms and in a sudden movement, your back was pressed on your “father's” chest, an arm around your neck holding on tightly, cutting your airflow and a sharp blade pressed into the side of your face.

“JJ!” you called out, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let her go!” JJ shouted, his voice trembling with anger. He lunged towards you trying to rip you away from him but he only pressed the blade harder making you cry out. But Groff only shook his head.

You cried, struggling, and your heart pounding as Groff’s grip tightened. You fought against him, but his hold was unbreakable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Groff hissed, his gaze cold and unmoved. “Always standing in my way. Well, this time, you’re not going to stop me. Give me what I want”

“Let her go” He begged.

“If you had listened, we wouldn't be here JJ, you could have had everything. WE could have had the life we deserved as a family. All three of us. But now you get nothing. Nothing at all” Chandler pants like a maniac.

“I already have everything,” JJ says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have everything I ever wanted. You want the crown? Sure, take it. I don't want it. Just let my sister go.”

“Give it to me, hold it out” He reached toward JJ for the precious object, his grip on you not loosening.

In a swift moment, an exchange was made. Groff grasped the crown, and JJ pulled you out of his arms.

“I got you” JJ breathed out with relief, like a weight was removed from his shoulders. He hugged you protectively. Holding your head against his shoulder like a shield. But then again, the victory was cut short.

“JJ, y/n” you were interrupted by the voice of your father, his call made both of you separate and turn to face him, JJ’s body still shielding you from further harm.

“It's a shame…you and I” You furrowed your brows and a gasp came out of your mouth when the sound of flesh being pierced rang out. 

“You should have given me the rope” Time was moving at a slow pace as the scene unfolded. Groff twisted the knife in JJ's stomach before pulling it out rapidly and running out into the desert.

"JJ!" You screamed, your voice raw with terror. You saw JJ stumble back, his hands flying to his side. Dark red blood was spreading through his shirt and across his fingers, and the sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

The world narrowed to the scene in front of you as you watched JJ fall, his face contorted in pain. 

“No, no, no” you cried, desperation thick in your voice.

You rushed to JJ’s side, catching him just as he stumbled. He looked up at you, his face pale and stained with tears.

“It's okay JJ, it's okay” You pressed into his wound, shaking terribly, sobbing when he let out a pained groan.

“No, please” you murmured, pressing your hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Hey, hey,” He whispered, his voice breaking. “Take care of the others for me, okay?”

“No! No” Your breaths shakes, your chest tight with sadness.

“I love you, y/n. You're the best sister anyone could ever have.” His gaze was beginning to drift, his eyes unfocused, and the strength in his grip was fading. Panic clawed at you.

“I love you, please don't go” you begged, but it was pointless he was already gone.

“No! No, no. Please! JJ, please” you shaked his shoulder weakly.

“John B!” You screamed, your chest burning from the lack of oxygen your lungs were getting.

“Pope! Rafe!” Your hands gripped your brother refusing to let go.

“Please JJ!” Your heart shattered completely, a part of you gone forever. Your brother, your twin, your best friend, the other half of your soul, gone. 

“Please” You pressed your forehead against him, your tears falling over the blood-soaked shirt.

The pogues came running towards you, sinking to their knees, calling out to him, crying, sobbing, mourning.

Everything in you gave out as you held onto him, you couldn't even fight when hands grabbed onto your shoulder to bring you away from your brother's corpse.

Your body fell limp into Rafe's lap. His hands held your body up as if he was your lifeline. 

“It's gonna be okay” He whispered against your forehead but you barely registered any of it, only sobbing, and screaming in pain against him. 

The Pogues stood in a tight circle, all eyes fixed on JJ as if somehow their stares alone could bring him back. But no one spoke, and in the heavy silence, the truth crashed over them, settling deep in their bones. JJ was gone.

Kiara’s shoulders shook, a small, trembling motion that quickly overtook her entire body. She fell to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth as she fought to hold back the sobs. 

Pope was beside her, his eyes frantically looking over the scene, he didn't want to believe any of it, as if it was a cruel joke.

John B stood, rigid.  His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his jaw was set, teeth gritted as he tried to hold it all in, to keep the pain from breaking him apart. 

Rafe's arms wrapped around you gently, his hand resting on the back of your head as he let you fall into his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, the grief and sorrow pouring out in waves as he held you.

He didn’t speak of the rivalry, the old wounds and the bitterness between your families; none of that mattered now. At this moment, all he saw was your pain, and he was there, his own heart breaking a little as he watched you crumble.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted, Rafe pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen in him before—softness, understanding. 

“It's okay,” he murmured, his voice a promise, his hand gentle as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You sat on the sand as a fire crackled in front of you, you had just buried him, the silence was thick nobody wanted to believe the truth. 

Your head pounded, even when you were softly laying on Rafe's legs using them as pillows. His calloused fingers gently rubbed your hair and you tried to concentrate on the movement in an attempt to forget about the previous moment but you failed.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon” Rafe whispered above you, making your eyes open and looking up at him. His eyes met yours and he continued.

“If he was my friend or my brother… I would go after the guy that just killed him” The mention made your heart burn but he had a point.

“He's not wrong” Kie whispered, agreeing with your inner thoughts. You snuggled against Rafe's legs one last time before sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“JJ would already be on his way to kill him if it was one of us,” you said and everyone's eyes snapped towards you, those were the first words you had spoken since it happened. 

“He'd get even,” John B added.

“Let's get revenge,” you said, your voice more confident than it was before, you felt a hand grasp onto yours and slowly you turned your head to face Rafe. He nodded and tightened his grip in a comforting way, never letting go.

Send request please xx

[ljubimaya]

I have realized that this short and fun fic is not gonna be as short and fun as I have originally intended

[chocolilies]

─── SWEAT. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. fushiguro toji x fem!teacher!reader. . .ᐟ

toji comes to pick megumi up from his training, expecting to be met with his white-haired asshole of a teacher, only to meet gojo's newer, cuter replacement.

◟ꪆ୧ slight nsfw (toji stares at reader's tits, reader imagines getting groped by him), au where toji is alive + takes care of megumi, bold yet sneaky flirting, megumi's in middle school. wrote this on a whim bc i need toji BAD.

w.c: 1.6k

also on ao3 + jjk masterlist !

“that’s your dad?”

you’d heard mention of fushiguro toji before, whether it be from his son or from gojo as he had explained how he’d let the “sorcerer killer” live under the promise of taking care of the boy that was now standing at your side. 

“don’t you dare.”

megumi gritted his teeth as he watched you goggle at the man you were approaching, hand wrapped around your wrist as if he was pulling back a dog on a leash, and by the way you were staring at toji, he might as well have been. 

“what!?” you let out an offended gasp, turning to look at your glaring student, tiny face scrunched up in disgust at the mere thought of what was going through your brain. 

“i know what you're like.”

you froze in your place, horrified expression framing your sweaty face as the cicadas roared around you, framing the silence after that comment in an almost comedic manner. 

you watched as megumi continued to walk ahead, a bored look on his face once he turned around to wait for you to catch up at the edge of the tiny wasteland you’d both been training in, letting you wonder as you caught up to him just what gojo had told him before he’d first introduced the both of you.

you started spluttering out a mix of words in disbelief once you reached his side, but whatever you’d tried to say immediately got stuck in your throat as soon as you finally caught a better look at the man that had sparked the short lived argument.  

oh, fuck.

“who’s this?” you watched attentively as the muscles in toji’s arms bulged beneath his tight shirt at the tiniest movement, feeling your mouth water at the mere sight of them. 

god, you felt dirty just staring at him.

“my teacher.” megumi grunted, shoving his backpack off and flinging it into his dad’s chest, walking towards the bus stop further ahead without bothering to say goodbye, knowing he’d see you around sooner or later. 

“I thought that white-haired brat was his teacher,” toji grunted out, flinging the backpack over his shoulder as he turned to look down at you, quirking up a brow as he immediately noticed your nervous demeanour, a drop of sweat dripping down your temple before rolling down your neck and towards your exposed cleavage, green eyes following it’s whole journey and lingering on the spot where it disappeared.  

it’d been a while since toji had stared at someone this way. he hadn't looked twice at anyone, regardless of their attractiveness or willingness, ever since his wife died and tsumiki’s mom left. 

but that amount of time without anyone to touch or kiss or feel would have its toll on anyone, and toji was no exception. 

which is why he initially blamed it on that. 

neediness.

he doesn't feel anything for megumi’s teacher, you’re just too pretty and exposed and worked up to ignore, right? it’s not like he’d actually think of pursuing something with you. 

he snapped out of it once you spoke, expecting to meet an angered expression and an insult about his perversion once he raised his gaze, only to find you straight up ogling his arms and chest. 

the way he stares at your pretty, scrunched up face when you aren't looking, proves him wrong.

initially, you might've been able to attribute your clammy palms and sweaty skin to the blasting summer heat, or to the fact you’d just finished a four hour training session with the tiny grade two sorcerer who gojo had been training for the past few years. 

“I'm his co-worker,” you stuttered out, forcing yourself to look away from the veins that swelled in his arms and up to his green eyes, not wanting the man to see just how much he was affecting you. “satoru’s on a mission, so I'll be taking care of ‘gumi ‘till then.”

toji hummed, taking your gawking as an invitation to do his own, allowing his eyes to trail over your flustered expression and sweaty skin, lingering on the more exposed parts of your outfit, thanking whatever god was up there for the stupid heatwave that had hit their country as of late. 

“mission, huh?” toji snickered, turning his head to look at the boy who was sitting at the bus stop with one of the divine dogs at his side, resting his tired body against its black fur. “how long will y’be around?”

“well, until ‘toru comes back, I guess…” you trailed off, mouth going dry as you watched the man take a tiny step towards you, raising one of those big hands you’d been ogling before to brush against your cheek, a shiver wracking through your whole body at the light contact, his skin burning against yours, making you just how a man that ran as hot as that was able to survive in this weather, especially when he dressed like it was winter.

“y’had some dirt on y’cheek,” toji almost purred out, flicking his fingers to get rid of the grime that had probably stuck to you during the many times megumi’s divine dogs had flung you around. 

“oh, I'm probably covered in dirt,” you laughed out nervously, taking a step back to put the same distance as before between you two, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand while trying to ignore how electrifying his touch had felt. “I always seem to find myself taking an everything-shower after training with ‘gumi, he’s ruthless.”

toji fell silent, watching you as you shook your arms and head, probably trying to get rid of whatever debri that was still stuck to your body, grin pulling at the scar in the corner of his lips. “need me t’clean you up, that what you're saying?”

huh? 

you blinked stupidly as your mind attempted to process what he had just said. were you misunderstanding his words or his tone? or was he really suggesting what your mind had immediately jumped to?

that was not what you were saying, but you certainly would not be complaining if he did. 

you felt your cheeks warm as you imagined what that might look like: big, warm, calloused hands on your skin as you stood under the steady stream of the shower, hot water pouring over the both of you as he dragged a sponge over your skin, free hand resting on your tummy right above where you needed him most, groping and caressing the plus skin, body pressed tightly against his in such a way that you could just feel his growing cock pressing against your ba-

oh, what the fuck.

you imagined punching yourself in the face, snapping you out of the downright filth you were acting out in your mind with a man you had just met, not to mention, the father of your student. 

“jeez, pick your jaw up, ‘m messing with ya.” you grunted as two of his fingers landed under your chin, shoving your mouth shut with a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten such a reaction out of you with a mere joke. “‘s not appropriate f’me to flirt with ‘gumi’s teacher.”

“s-sorry.” you struggled to even push out that simple word, trying to figure out just what the hell had gotten into you to make you act like this, not even processing the fact that he had just admitted to flirting with you. 

were you ovulating? was it that time of the month already? or was toji’s overwhelming presence truly just enough to get you acting like a bitch in heat?

“old man,” you snapped out of it as you heard megumi shout out for his father from behind you both, “bus is coming.”

toji chuckled, raising a thumbs up to the boy in response before turning back to look at you, taking in your shaky figure with a smirk.

“which means I'll just hafta wait ‘till that blue-eyed brat comes back and you're not his teacher anymore.”

you blinked owlishly up at him, and toji could just see the cogs whirring and moving around in your mind, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. 

“give me y’number once he does. hope that offer to clean you up will still be available by then.” 

god, he was a big fat liar. if he had been telling the truth before, he would not be asking that, he would not be (for once) looking forward to seeing that white haired bastard, as it would mean he would be free to pursue you. 

toji walked away after dropping that bombshell, not having to turn to look at you to know that you were staring at him walk away, ignoring the way his son was glaring at him while he held a hand out to stop the bus. 

“what?” he grinned, pulling their transport passes out as the bus opened its doors, megumi’s divine dog curling around the boy protectively like it usually did. “your teacher's hot,”

“you disgust me,” megumi deadpanned, snatching the pass out of his father’s hand before boarding the bus, dog quickly following up the step with a wag of its tail, phone already out and ready to message tsumiki to complain about their father, leaving toji to do the same. well, not before he turned to sneak a final look at you. 

you had walked away from the field, heading towards a black car nearby he assumed had been sent by the school, phone in hand as you talked into the speakerphone, shaky voice ringing out in such a way even he could hear it. 

“ieiri, how wrong would it be for me to hook up with a future student’s father?”