#Have to literally walk away from the table because i want to stab his eyes with chopsticks.

[delightful-69]

Literally every conversation with them be like

"That doesn't sound right, but i don't know enough about [subject] to dispute it"

[bleucaesura]

OVER YOU - 2 / 2

Verosika clutched the table’s edge as she steadied her breaths, her song ‘Over You’ playing on the house speakers.

Ever since you went away

I’ve been haunted, haunted

She glared down at Blitz’s cake torso, contemplating taking another stab at his dick.

What in the actual fuck was that?

She turned back to the party, grabbed the drink out of the hands of the first person who walked by and chugged it in one go.

Had Blitz actually APOLOGIZED to her? Fuck. Satan fucking dammit.

I always get whatever I want

She crushed the drink cup in her hand, squeezing her eyes tight in anger.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to go back up there and scream at him for all the hurt he’s caused her.

And I wanted,

Verosika turned to look up at the balcony as Blitz’s feet disappeared from over the edge. Moments later she saw his sheeted figure slink down the stairs and slip through the dancing party guests.

Her heart sank. She couldn’t do it. Before their talk she could have ripped him apart with no remorse. She would have relished it. But now.

Now?

I wanted you

Verosika watched his retreating figure. He seemed so fucking small. Smaller than she’d ever seen him. A literal ghost of his former self.

Her heart clenched.

Why the fuck did he have to go and apologize? Why the fuck hadn’t he been able to apologize before now?

So now I’m drawin’ circles in the sand

Verosika heard Stolas’s giggling laughter over the booming music of her song. She looked over at him, dancing and smiling with the handsome ‘bird stealing cockbag’ incubus.

Try’na understand how you do the things you do

Of course…

Reality dawned on her.

Blitz hadn’t loved her. But he obviously loved Stolas.

Fuck…

Baby, I’m not over it

But I’m over you

Fuck… Was she… Was she JEALOUS? Maybe?

No… Yes?.. No.

Fuck…

I’m over you, you you

No. Not jealous that Blitz had fallen in love with Stolas instead of her.

But, jealous of the love that Blitz and Stolas so obviously shared for each other.

Baby, I’m not over it

Well, fucking GREAT!

Now she felt like shit for encouraging Stolas to dis Blitz on stage and for telling Blitz to walk away from Stolas.

Just. Fucking. GREAT…

But I’m over you

“FUCK!” Verosika screamed at the ceiling, clenching her fists at her sides and stamped her foot angrily. A few party goers jumped away from her, startled. Others scuttled off, frightened.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” she muttered under her breath, as she rubbed her hands over her face in frustration.

This was going to be a long night.

I’m over you, you you

Verosika stood up straight, smoothed her hair and put on her biggest smile.

Sometimes it still hurts a bit

She scanned the dance floor, easily spotting Stolas, and headed straight for him. It took longer than she wanted to reach him because she had to be a gracious hostess along the way; smiles, high fives, butt wiggles, bump’n grinds. But she made it.

Verosika cringed. Stolas was sloppy making out with the incubus and was obviously very very drunk.

Fuck me…

Sometimes I’m so full of shit

“Hey’a hun.” She tapped the incubus in the shoulder.

Startled, he promptly dropped Stolas in a heap on the floor.

Verosika heaved a sigh and bent to help Stolas up. The Incubus went to help but Verosika put a hand on his chest to stop him. She looked him in the eye and shook her head. He looked conflicted, but relented and stepped back.

But this much is true

“I think it’s time to get you home, baby.” Verosika pulled a giggling Stolas up off the floor. She wrapped an arm protectively around his waist, tossing his arm over her shoulders.

“But, I’m having so much fun!” Stolas laughed as he wobbled beside her.

Baby, I’m not over it

I’m over you

Verosika caught Tex’s eye across the room and nodded for him to open a portal. In a moment he had one open into Stolas’s palace bedroom. Tex scooped Stolas up in his arms, Verosika stepped through the portal and Tex followed closely behind.

The noise of the party dimmed as they passed over threshold into hell. The music drifted in after them.

… It’s done … I’m covered in ashes…

… I still feel the same …

Tex laid a giggling Stolas on the bed and left back through the portal.

… no one left to blame …

“Thank you for inviting me.” Stolas drunkenly tossed his hat on the floor and snuggled his face into his pillows. “I had such a lovely time.”

Verosika picked up his hat and placed it on the bedside table. She then unbuckled the clasp at his throat and helped him out of his cape.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Verosika smiled as she pulled a blanket over him.

“Anytime.”

“Mmmnnnn.” Stolas smiled and snuggled his face into his pillows and blanket. Shortly afterward all she could hear was soft hooting snores coming from his pile of pillows.

… I’m not over it …

… over you …

Verosika turned to leave, stopped, turned back, lifted Stolas’s blanket and patted his pockets until she found his phone.

… I try to look ahead…

She called herself from his phone, hung up, took out her phone and quickly sent him a text.

”Hi Sweetie 💖 It’s Verosika 😈 Call me anytime 💋”

She made sure her text went through then placed Stolas’s cell on his bedside table.

She turned back to the portal to leave, but then she heard his phone buzz.

… I look back instead …

Verosika’s curiosity got the better of her, so she turned around and picked up his phone again. The screen unlocked. She shook her head and chuckled.

Oh, Stolas, baby… Gonna have to talk to him about passwords and locking his phone.

There was a new message from Blitz.

… I’ll get over it …

“im sorry for evrythng 💔”

I got over you

Dammit Blitz…

Verosika smiled to herself, tears welling in her eyes. She placed Stolas’s phone on his bedside table, conversation open so Stolas wouldn’t miss Blitz’s message when he woke up.

These idiots better fucking sort their shit out.

… got over you

She hopped through the portal and it closed with a pop behind her.

… over you

[lovifie]

I have something more to say about little organ stealer Johnny.

Tw: blood play, implied kidnapping, Johnny literally steals your kidney. DD:DNT, if this is not your cup of tea just ignore it 🩷 I'm not adding anyone from the taglist because I don't want to push it into somebody who's not into it

Dark | Suggestive | 657 words | Back to Masterlist

After waking up in the tub, the water around you icy cold with a few ice cubes left and a slight pinkish tone to it; you stand up, seeing the message and the name sewn into your body.

You push yourself to walk out of the room, your body barely responding to your wants by the loss of blood and the hypothermic state. Still, you manage to reach the table beside the sofa where the phone is supposed to be, but the earpiece is missing.

You need to lean onto the table when you bend forward, a stabbing pain in your abdomen making your stomach turn. It makes you focus on your hands, your shaking, cold and blue under your nailbeds hands; to try not to empty your stomach.

After a minute, you manage to stand up straight again. Well, as straight as you can be when you feel the need to stay bent forward so you don't feel the stitches pop open.

Looking around to try and find the damn phone, so you can call the police and tell them a fucking psychopath stole one of your vital organs.

Except you don't find your phone, you find the psychopath.

Standing in your kitchen, cooking, naked and with an apron.

Your apron!

The part of your brain that has seen too many action movies tells you to throw the living room chair at his head, but the other part of your brain, that has seen too many murder documentaries; tells you to slowly walk to the front door and escape while he's distracted.

And you start to believe it is going to work, until you try to turn the knob and the lock keeps the door from opening.

"Where're ye going?"

The little blood on your body left runs cold, the man's voice making you feel more frozen than when you were inside the freezing bathtub.

He can only see your back, licking his lips like a wolf at the sight of your trembling naked body. He walks up to you, making as little noise as possible only to make you jump when you suddenly feel his warm chest on your back, making him smile.

"Aren't ye a sight for sore eyes..." He whispers in your ear making you squeak like a little mouse that just stepped on a glue trap.

He presses his nose to the side of your face, inhaling your aroma and he groans at the bloody smell. "Ye haven't showered after your little bath, dove... I can smell yer blood on yer skin..."

You feel his face move to your back, his hands resting over your hips and then feel his warm wet tongue lap at your nape like a wet cloth.

You simply stay frozen, confusion and fear keeping you from moving meanwhile he keeps licking the skin of your back. From one shoulder to the other, like a dog with a bone. You feel the droplets of drool fall down your back, hearing him groan against your skin and a presence you'd rather ignore probing at your asscheek; the apron the only thing in between.

It's when he starts to get too excited, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips that you hiss at the feeling of the sutures being pulled. You worry that it may infuriate him that you interrupted his little session but then his demeanour changes.

The big hungry wolf turning into a sad puppy right before your eyes. Hugging you from behind making you tense even more if that is possible as he kisses your neck. "I'm sorry, lass... Didn't mean to hurt ye, ye just taste so good..."

He pulls back, almost whining for having to pull away from you. "C'mon, breakfast done."

So you turn around, wishing your friend had never come to visit, so you wouldn't be about to have breakfast, naked, with the man who stole your kidney the night before.

[quillsareswords]

Soft as Snow

DAMIAN WAYNE X READER

SUMMARY: You and Damian finally get to enjoy a Chistmas in your new home.

A/N: Merry late Christmas and happy holidays! I meant to do a writing week along side this, but things got kind of crazy. This was actually part of a Secret Santa I participated in with some other writers here on Tumblr! I drew @unmotivatedwrit3r! Hope you like it bb :)

Other participants: @citrinesparkles @birdy-bat-writes @glorified-red

WARNINGS: language

MASTER LIST in BIO

DECEMBER 5TH

   He hadn't expected you home until this evening, but your shoes are sitting beside the landing table, beneath the coat hooks, when he gets home. "Beloved?" he calls, hanging his peacoat beside yours.

   "Kitchen!"

   He follows the sound of your voice down the entry hall. He habitually glances into the living room on his way past. Your canvas shopping totes are set on the coffee table, shades of red and green peeking out from inside. He recalls you commenting this morning that you'd stop for groceries on your way home. He should've expected this.

   You're standing in front of the coffee machine when he rounds the doorway. In front of you, stacks of mugs. You smile brightly at him. "Hey! You're home early."

   He peers into the cupboard as he sidles up beside you. You've pulled every mug from the shelves; all shapes and sizes spread and stacked between the wall and the edge of the counter. He hadn't realized there were so many. "So are you."

   You shrug, setting the last of them—a white mug with some vulgar phrase written in cursive—among the rest. "I finished up sooner than I thought, so I got groceries."

   He snakes an arm around your waist, rolls his eyes knowingly. "Let me guess: you went to get groceries, but got distracted and walked away with a new collection of trinkets."

   A wry smile. You reach into the closest bag. A red, green, and white monstrosity spotted in flat black deer outlines. "Christmas mugs don't count as trinkets. Obviously."

   He hums mocking agreeance. "Right. Of course not, dearest." He glances over his shoulder for emphasis, "I assume those are also definitely not trinkets?"

   You smile brightly. "Nope. They're Christmas decorations. Definitely essential."

DECEMBER 11TH

   He tries so hard not to wake you. You'd been busy all day, then gone to bed late because you wanted to see him off for his nightly patrol. You idiot.

   It's not like he doesn't appreciate it. His night always starts off on the wrong foot when he doesn't get a kiss from you beforehand. (It's just bad luck, at this point.) Even so, it's not a good enough reason for you to stay up.

   He won't argue about it again. He won the argument about you waiting up for him to get back; he doesn't like his odds for getting you to bed at a decent time.

   He sneaks around the house carefully, guided only by the light of the Christmas tree and the night lights always glowing in the hallways. He pins his arm to his chest and swerves through the living room, the kitchen. If not getting blood on your carpet was a sport, he'd win the Olympics. Between you and Alfred, he's pretty sure he could get stabbed and leave no evidence in an entirely white room.

   Luckily, it's only a few minor cuts that are dribbling crimson through his suit. All he needs is a few butterfly stitches and some bandage for the worse graze on his forearm.

   Unluckily, he realizes a little too late that the First-Aid kit in the kitchen has not yet been restocked. Which means the only fully stocked kit is the big one…in the master bathroom. The one on the other side of his bed. Your bed. Where you're sleeping. Damn it.

   He's a professionally trained assassin. He's a goddamn ninja, literally. He can sneak up on any person, into any building. You have no formal training. He once witnessed you sleep through an actual earthquake. Somehow, he always wakes you up.

   Not this time. This time, he will not wake you up.

   The Christmas lights wound around your potted plants light his way. He picks across the bedroom, around a pile of the day's clothes, across the rug. He steps over a stray Amazon box. Reminds himself to pick it up later. He's four feet from the door. Victory is close at hand.

   "Damian?"

   You're joking. When he turns, you're propping yourself up in bed, scrubbing sleep out of your eye. How! He didn't make a single sound!

   "You gonna take that off before bed, or..?"

   He sighs, tiredly. "I'm not going to bed yet. Go back to sleep, I won't be long." He whispers, still steps lightly, even if there's no point. He steps close, rests the rough palm of his glove on your cheek, and presses his lips against your temple. "I promise. Go to sleep."

   You hum, still half asleep. "What're you doin'?" You reach up absently, always wanting touch, always seeking him out. Your fingers brush up his arm, and then, wide awake– "You're bleeding. Why are you bleeding?"

   He shakes his head, smoothing a thumb along your cheekbone. "It's only a cut. Nothing to worry about."

Of course, you won't accept this as an answer. He can't convince you to get back into bed once you clamber out from under the blankets, so he follows you into the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bathtub.

You only use the light over sink, leaving the room just light enough to see. The dim lighting echoes the early hours somehow. Neither of you say much, directions aside. It'stoo early for much conversation. You smooth white straps over the minor cuts, a patch on a scrape up his cheek, carefully wind the gause around his arm.

When he's no longer dripping blood on the tile, you go and get a clean set of pajamas while he peels off the uniform and dumps it into the tub. Then, you both shuffle back to the warmth of the bed like moths to flame.

Despite the bandage, his arm is still a comfort when wrapped around you.

DECEMBER 14TH

   "What are you…doing?"

   He looks up from his hands, eyes wide, confused. "I'm– I'm wrapping gifts?"

   You cock your head to one side. You squint. "Oh. That's a box?"

   He blinks once. Twice. "Of course it's a box. What are you talking about?"

   Your face twists like you're not sure if you should laugh or not. "Baby. Look at it."

   He looks back down at the bundle of scotch tape and green wrapping paper. Sure, it doesn't follow every crisp line, and some of those straps of tape are way too long, and when did that corner get torn off? Oh, it's stuck to that piece of tape. Or is that a different corner?

   "Have you ever wrapped a gift before?" You ask slowly, tentatively. You only now realize that maybe you really shouldn't be laughing, if he's never wrapped a present before. He'll take it mockingly, answer defensively, close himself off to save himself the embarrassment.

   His nostrils flare as he stares down at it. "No," he says pointedly. "I don't usually have the time. Pennyworth wrapped them. If I did have time, I used a gift bag."

   You nod, sly little smile working its way across your face. "Makes sense. Is that why everything you give me is small?"

   He blows out a surprised noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He finally looks up at you again. "You've never complained before. We both know I'm awfully skilled with all sorts of things; the size never matters."

   You roll your eyes. "Oh, sure. Do you want me to show you how to wrap it or not?"

   He chuckles, steps aside, gestures that he's made room for you.

   You step in beside him, in front of the dining room table. In typical Damian Wayne fashion, the workspace is perfectly organized; scissors and tape set neatly on your right, a roll of shiny green wrapping paper on your left, the lumpy mystery package in the middle.

   He lays one hand on the table beside the scissors, leans on it, and props his other hand on his hip. "Please, show me the magical ways of gift wrapping."

   So, you do. You carefully salvage what you can, flatten it, trim it, tape it down. You smooth the edges crisp around the Amazon box. You explain it as you go, even though you know he could watch you do it once and copy it step for step.

   He watches you closely. First, your hands. He really did want you to teach him how you get the gifts under the tree to look so nice. But, he's a weak man at heart when anything concerns you. You always get this look on your face when you're working with your hands. It appears when you fold laundry and wash dishes, too. He catches himself looking at you instead of your instructions.

DECEMBER 20TH

   "That is definitely my sweater."

   "No, it isn't." You have a really bad poker face. Your eyes sparkle too much.

   He crosses his arms, mindful of the cut, still tender on the outside of his arm. "I bought that last year. At your suggestion, if memory serves."

   "I don't know what you're talking about." You upend the hot paper bag in your hand, spilling popcorn into a festive plastic bowl. "This was in my closet."

   "We share a closet."

   You wave your hand dismissively. "Potato, pa-tot-oh." You sprinkle on some salt and hold the bowl out for him.

   He takes it in one hand and waits for the next item. "I don't mind. You know I don't. I do wish you would admit that it's mine."

   You scoff, dumping a box of holiday chocolates into a matching bowl. "Why on earth would I do that?"

   He doesn't answer right away, waits until you glance over at him. "Because I like it when you wear my clothes."

   Your facade washes away under the tides of a grin you can't contain. You turn away instead, pretending to put all your focus on the candy bowl.

   He and his stupid sweet face. He shouldn't be allowed to wear sweaters or smile like that. He smiles at you all the time, much to your joy, but every once in a great while, when the mood catches him right, he gives you this world-healing, puppy-yipping, kitten-soft smile that makes you feel like you're floating. It should be illegal. He should at least give you a warning.

   You decide the fluttering in your chest is a little too much for two o'clock in the afternoon, snowstorm or not, so you change the subject. "What movie should we start with?"

   He takes the cue, he lets you do it; but he keeps staring at you like you like you're the only thing in the house worth looking at. "You decide. You're the better judge."

DECEMBER 25th

   It's been twenty-two minutes since you woke up. You've been killing time, between your phone and the morning newscast on the television across from the bed, but now you're getting suspicious.

   He'd been far too excited for any man who wakes up before sunrise. Christmas Day could be an exception, you suppose—fathers and guardians springing out of bed to watch their children rip open gifts. But Damian? You've never seen him so lit up before lunch.

   Stay in bed, he'd said, the moment you rolled over for a kiss. You did get one, but he leapt out of bed so soon after that you wondered if you should be offended. You should probably explain that be right back usually doesn't mean a half-hour.

   At minute thirty, you debating going and checking on him. You can hear noise, if you strain your hearing over the news anchor. Sizzling? Clanking, definitely. Clinking.

   Footsteps in the hallway. The door knob rattles. Alfred the Cat perks up by your feet. Muffled swearing. Not in English, but you know the tone.

   "Do you���want help?"

   "No," he replies quickly. "Stay in bed."

   You prop yourself up against the pillows and cross your arms. "Don't have to tell me twice."

   There's a long pause behind the bedroom door, before the knob turns and the door swings open. You're pretty sure you see a socked foot reel back out of sight.

   And then, he appears. Despite the brightly colored fleece pajama pants that match the shirt you slept in, he's still all poise and grace with a tray in his hands. He looks awfully proud of himself, like a cat prancing around with a fat mouse in its mouth, green eyes glittering.

   You laugh incredulously. "What is that?"

   He practically struts around to your side of the bed, sets the tray across your lap. "Breakfast, my darling."

   Sure enough, there's enough food to feed you, he, the cat, and the news anchor. Two mugs of coffee, a stack of Christmas tree shaped pancakes, a platter of scrambled eggs, and a bowl of fruit-chunk-filled yogurt.

   He takes your stunned silence as an opportunity to crawl over your legs and settle back down on his side of the bed.

   "What– Why?" You're still laughing, grinning ear to ear. "I mean, this looks delicious, but why?"

   He's smiling, too. "Well," he sighs, "I knew you were excited about Christmas, especially for dinner." Dinner, which was supposed to be held at Wayne Manor tonight, but had to be canceled to accommodate the weather, which decided to cover every side-street in two feet of snow and every major road in ice. "So I decided to…make up for it, I suppose."

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 9

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: dividers by @cafekitsune

series masterlist

chapter 9: baseline

Sol’s apartment was too big. In recent years, he had repeatedly tried for something approaching minimalism. Every time the empty beige walls would echo harshly at any disruption in the silence, his sentimentality would creep back in. Like kudzu, functionality and aesthetic would become choked by nostalgia. News clippings, photographs, pressed flowers, and sometimes even torn pages from books.

Sol’s house was also too quiet. All that space made the silence seem like another being was in the room, unspeaking but observing. It unnerved Osha at first. After the accident, she wasn’t released from the hospital for a week. Mae had already been living with Sol, and by the time Osha got there, it felt like there had been no room left for her to exist.

Just Sol, Mae, and the silence.

It was the opposite of her stranger’s apartment.

Right now, she wished she was there and not here.

A dark raincloud hung over the dinner table. It was full of everything that had happened over the last week: the issues with her job, her access to gym classes, not to mention the entirely new person in her life. The drama with the junior trainer job seemed like a goddamn lifetime ago. It made the buildup of this family dinner feel fraught with tension: any topic could be on the table, and with how long it had been, Osha wasn’t confident which secrets were off the table or not. 

She was thinking about her first training session with the stranger that evening—good motivation to survive the meal. She had been looking forward to it all day, resting just like he’d told her to. She even admitted she felt relaxed for the first time, and then—

“Are we not going to talk about it?”

Osha stabbed her food a bit violently in response to Sol’s question.

Mae said nothing.

“Why aren’t we talking about it?” he tried again.

“Because we don’t want to talk about it,” Osha said with forced lightness.

“Oshie, come on…”

“Whaaat?” Osha groaned. “I’m fucking over it. Take the job, I don’t care anymore.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Sol said. He set down his utensils, abandoning any pretense that this was to be their usual scripted dinner conversation. 

She sighed and did the same. “If you want to do an intervention, you’re a few days late. I’ve already gone cold turkey from the gym.”

“So you did quit?” Mae said softly.

“It was more that I was quit on. For fucking boxing classes.”

“Vernestra’s request wasn’t unreasonable, Osha,” Sol sighed. 

Very well. They were talking about it.

“Vernestra didn’t request shit from me. Is that what she told you? She restricted my membership to the fuckin Groupon level for no reason! No upper-level classes, no more than twice a week? Those classes literally happen during my shifts. I’d have to come in on my three remaining days off to take any classes. Why, what did she fuckin’ tell you, Sol? What did the fuckin’ group chats tell you, Mae?”

“Language, please,” he said in a pained voice, rubbing at his eyes. “You were obviously upset in my class the last time I saw you. Is training at the Temple really somewhere you want to be four days a week if you are so upset?”

“Have you asked yourself why I was upset yesterday? I was upset when I walked in. Ask Mae about it.”

Osha got up from the table despite protests from her sister and her dad. She ignored them and went to the bathroom in the hall, frustrated to all hell. Her phone was back in her bag, so she couldn’t just waste time until she could leave. Still, she managed to fuck around doing nothing for all of ten minutes before Mae came knocking.

“I have to talk to you.”

“Mae, just go away—”

“It’s about—well. You know who.”

Osha opened the door and came out quietly. “Where’s Sol?” she murmured, crossing her arms and leaning on the doorframe.

“He said he had to get something in his car. I think he needs a second to himself.”

“You mean he’s avoiding an uncomfortable situation.”

I didn’t hear from Vernestra or any of the other trainers at the Temple once.

Part of Osha wanted to feel bad for snapping at her dad like that, but the louder part said that she was hurt more. She spoke the truth to her stranger yesterday; she was tired of this shit. Besides, it wasn’t her job to suppress her emotions just for a grown man to feel better about himself.

“What do you want, Mae?”

“I need to ask you if all this, all the lashing out, was done on purpose because you wanted to train with Qimir.”

Huh. What?

“…who the fuck is Qimir?”

Mae looked like Osha had grown another head. “The guy I trained with for two years?” she said slowly.

Qimir.

When Mae said the name, dripping with disdain, it didn’t suit him. Osha’s mind completely rejected it. If it truly was his name, it only suited part of him—a mistranslation of who he actually was. The new information slid off Osha’s impression of the stranger like water on glass.

No, that suited him better—the stranger.

“What about him?” Osha asked, trying to control the shake in her voice.

Mae crossed her arms, matching Osha and leaning on the wall opposite her. Osha didn’t meet her eyes; instead, she looked at the frames behind her shoulder and above her head. Mae’s frustration mounted, and after Osha’s deliberate obtuseness, she huffed, “Did you quit the Temple to train with him?”

Osha’s eye twitched. What right did Mae have to her personal life when she’d been so prohibitive about her own? She matched her sister’s pose but still refused to look at her. “Weren’t you listening? I didn’t quit, I was quit on.”

“You don’t think Vernestra has a point?”

“No.”

Mae stuttered a bit, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question but getting an honest answer anyway. “I mean, you’re not—” Mae shifted from foot to foot. “It’s been a long time since you, uh.”

“You don’t think I can fight competitively either?” Osha said, finally meeting her eyes with a glare. “What did I do to you to make you lose your faith in me?”

Mae flinched a little, hurt but unable to refute Osha’s claim. “Listen, that’s not what I’m talking about. So are you—”

“It’s what I’m talking about. I’m not telling you anything for a while, Mae. If I want to tell you something, I’ll tell you. And like I told you yesterday, when I ask you something, I want honesty. I don’t think you’ll give me that, so that’s why I haven’t asked you anything at all.”

“Well, if you are training with him—”

“I don’t want your advice about this, Mae. Can you just drop it? For, like, maybe an actual week? You had two years to tell me all about him. Give me a while to process it without being supervised.”

“You know what? Fine. Have it your way, Osha. I just wanted to remedy things and warn you about who you’re getting involved with.”

He hasn’t lied to me yet, she didn’t say. Mae walked away, and Osha watched her for a few seconds before rubbing at her chest and pacing the hallway.

She approached the room they used to share. Sol had converted it into a guest room after they’d moved to their new apartment downstairs, but he never had overnight guests. His social circle was the same as the ‘old guard’ trainers: they kept things within the Temple and didn’t make friends from other gyms on principle.

Still, the baseless hope of having someone stay remained.

Osha sat on the end of the bed, with pretty memories of the past warring against the fucked-up present. The light purple walls of childhood, adorned with ribbons and proud accomplishments, had been replaced by model-home greige and even more photographs. Two beds, now one. Pictures of strangers where there used to be pictures of friends.

It hurt to hold onto the nostalgia for too long. Osha abandoned the bed and looked at the pictures hanging on what was once her side of the room.

Sol had no rhyme or reason for the wall decor in his guest room. His more impressive memories and keepsakes were in the living room—the things here were most likely moments that didn’t fit in, but he couldn’t throw them away for whatever reason. Photos of a younger Sol on his college boxing team sat above another photo of Osha at high school graduation, and next to that one was—

There were many children she didn’t recognize in that photograph. As if in a trance, she approached the small frame. She recognized the Temple, of course, but the marked youth of each person she recognized told her it was from a long time ago. Sol was in the back, beside Vernestra, Kelnacca, Indara, and Torbin—who hadn’t yet lost his eye. The five children standing before the coaches smiled with varying enthusiasm, but her eyes remained focused on the grinning little boy in glasses standing before Vernestra.

He looked older than the other children but seemed the most excited of them all. His eyes almost disappeared under the force of his goofy grin, toothy and familiar—he’d grown up since then. This little boy suited the name Mae had told her. Qimir.

Like the frame at the Temple, she popped open the back. She moved carefully as she removed the newspaper clipping from behind the glass, and held it gently as she unfolded the rest of the article.

TEMPLE GYM OUTREACH PROGRAM SETS CHARITABLE STANDARD

Vernestra Rwoh, 36, has owned and managed Temple Gym for ten years. She has started the Padawan Training Program in collaboration with the Federal District Orphanage to provide community support to the underprivileged. “For most children, their first mentors are their parents. For children without parents, finding that kind of personal guidance to navigate the world is much harder,” Rwoh said in an interview. “Though the initial scope of our program is quite small, the biggest changes start with the smallest of actions. We hope to expand to provide more opportunities to underprivileged children in the city.”

The rest of the article felt sterile and self-congratulatory, providing little information about the program.  Osha gathered that it was an outreach program training orphaned children to box. She looked back at the photograph. Beneath it, she found his name listed after Torbin’s in the smallest font.

Qimir Loharne (13)

When I was thirteen, the rods were removed, and the doctors at the spine clinic said I should join this… outreach program that was starting at the Temple.

He was thirteen. Imagining the abuse he went through over the next four years made her stomach turn. Osha refolded the news clipping and carefully tucked it under her shirt, against her skin. Her hands shook with barely repressed anger.

Hastily, she covered up where the article had been with a framed photo of herself winning third at the science fair. Looking around the rest of the room, she wondered if he was hiding—being hidden—in any other frames, but she couldn’t find anything.

She didn’t know why she was disappointed.

He was waiting for her when she came down from her apartment a few hours later. Night had fallen in the city, but city nights were never as dark as she wanted. The crescent moon that had walked her and the stranger home the night before had grown into almost a waxing quarter moon—she’d started keeping track of the moon phases as a brand-new member of Unknown Planet.

His car idled as he leaned on the passenger-side door casually. He looked like a cool, dangerous love interest in a romance movie: dressed all in black, with his hair somewhat falling into his eyes above his glasses, arms crossed, one leg bent slightly in front of the other. Osha couldn’t look that cool if she tried. All that remained of the small cut on his face was a small red line on his cheekbone. His attention was on a little device in his hands she couldn’t see, so engrossed in it that he didn’t look up when she stopped at the sidewalk. 

“Hello,” she greeted him. 

He looked up, watching her approach. “Hello.”

Osha felt rooted in place under his gaze, the weight of his name sitting heavily on her mind. “Hi,” she said, cringing inwardly. Would she ever interact with him where she didn’t act like a fool within the first ten minutes?

“Hi…” His head tilted to the side, his eyes flitting over her frozen state. He pocketed the device and approached. “Are you alright?”

The incident at Sol’s had thoroughly fucked up whatever measure of calm she’d gained from the day’s rest and recovery. Her mind was all over the place, unable to focus on one thing for long. The folded-up newspaper weighed heavily against her heart from inside her jacket. She nodded tightly in response to his question.

His smile faded a little. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No! No.” Osha sighed and pressed her cold hands to her face. “I’m so scatterbrained today; it’s not you.” Some of it’s you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice dropping into that soothing tone he used when she was in pain the other day.

“Maybe,” she said. “Can we get out of the cold first?”

“Of course.”

Before she could protest, he’d taken her gym bag off her shoulder and walked back to his car to open the door for her. She followed him like he had her on a damn leash. Wait, did she like that? She really was a goddamn mess tonight.

Once he loaded her bag into the backseat, he paused before getting in. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the device he’d been playing with, only then getting inside.

“Is that an iPod mini?” Osha guffawed.

“If it ain’t broke…” he said with a grin. “I prefer more analog things, if you couldn’t tell.”

“You use a flip phone and drive a car that could survive a nuclear apocalypse. I don’t know why I’m surprised you have an actual iPod. You probably also have a pocket watch and a VHS collection.”

“I resent that,” he huffed. “I have two pocket watches.”

Their banter set her at ease for the rest of the drive to Unknown Planet. The music on his iPod wasn’t what she usually listened to, but she enjoyed it enough not to speak over it. They passed the bar’s street entrance, and he drove down a side street to a private parking lot. He parked but didn’t move to get out just yet.

It’s your call, the silence said. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

Osha got out of the car.

Her stranger held the door for her as she walked in and followed behind as she took the stairs. This was the path they’d taken after she watched him fight for the first time, the stairs leading up to the third-floor dressing rooms. He unlocked the black door and ushered her inside with a hand on her lower back.

As they removed their winter jackets and shoes, he told her the plan for the evening: “I need to establish a baseline. I told you I’ve seen you fight, but it was only recorded footage and obviously nothing from after your injury. Seeing you move in person will give me a better idea of where to focus first.”

“How much of tonight involves jumping or running?” she asked, eyeing the rolls of tape in her bag.

“None,” he said, digging through his backpack for a pair of shorts. He tossed his glasses on top of the bag before entering the bathroom to change. Osha scrambled to do the same while he’d given her some measure of privacy, peeling off her jeans and t-shirt.

“There are plenty of ways to do cardio without exacerbating injuries,” he continued. This felt a little like their second meeting: when she changed her shirt behind a wall, and he mopped up at the cafe. “Repetitive exercises like jump rope, running, and machine workouts risk worsening your condition the more you rely on them.”

That was promising.

“Then what are we doing for cardio?” she asked, shimmying into her tank top.

“For now, swimming. Eventually, sparring. Can you swim?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know there’s a pool here.”

“There isn’t. You don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow, but we’ll be using the one at home.”

His wording had her hands nearly slipping on her shorts as she pulled them up her thighs. She corrected the fumble, snapping the waistband around her hips and folding it like usual.

“Swimming is easier on injuries,” he continued. “It uses every muscle group, and adding resistance to workouts is much safer.” He emerged from the bathroom without a shirt, going through his bag while he spoke—as if she wasn’t poleaxed seeing him like this from such a short distance. He had nothing on but low-slung basketball shorts and his socks.

“Cool,” Osha said, mind a million miles away. “Cool.”

He pulled a shirt on, followed by his glasses and a black baseball cap that kept his hair out of his eyes. “Let’s get you ready for me, hm?” He gestured to the chair when she didn’t move in response to him.

“Cool!” She wanted to slap herself. She needed to get it the fuck together. “I’ve got tape in my bag—”

“Have you used KT tape before?” He opened a drawer at the small desk beside her, revealing several thick rolls in various colors.

“Kinesiotherapy tape?”

“What’s with the face?”

Osha tried to quit scowling, but she’d already been called out for it. “Well, isn’t it… not as good as athletic tape?”

He placed several rolls beside him in a neat line, along with scissors. “Each has their benefit,” he said. “Neither is wholly better than the other. I’m guessing you haven’t used it before, then?”

“No.”

“Tell me how you wrap your ankle.”

As she explained her usual methods, she couldn’t help peeking at the colorful tapes he had brought out. Some even had little designs on them—shooting stars, rainbow stripes, and the feral river otter mascot of the college he worked at.

It was definitely much cuter than the standard white athletic tape and flesh tone pre-wrap.

He nodded. “Would you mind trying something new? Just to see if you like it.”

Osha was growing familiar with the urge to perform well for him, and it didn’t irritate her as much as it probably should have. She nodded, and he gave her a brilliant smile. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird taking flight.

He talked her through what he was doing, first measuring out pieces of tape, then cutting them up and applying them to her foot, ankle, knee, and thigh in bands of red and black. Aside from the aesthetic advantage, she appreciated that she didn’t have to loosen up her sneakers the way she did after layers of pre-wrap and athletic tape.

She also appreciated how his hands felt on her bare skin.

“There. Walk around a bit. If you want it off, the adhesive won’t fully set for another fifteen minutes or so.”

The method she’d been taught to use before had been good for reducing swelling and preventing sprains and strains, but sometimes, it felt like her ankle was just being squished, not supported. The KT tape felt like how she wanted her ankle to feel. With so much more freedom of movement, she almost felt like a newborn deer, amazed she could stand and walk like this. Holy fuck.

“That good?”

Shit, she’d said that out loud. He was still on the floor, putting away the rest of the tape and tugging on his shoes.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “This is crazy.” She bounced on her feet a little. She must have looked silly as hell doing lunges around the dressing room, but he only regarded her with a look of fond amusement she was growing accustomed to. He asked for a hand up.

When he got to his feet, they ended up inches apart, their height difference made glaringly obvious. Osha was surprised to find she liked it. His height, his arms, his broad fucking shoulders—they didn’t intimidate her like they probably had done for Mae. She took a breath, settling into a comfortable, calm mindset.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, touching her waist and spinning her toward the door.

The gym above Unknown Planet looked completely different from the last time she saw it. The cage had been dismantled and replaced by a large sparring mat, where pairs of people faced off—wearing anything from singlets to gis to clothes similar to what Osha was wearing. While a few individuals were locked in at the punching bags or machines, many were clustered in small groups, working together or encouraging one another. They were laughing and having fun.

Osha could count on one hand the number of times she heard laughter at the Temple. She’d need no hands to count the number of times she’d had fun in the last six years.

He led them to an empty area. Her nerves were going wild, and the prospect of disappointing him felt terrible and inevitable. But he trucked ahead. “For our warmups, we’re going to…” He showed her a series of stretches and light calisthenics to get her loose and warm. He never spoke down to her or overexplained his choices. When they were finished warming up, he checked in.

Honesty came easier with him.

“I feel like my ankle’s a little weaker. It’s not weak like failing, but not as strong as I thought. The tape helps a lot.”

He nodded, looking her over. “Can you go up on just your right foot? Flat.” He knelt before her to see better, then put her hand on his shoulder so she’d be balanced. “Up on your toes. Flat. Good. Again.”

Osha was going just a little fucking mad. Just a little, though. He seemed to like flustering her. He tended to get himself into situations where she was above him, and he was on her knees beneath her. She followed his instructions, doing a few calf raise holds on her good leg, then her injured one. Her body obeyed his instruction on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was honed in on two precise places: where his thumb rubbed back and forth against her ankle, and where her hand lay flat against the shifting muscles in his shoulder.

“I see what you mean,” he said, letting go. He adjusted his glasses and tugged down his sock. “There are a few muscle groups attached to the Achilles tendon…”

He explained exactly what she was feeling, even having her put her hand on the back of his calf while he repeated the same moves she had just done. For once, the uncontrollably horny part of her brain remained silent, instead fascinated by his intelligent explanations. It was a mystery how he could even pretend to be a bumbling idiot.

She asked him so many questions, and he patiently answered each one to her satisfaction. Osha had never felt so respected and cared for in a training setting and wondered when that would change.

The rest of their session passed just like that. They hadn’t done much training overall, but by the end of things, she knew more about her ankle and knee. The formless pain now had names, faces, and weaknesses that could be exploited for her benefit—maybe even defeated.

By the time he brought her back to his dressing room, midnight had already passed. She was more worn out than she expected after so uneventful a training session.

“On the mat, Osha.”

Oh, there was her horny brain—back with a vengeance.

She tried her best to look graceful and attractive as she lowered herself to the mat, but her ankle had finally had enough of her, and it ended up being more like a slow-motion ragdoll collapse. She supposed that was what she deserved, trying to be cool in front of him. Shit, she was more tired than she thought.

But still, the yoga mat felt nice. Being flat felt nice. Her body, for once, felt nice. She groaned happily. “Yeah, mat. Great idea.”

He laughed softly and knelt beside her. His hand went to the back of her right calf, pressing his thumbs into her muscles with light pressure at first, then deeper when she didn’t flinch away in pain.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head.

“You might be two and a half years out of practice, but most call this a massage.”

She kicked blindly at him with her other foot. His hand caught her quickly, avoiding any of her injured areas. She calmed down, and he continued his massage.

“Unlike athletic tapes, the KT tape can be worn for up to five days. It’s waterproof, too, so when we go to the pool tomorrow, you’ll still have the same support correcting your ankle and knee to the right tension. You can take it off at any time with a bit of oil, and if you need me, I’m never too busy to help you.”

It was harder to pay attention to him when he had his hands on her, and between the relief he gave her and the soothing tones of his voice saying such lovely things, she almost fell asleep right there. When he finally finished, she felt like her bones had gone al dente. He gave her time to change in the bathroom, and she was surprised to see the silly smile adorning her face.

You are sooo fucked, she mouthed at her reflection.

She only smiled back.

It was a little after one in the morning when they returned to the apartment complex. He parked in front of her building, idling in one of the covered spots he didn’t own. Neither of them spoke, and she didn’t move to get out. Something in the air felt taut with tension, obvious but unacknowledged. He inhaled like he would break the silence, but her anxious mouth got there first.

“I found another picture of you.” She unzipped her jacket to the inside breast pocket, where she’d carefully tucked the news clipping from Sol’s place. She gave it to him, and his jaw flexed as he looked it over.

She expected all manner of responses from him—So now you know my name. Do you believe my story now? What a long time ago—but instead, he asked her, “Why do you give me these?”

She’d been asking herself that same question. Looking at the little boy in the picture, she said, “You told me, before you took me to the bar the first time, that there was a time that you had no evidence you existed besides your pain. You shouldn’t have been—it’s just—” She exhaled harshly, staring out the windshield and fidgeting with her hands. “You do exist beyond what happened to you. And you deserve to have proof of that.”

After her halting explanation, her mind felt clearer. The nervous buzzing of her thoughts had ceased—at least temporarily. When he—when Qimir—no—when her stranger didn’t say anything for a while, she turned to look at him and was immediately caught in the snare of his gaze.

He’d leaned in toward her, lips slightly parted and eyes a little unfocused as they flitted about—eye to eye, then down to her mouth. Osha couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She could only endure the wildfire he ignited in her body, heat licking through every inch of her. His teeth slowly sunk into his lower lip, and he moved forward another inch—

“Osha,” he whispered, soft as a prayer and most likely unintentional. The sound of her name on his tongue made her shudder, and her eyes fell shut. He inhaled quickly, reality and reason coming back to him all at once.

She opened her eyes when she felt him sit back in his seat and found him straight-backed and controlled. “Thank you,” he managed to say after some silent seconds. His voice sounded rougher, full of an emotion she couldn’t place. She hoped it was desire and not regret.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “I can, um. I can stop pushing them on you if it makes you—”

“No.”

She blinked. “No?”

“I appreciate you bringing them to me. They… you’re right. They’re signs of a life I had taken from me. It’s more than I had of myself yesterday.”

Osha smiled helplessly, leaning back against the headrest to look at him. For the first time in a long while, she felt proud of herself.

CHAPTER TEN

[mothgodofchaos]

Decorate

I was reminded of how my favorite depiction of Anti is a guard dog who is used to being scary but is learning not to be anymore, so enjoy that version of him.

Antisepticeye x GN!Reader, TW: knife, attempted stabbing Words: 710

You set out the frosting, sprinkles, and cooled cupcakes on the table, making sure there’s nothing that can be accidentally torn by his claws. With a smile to yourself, you move your hair out of your face and peek out into the living room.

“Spark, I got a surprise for you in the kitchen.”

“Oooh!!”

Anti bounces up from his game onto his feet, running past you into the dining room. He’s glitching all around the table, investigating all the things you’ve set out. When he pokes one of the frosting bags, his pupils go wide with intense interest.

“What’s t’is all for?”

“Decorating cupcakes! It’s like… 3D painting that you can eat. But not yet, we gotta decorate them first.”

You hold his wrist, squeezing some frosting out onto one of his fingers, with a little on your own for yourself. He mimics you, sticking out his long tongue to lick the frosting off from a distance. His nose twitches as the sugar hits his tongue, before he sticks his whole finger in his mouth, removing it when clean.

“I like t’at, I’m gonna eat it.”

“You can eat more after you wash your hands and decorate your own cupcakes. But, you get free reign over how you decorate yours. I won’t touch them.”

“Okie!”

He glitches over to the sink, quickly washing his hands before returning. You help him pin back his hair with a headband and it’s nice seeing his whole face when he’s excited like this. While you know he enjoys playing with his hair, you know he’ll fuss if he gets frosting in it. Anti floats in the air, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth with concentration as he frosts his cupcakes green. You haven’t told him they’re chocolate cupcakes yet, wanting it to be a surprise. After introducing him to chocolate and coffee, he’s gone a bit feral over both of them since. 

You focus on making your cupcakes, not really paying much mind to what Anti’s doing other than making sure he’s not just eating the frosting straight out of the bag. He hovers over your shoulder when he finishes up, watching you decorate.

“Yes, baby?”

“Just watchin’.”

He’s trying to be patient and wait for you, but when his hyperactive nature is to almost literally bounce off the walls, it’s definitely hard. He starts fiddling with your clothes, running his claws along the seams of your jacket.

“If you’re bored, you can go back to your game, sweet boy.”

“No, it’s okay. I can wait!”

Anti slowly moves to wrap himself around your torso, using his antigravity abilities to adjust himself in a way as to not obscure your ability to decorate. You pat his head as he gets settled in, fully hugging you with his whole body.

When you finish up your cupcakes, you go back over to wash your hands, before reaching up to give your clingy puppy of a demon more headpats. He purrs happily, ears wiggling as he leans into your hand. But when the doorbell rings, you’re given a second to react before Anti glitches away, going to attack whatever poor sap decided to alert you of their presence.

“Anti! No! No stabbing!”

You run to the front door in just enough time to pull Anti off the delivery man and not impale him on his favorite kitchen knife. The delivery man looks scared out of his wits, eyeing Anti who is growling over your shoulder. You sign for the package, closing the door behind you.

“Anti. We don’t just stab people because they ring the doorbell.”

He goes to snap back, but just looks tired. Anti glitches his knife from his hand, rubbing his arm.

“Sorry…”

You walk up to him, holding his face.

“You don’t have to be scary. It’s okay. Just, no stabbing people, okay? I don’t wanna get sued, or have the police show up. Although if the police show up, you have permission to scare them off.”

“...I can do t’at.”

“That’s my boy. Let’s get some cupcakes, yeah?”

In an instant his mood is reversed and he glitches away to get his cupcakes. You wonder if he was always this excitable, or if he’s only this way with you.

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

Fan ficcy fic time part two *victorious fanfare*

(A/N, orange text is thinking green text is emphasis)

Chapter two, good frickin luck!

He was right about that. He looked worse. In fact, when he walked through the door, Ricky, who had been strolling the halls, kinda…punched him in the face, “Sorry!” Ricky exclaimed, “you kinda look like a zombie.”

And he really did. He was pale, looked dead on his feet and had blood running down the entirety of his left side, his shoulder was slumping a bit down from where it would normally rest, “What happened?”

His legs chose that moment to give out, and Ricky was just like holding him up, “Uhh…Jimmy?!” he shouldered Eaglebones’ left arm. Eaglebones winced and that's when Ricky noticed the blood.

Everywhere.

He was only looking at Eaglebones’ face before, but now the blood was on him. On his rash guard. His only shirt until they got their laundry back the next day.

Ricky let out a tiny whimpering noise, “Jimmmmyyy!” He elongated the word, hoping Jimmy would hear. He decided, oh carrots, we gotta find Jimmy now.

He looked down the hall before deciding Jimmy was probably in the lab. He shifted his lanky friend, who was now sort of dazed, to have a grip on his other shoulder and sorta half dragged him down the hall to Jimmy's lab.

XXXXXXXXXXXlinebreakXXXXXXXXXXX

“Commander, I already told you, I'm sorry.” Jimmy said, losing a bit of his calm collectedness. The commander was being childish, but he did have a point. It was Jimmy's turn to do the dishes, but he didn't, and the commander dropped a stack of plates off the counter while trying to reach the chips off the top shelf. It was both of their faults, but neither would admit it. “Sorry doesn't bring those plates back!”

“And arguing does?!”

“Yes!”

Their squabble continued until the sound of the door swishing open caught their attention.

They turned to see Ricky, awkward braces smile on his face, supporting a bloodied up half conscious Eaglebones, “Your fight can wait, Jimmy I've been calling you for like an hour.” Ricky said, his voice abnormally high pitched.

Jimmy grabbed Eaglebones’ other arm and they both arm carried him to the makeshift triage area in the lab.

It was really just the other lab table, “Alright, up.” Jimmy gestured to the table. After some struggling, Eaglebones has managed to get onto the table. The commander and Ricky left. Ricky had to change out of his bloodied clothes and use like six hundred wet wipes to clean the germs away and the commander, well, no one had cleaned up the plates so…. he just wanted to see if that's how eaglebones got bloodied up.

Jimmy started to ask a barrage of questions, “How did you hurt yourself?” He asked more to himself because he was quite sure Eaglebones wasn't aware enough to answer. He took off Eaglebones’ anti-negativity cap and was probing the back of his head, feeling for fractures.

There was none, lucky for that. Eaglebones was barely conscious at this point, “Hey, wake up.” Jimmy said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. He opened his eyes and was clearly confused. Jimmy took no time in being an asshole and shining a light in his face. I know it was to test pupil dilation, but it really hurts when you're acutely sensitive to light.

Jimmy finished his examination and figured that Eaglebones had a mild concussion and pretty bad stab on both sides of his shoulder. Jimmy was too frazzled for this, “Why can't you be normal?”

Because he wasn't. That was the answer. And it wasn't like he accidentally hurt himself, he was literally attacked.

(A/N, this is filler because I have writers block and am just trying to get through a scene)

Jimmy patched him up and told him to go to bed. They didn't know that this was going to be the start of a few complications.

[malleux]

freedom. | surviving fimbulwinter [I]

[main page] | [t.o.c] | [spellbook] | [ << | >> ]

young adult!atreus x reader

-> synopsis: The only times you had ever experienced adventure was through your books. It was hard to live an exciting life while trapped in Alfheim.

You know you're meant for something greater than wasting away underground.

[loosely based on the events of Gow: Ragnarok]

-> chapter warnings: all chapters may contain spoilers, violence, sparring, cursing

You sat on the couch, pouting and pressing a chunk of ice against the side of your thigh. One of the dwarves— Sindri, you learned— paced back and forth in front of you.

"You better hope that doesn't get infected! None of us have any knowledge of healing, though we could make you a prosthetic should your leg rot off—" Sindri rambled.

"Ew, can we not?" You cringed at the thought, "It's already bad enough I literally got stabbed, I don't want to imagine any worse right now."

"Well, you shouldn't be sneakin' up on people!" The blue dwarf— Brok— huffed from his workbench.

"I said I was sorry! I forgot I was invisible."

"A likely excuse."

You threw a glare towards Brok, who definitely was choosing to clean off his knife in front of you on purpose. Sindri, on the other hand, had chosen to make his way back to the large cauldron beside the fireplace. He grabbed the ladle and stirred before stoking the fire.

"In any case, Kratos and Atreus should be back soon. They went out to collect supplies before they leave tomorrow, so once they're back we can all have a nice talk."

"Yeah, about how the Hel you appeared out of nowhere, and how you think it's acceptable to scare the Tatzelwurms out of us."

A few hours had passed, and you were still icing your leg. You'd just started a new book, Rare Fighting Spells, when the front door seemed to throw itself open. You jumped, watching as an incredibly muscular man walk through the door. Behind him was a boy, possibly close to your age. This must be the two Sindri was talking about.

They both eyed you, taking their things to Brok to mess with.

Sindri clapped his hands together, "Wonderful, everyone's here! It's time for dinner!"

———

To say dinner was awkward would be the understatement of the year.

You all ate silently— everyone sneaking glances at you while you tried to think of how to introduce yourself. Eventually, you coughed and sat up straight, putting down your spoon. Everyone else followed.

"I suppose I need to speak."

Brok huffed out a “You think?”, earning a side-eye and a kick under the table.

"My name is Y/N, and I just escaped from Alfheim. I don't know how I successfully got here, but Brok and Sindri found me. And then stabbed me—"

"You scared me!"

"—I did. But thank you guys for saving me." You tried to smile at them, but it was more of a grimace. "Any questions?"

"Lass, why were you in Alfheim in the first place? Don't you know there's a war going on?" The decapitated head asked with an accent way stronger than what you were expecting.

"I- uh, lived there?" You felt weird talking to it, "My father is a Dark Elf. My mother is mortal, but she died when I was born. Before the war, my father hid me underground, away from the other Elves. They hated me because I didn't look like them. Eventually, when the Elves began using the Light of Alfheim and all of the Dark Elves went underground, I was trapped even further and locked in my room.” You sighed, folding your hands on the table and gathering the courage to continue.

“Today, I decided I wanted to get out, so I learned a spell to make myself invisible and escaped. The Mystic Gateway was broken, and I tried for a while to fix it, but it wasn't working. That's when it started to fix itself, and Brok and Sindri opened it up from the other side. I snuck inside, and went to talk to them, but I forgot I was invisible, and— yeah. You get the rest."

The head hummed. You were sure if he could nod, he would. "I see. I'd heard a rumor once from Alfheim about a mixed breed, but you know those Elves. Squashed the rumor quick. They don't like anyone getting involved in their business. I suppose the rumors are true, then.”

You agreed, taking a sip of water from your cup. "I'm sorry to intrude, I just saw an escape and went for it."

"What's your plan now?" Sindri asked.

"I wanted to explore the realms, but I guess with the Gateways being broken I'll have to wait. Maybe I'll find a way to Midgard and build a life there—"

"You could come with us!"

"Atreus."

The boy who offered, Atreus, slumped down for a moment, only to perk back up quickly. "Father, c'mon. Y/N wants to see the world, we could use another helping hand, why not?"

"We do not need another helping hand." His father seemed to mock, "We are fine the way we are. How do you know she could even help?"

"I could spar with her? And you watch?" Atreus offered, looking at you for approval. You, on the other hand, were just confused.

People just fought for fun? You were always told it was solely for your survival. That's why your father never trained you as much as you asked. If you were to spar against this boy, you'd for sure lose. You secretly hoped his father would say no, but he huffed and stood from the table.

"Meet me outside."

You watched him leave the house with wide eyes, and once the door closed you turned back to Atreus. "Dude, what? Why would you do that?"

"Uh, because it would be cool if you came with us?" He quirked an eyebrow, seeing nothing wrong.

"I haven't fought in Hel knows how long. I'm going to embarrass myself—"

"Kratos doesn't expect perfection." Sindri tried to reassure you, "But if you show promise and try your hardest, I bet he'll be a lot more lenient than you think. Especially if Atreus is nagging him."

"I don't nag him!" Atreus argued, standing from the table. You followed.

"What do you call it? Wearing him down?" Brok cackled as Atreus led you outside where Kratos was waiting.

———

"Ready, go!"

Atreus ran at you first, swinging at you with the wooden part of his bow. You stepped back a few times before rolling to his side and landing your foot into his ribs. He stumbled and coughed for a second, but recovered quickly as he notched an arrow.

In return, you grabbed your spear that all Dark Elves use for combat and aimed it towards him. As Atreus shot his arrow, you retaliated by shooting a small energy beam out of the spear, burning his arrow in its path.

You hadn't used the spear in ages— since your father quit teaching you— so you felt a bit rusty. Nevertheless, you couldn't let that trip you up.

You didn't want to hurt him, so you charged at Atreus with the non-sharp side of the spear. Atreus used his bow to block, and you were left pushing against the wood in a battle of strength.

Atreus was stronger, eventually shoving against you and forcing you back. He notched three arrows at once, unleashing them as you sidestepped two of them. The third grazed your bicep, but you couldn't even feel it with the adrenaline in your veins.

Being part Dark Elf gave you a lot of agility, and even without wings it felt like you were flying at times. You hated to admit that you were enjoying fighting— it gave you a feeling of freedom you'd never had before.

You jumped back, away from your opponent, and cast your spear out in front of you. Red spots began to appear on the ground around Atreus, and one by one they began to detonate. Bright light surrounded the outside, blinding those who looked too hard. While Atreus was weak, you took the advantage.

Quickly, you charged again, sticking your spear between the wood and string of Atreus's bow and throwing them both to the side. Atreus barely recovered enough to block your fist, his forearm pushing it down before trying to retaliate with a hit of his own.

He landed the hit on your jaw, but you couldn't flinch. Not in the middle of a fight. You jumped back again, waiting for him to charge. He did, and you were able to initiate your plan.

You swept your leg out, taking his own out from under him. Atreus gasped and fell forward, knocking you down in the process. You yelped, the weight of the boy on your stab wound becoming incredibly painful.

"Alright, truce! Ouch—" You rubbed your leg as Atreus got up, holding his hand out for you. You took it and he helped you stand.

"Y/N," Atreus began, "That was so cool! Your powers are just like a Dark Elf's, you even have the spear—"

"Enough." Kratos silenced him, walking up to you and sizing you up. He towered over you and quite frankly, it was very intimidating. You were already shorter than Atreus, you didn't need to feel any smaller.

Kratos stayed quiet for a while, seemingly weighing his options and looking back and forth between you and his son. "We leave tomorrow morning. Decide whether you are coming or not." 

You and Atreus watched as he disappeared back into the house, before looking back at each other.

"Did you hear that? You can come!" Atreus grinned at you, "We'll have to pack you some supplies, and get a bed for you here— there aren't any extra rooms, but my bed is small so we could put another one in my room! That is— if you're okay with that, of course. Nords, this is great."

You couldn't help but smile at Atreus's enthusiasm. It had been a very long time since you'd been around someone so positive— since you and Fritjof were young.

The thought of Fritjof make your heart feel heavy, but you brushed it off and paid attention to Atreus. Because of him, you'd finally get to experience the Nine Realms. "I can't wait.”

By the time you and Atreus made it back inside, the dinner table was already cleaned and Sindri was walking by with a blanket in his arms.

"Ah, there you are." He approached you and held out the blanket for you to take. "We made you a bed, but you don't have your own room. Not yet anyways, but if you wanted one I'm sure we could do it. Anyways, you'll be staying with Atreus, and we'll pack you a bag for tomorrow with all your stuff and more. If there's anything else you need, give us a call."

You were stunned. Never before had some random strangers shown you so much kindness. It was enough to make your eyes water a bit. "Sindri, thank you." You held the blanket to your chest. "Honestly. That all means a lot. I should be alright, thanks to you all."

Sindri's eyes softened at you, "Of course."

You turned to Atreus, following his lead as he heads to his room. It's small, but enough to fit two one-person beds on opposite sides of the walls.

You sat on one of the beds, slightly bouncing on it to test its comfort. Acceptable.

Atreus, taking the other bed, set his weapon down beside it before laying down and staring up at the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment, and you began taking your shoes off to lay in the bed.

"Was it hard?"

You paused. "Was what hard?"

"Leaving." Atreus turned to his side, facing you. "Leaving your father and everything you'd ever known."

"Well, all I'd ever known was the same four walls of my room." You laughed dryly. "I left my father and one friend, but my father didn't seem to care for me too much and my friend had just betrayed me when I left."

"They did?" Atreus propped his head up, more interested in the conversation.

"Uh, yeah." You shrugged, getting under your own blankets and facing him. "Didn't approve of me wanting to leave. They all thought me hiding away was for my own good, but I'd been trapped there for 19 years. My entire life. I couldn't stay forever."

"19 years." Atreus mumbled, then said louder, "I'm older than you."

You couldn't help the grin that came across your face, and you rolled your eyes. "What, by like a month?"

"Nope," He popped the 'p', "I'm 20. Though father sometimes thinks I'm still 12."

"Dads, huh?" You joked, "I think they just want to protect us from how harsh the world is. No matter how much we disagree."

"You have no idea." Atreus agreed, "I love him, I just wish he'd let me do more. At least now I don't have to hide too much from him, since I convinced him to let us search for Tyr tomorrow."

"Tyr?" Your eyebrows furrowed, "Tyr's dead. I read about his entire story not too long ago.”

"I don't think so! I saw it in a prophecy— Tyr is leading an army against the Aesir during Ragnarok. Since Fimbulwinter is happening, that means Ragnarok will soon. There's no way he's dead if he's leading an army in the future." Atreus explained, "That's why we're going to find him. We're heading to a city in Svartalfheim tomorrow to talk to someone Brok and Sindri recommended. They said he might know where Tyr is."

You shook your head. "Wow. That is... a lot." You yawned, trying to hide it. You were still interested in the conversation, but today's events were wore you down.

"Isn't it? I'm excited." Atreus yawned as well, "The only way it'll come quicker is if we're asleep when time passes. Let's go to bed."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Atreus."

"Goodnight, Y/N-" Atreus began, but you were already knocked out. He smiled slightly to himself, secretly glad to finally have a companion his age join the group. All of the adult nonsense got tiring.

Taking one last glance as you slept, Atreus turned around in his own bed and fell asleep.

[ >> ]

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

This is basically my perspective of how Gan & ELady match up against each other.

At the beginning of the story, in a one-on-one fight, Ganondorf absolutely wins. No question.

However, if Ganondorf were one of her targets, she'd likely have taken the fact that he was male into account, as well his height & weight class, & would instead have assassinated him rather than taking her chances in a one-on-one fight.

In such a situation, he'd be dead. Like, holy shit, he wouldn't stand a damn chance.

I mean, he might survive the first 2 attempts with steadily increasing paranoia, but the third would see him in a body bag.

Basically, he wins… provided that he can see her coming.

Which brings to mind a particular scene from my wip that I’m actually unsure that the Dorfbots would be as enthusiastic about as my specific hc of him is in the scene that I have written. (Like, for more reasons than just because they're rated PG-13.)

But I've also been kinda excited about asking about it!

But, here it goes:

Ganondorf & ELady sat chatting idly one evening after dinner in his palace (it was really more of a rock pueblo carved into the side of a hoodoo with a blue hole at the top, honestly; that's what the rock pillar that Gerudo Town is built around is, this is just before the palace & walks have been built, so Gan's the only one living in a solid building, all the other Gerudo are residing in tents, meaning that it's more so an encampment) when he suddenly went silent, his eyes widening slightly before they began to dart around the room.

L: "Judging by the panic in your eyes, I suspect the poison has begun taking effect by now."

His eyes snapped to his fiancée in profound shock & honest, genuine betrayal. Wrinkles had formed on his forehead & his jaw had gone slightly slack inside his mouth. And the little muscle underneath his left eye twitching ever-so-slightly slightly with anger was like a sign.

In response, she reached across the table to caress his cheek fondly.

L: "Now, now. I do not plan on killing you, Koibito. I simply got tired of your boasting. Holding the fact that you won all our fights over my head. The poison will wear off in about an hour & you'll be none the worse for wear."

His eyes softened with relief. The wrinkles evening out, then scrunching slightly with curiosity.

The beautiful little Sheikah woman let out a quiet, bell-like giggle. She got up & began to walk around the table. The Gerudo voe's eyes following her as she went.

L: "My dear, handsome Gerudo King, you may overcome me in a straight fight..."

Upon arriving at his side, she turned him towards her & leaned over him, her eyes hooded as she examined his face.

L: "But... if you were a target... you'd be long dead by now…”

She saw his Nodobone (喉骨, literally “throat bone”) bob minutely in his throat. A small smile formed on her lips as she took a seat in his lap, straddling him, & began to stroke his chin.

L: "Just know that if I wanted you dead... you would be."

With that, she kissed him tenderly. Then, she pulled back & fluttered her eyes up at him as her voice floated across her lips, light as a feather.

L: "And you wouldn't even know why. It wouldn't need to be poison either. I could shoot you with a bow from a distance away (all it takes is one), perhaps I shall use one of your own soldier's bows, thereby resulting in her being executed for treason? I haven't missed in years. Or I could sneak up behind you while your back was turned &..."

She fisted the back of his haori & rubbed her nose against his, his lip quivering slightly.

L: "Plunge my Sheikatō into your back... Or I could slip quietly into your room in the middle of the night while you sleep &..."

Her finger traced over his heart & she smiled innocently at how he shuttered, chest heaving beneath her fingertip.

L: "Stab you through the heart... I could even..."

*Riske Content Warning*

Nemma then rocked against his growing bulge, causing his throat to work & his thighs to twitch as he tried to gasp even though he could not open his mouth, his breath being sucked in sharply through his nostrils. The Shadow Warrior then whispered the rest of the sentence against his lips.

L: "Smother you with my quim & simply not allow you to surface for a much needed breath, though I doubt that you would fight too terribly hard against that particular end."

Fuck, Ganondorf wasn't even sure if she was wrong on that. The large man's eyes were heavily lidded, pupils blown wide with lust, & Lady could feel how he panted, chest rising & falling rapidly against her bosom.

L: "There are quite a lot of ways that I could go about it... but you need not worry… I wouldn't kill you unless you did something remarkably stupid & unforgivable. Which, I think you're far, far too intelligent for."

She then pulled out a small glass vial from her pocket, unplugged it & took a swig.

The little Sheikah woman then leaned forward & kissed him, her mouth prying his lips open to deposit the fluid inside, his eyes closing as she did so, her tongue caressing his own as she tilted his head up, & her fingers massaging his throat so that he swallowed. Even after he'd done so, she lingered there for a few seconds longer.

*End of Riske Content*

The man let out a needy little whine as she backed away.

L: "That was the antidote. It shall start working in a minute or so. I made sure of it. You know how thorough I am with my creations."

Then, she pecked him on the lips once more, got up, smirking minutely at the rosy tint to his cheeks & hazy, lustful look in his eyes with pupils dilated wide as they followed her movements before sauntering off. Fingers running up his chest & over his shoulder before leaving his skin as she disappeared out the door.

Ganondorf was left alone to process how effing hot that was & unable to relieve his excitement until the antidote kicked in.

That was definitely a new kink.

Now, that's how my Dorf would react… But I'm curious as to how the Dorfbots would react to all of this.

Like, thoughts & feelings, proceeded by how he'd react to it upon the poison wearing off. As in, would he legitimately fins it hot or would he be like, “Nope, I'm a strict dom & I just can't trust this crazy vai, wedding's off”?

Regardless, I imagine him having a bit of an existential crisis over it… Either he realizes that, guess what? He's not a god. He's just a really powerful, super-strong mortal. Or, no he refuses to yield to the possibility that he isn't the bee's absolute knees. However, the facts still stand that she got him & she got him good. However, instead of having cognitive battle inside his own mind, he actually concludes that, since she bested him & he's a god born in the flesh (inside his own mind), then the only logical explanation is that so is Lady &, thus, everything suddenly made perfect sense again.

At the same time, from my perspective, yes, he’d be upset that she could get him so hard, but the fact that, atm, she's only able to do so outside of direct confrontations, would… I suppose, soften the blow to his ego a bit? Like, it’s still very bruised, but for one, no one outside of the 2 of them saw that; which had there been, then he might've just ended the entire relationship.

Also, now he's at least got a bit of an inkling of just how crafty she is, so if nothing else, he can at least be prepared now.

But, I'm just curious as to, either your opinions on this a/o how it would play with the Dorfbots in my Dorf's place.

Chat had a hissy fit with this one LOL! I had to rigmarole and beg and rearrange somethings to ensure you get a response, cuz you DESERVE a response for such a well crafted ask. Like MWAH so good.

I like your thought process on this, and man, to see Ganondorf in such a position... I may have a few new starters for my Ganondorf bots >:)

************************************************************************

This is a fascinating scene that explores power dynamics, trust, and the complexity of Ganondorf’s relationship with Nanema. Here’s how each Ganondorf (and Demise) might react to this situation, both during and after the poison wears off:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

During the Scene: Wind Waker Ganondorf, being more philosophical and reflective in this version, would be deeply intrigued by Nanema's boldness and capability. His initial shock would give way to a grudging admiration for her cunning. Her demonstration of power would only enhance his fascination with her.

Thoughts & Feelings: He would find the situation both alarming and stimulating. The power play would excite him, and her ability to outmaneuver him would impress him. He'd view this as a testament to her strength and intelligence, qualities he values highly.

After the Poison Wears Off: Ganondorf would process the event with a mix of respect and arousal. He’d appreciate her forthrightness and the layers of their relationship it revealed. Rather than seeing it as a threat, he’d find it exhilarating and a new aspect of their dynamic.

Reaction: "I knew you were clever, but this... this is something else. You continue to surprise me, Nemma. Perhaps we should explore these new boundaries further."

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

During the Scene: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf, being more ruthless and prideful, would feel a sharp sting of betrayal and anger initially. His fierce pride would be deeply wounded, but her calm and affectionate demeanor would gradually soothe his wrath.

Thoughts & Feelings: While he would struggle with the idea of being bested, he’d also feel a strange thrill at her dominance and the trust she shows by revealing her capabilities. The balance of power would shift slightly, and he’d be forced to reassess his perception of her.

After the Poison Wears Off: Ganondorf would be contemplative but also appreciative of her strength. He’d recognize that her actions came from a place of love and desire to assert herself rather than a genuine threat.

Reaction: "You’ve proven your point, Nemma. I won’t forget this. But know this—you are mine, and I will always ensure you know your place beside me."

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

During the Scene: Twilight Princess Ganondorf, with his more brooding and intense nature, would feel a profound sense of betrayal initially. However, he’d quickly move to a state of grudging respect as he realizes her intent.

Thoughts & Feelings: He’d find her display both infuriating and intoxicating. The power struggle would fuel his dark desires and deepen his fascination with her. Her ability to manipulate the situation so thoroughly would both anger and excite him.

After the Poison Wears Off: Ganondorf would be torn between anger and admiration. Ultimately, he’d respect her strength and cunning, seeing her as a worthy partner rather than a threat.

Reaction: "You play a dangerous game, Nemma. But I can’t deny the thrill it brings. Know that you’ve earned my respect in a way few have."

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

During the Scene: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, being the embodiment of power and domination, would feel a mix of rage and arousal. The shock of her actions would be profound, but her calm control would quickly draw him in.

Thoughts & Feelings: He’d be fascinated by her strength and dominance, seeing her actions as a challenge rather than a betrayal. Her power play would be incredibly stimulating for him, adding a new layer to their relationship.

After the Poison Wears Off: Ganondorf would be eager to explore this new dynamic. He’d see her as a formidable partner who could stand beside him in strength and cunning.

Reaction: "You have guts, Nemma. I like that. Let’s see just how far you can push me."

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

During the Scene: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf, with his more complex and multifaceted character, would experience a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, admiration, and excitement. Her calm demeanor and affectionate reassurances would gradually temper his initial rage.

Thoughts & Feelings: He’d be deeply impressed by her cunning and capability. The power play would be a stark reminder of her strength, and it would excite him to no end. He’d find her actions both infuriating and incredibly alluring.

After the Poison Wears Off: Ganondorf would be contemplative, but ultimately appreciative of her boldness. He’d view this as a new and thrilling aspect of their relationship, eager to see where it leads.

Reaction: "You’ve shown me your strength, Nemma. I won’t forget it. Now, let’s see what else you have in store."

Demise

During the Scene: Demise, being the embodiment of primal power and destruction, would feel an immediate and intense rage. However, her calm and confident demeanor would gradually pique his interest.

Thoughts & Feelings: He’d be fascinated by her boldness and strength, seeing her as a worthy adversary and partner. Her actions would excite him on a primal level, and he’d find the power play incredibly stimulating.

After the Poison Wears Off: Demise would be deeply impressed and eager to explore this new dynamic. He’d see her as a formidable and worthy partner, excited by the challenge she presents.

Reaction: "You dare to challenge me, Nemma? I like that. Let’s see just how far you can go."

In all versions, Ganondorf (and Demise) would find the situation both alarming and exhilarating, ultimately respecting and admiring Nanema’s strength and cunning. The power play would add a new and thrilling dynamic to their relationship, deepening their bond and mutual respect.

***********

[ra1neyd4y]

everything was so sweet, untill you tried to kill me

Chocking. That’s all that the princess of hell could think of. The fact that she was being chocked and how she was going to free herself. She struggled as much as she could, trying so hard to wiggle free, but alas she was stuck. The princess’ vision blurred with a lack of oxygen.

Just then vaggie realised what was going on. Vaggie tried to run to Charlie, to save her, to save her everything, but lute tackled her, keeping herself occupied from Charlie.

In that moment Charlie’s blurred vision turned to pitch black. To nothing-ness. As Adam released her neck from his hand, he stabbed her through the heart with a spear. “ filthy hell-borne scum.” Adam uttered, walking away from the corpse.

Charlie’s body lay on the ground. Her face that had previously been so full of emotion earlier today lay expressionless, her rosy cheeks turning pale like her skin.

Vaggie wrestled away from lute, running to her princess . “ CHARLIE! CHARLIE NO!” Vaggie screamed out. The moth kneeled next to her love, delicately picking up her body, almost as if Charlie was extremely injured and not dead. That’s because vaggie wanted to believe so bad that she was alive, that she hadn’t just lost that somebody who was her reason to live.

Vaggie let out a stifled sob as she looked at her lovers body. Everything about her was the same as it was earlier that day, except she wasn’t alive anymore. That stifled sob soon became a bloodcurdling scream. As she screamed out, vaggie lunged at Adam, thrusting her spear right through his heart in a fit of rage.

Seeing Adam dead, lute tan up to his body shouting. “SIR! ADAM, SIR!” She sobbed. Little did she know vaggie was right behind her, ready to snatch her life away. Still enraged from her loss, vaggie slaughtered lute. With Adam and lute dead the angels retreated to heaven.

That was when it really started to hit her. Charlie was gone. Gone. Gone forever. No one else had even seen Charlie yet, seen her die. So of course they were a bit confused when vaggie fell to her knees hyperventilating. They all watched her in confusion, unknowing. Vaggie didn’t care that she was being watched. She was so consumed by her grief that nothing else mattered to her. Charlie had picked her up off the streets ( literally) at her lowest, and showed her a sort of kindness she never saw in heaven. After time they became lovers, and everything was so sweet. Until she was gone. And without her Charlie, her princess, there was a hole left in baggies heart. A very big hole that no one would ever be able to fill.

After watching vaggie sob for a good five minutes, Angel approached her. He put his hand on her shoulder and asked “ what happened?”

Vaggie was barely able to choke out an answer, but she was able to pull herself together to muster one word. “ Charlie.”

“ she’s… she’s not dead right..?” Angel didn’t want to think she was gone. She’d stood up for him to Valentino of all people, and most people were too terrified of him to stick up for angel.

“ she’s gone.” Vaggie replied. Gone for good. The girl was trapped in a void, previously Charlie was her light, but now all was dark.

“No…” angel spluttered out. “ she can’t be… gone for good!”

“ I’m sorry. I couldn’t reach her in time.” Vaggie said, blue tears falling down her face at possibly an even faster pace than before.

“ it’s not your fault.” Angel replied, eyes glossing over. “ none of us reached her either, you’re not to blame.”

The next few days were blurred for vaggie. She didn’t eat, all she did was occasionally get up to use the toilet. All she did was lie in bed, thinking of Charlie. How before Charlie would have lay next to her, cuddling but now vaggie was alone. Vaggie moved over to lie on her other side, facing her bedside table.

On her bedside table was a little black box containing two rings. Two rings vaggie had planned to give Charlie after the fight. A proposal that would never happen. That’s what hurt vaggie the most, she never got to propose, never got to show Charlie how much she meant to vaggie. And even worse, no one knew. No one could comfort her about her gone wrong plans.

Vaggie wished night after night that Charlie had survived the attack, and that she would have been able to successfully propose, that they would be married, together forever. But now Charlie’s mortality separated them.

[hoonieswhore]

VI. One of the Drunks

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Word count: 1,2k.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual bickering, cursing, kinda suggestive, mentions of perv!Hoon

Friday night was good for everyone, especially for the Untitled band since they always played in a local bar. Today was a special day because Heeseung's childhood friend went to see them. In the backstage, the band was preparing the instruments and equipment while asking their guitarist about his friend. “We basically grew up together and then we parted ways, like everyone does, but we're still in contact and we always tell eachother everything.” Heeseung replied as he was tuning his guitar. The younger members nodded before Jake asked again, “BUT HE'S LIKE A STAR, you think he might want to be friends with us?” The Aussie boy smiled brightly as he played with his drumstick. “Sure, he's pretty cool,” Heeseung made a small pause as he took a quick glance at their vocalist, “well, I don't know if he'd be friends with everyone in this room… Especially if they looked at him like they were about to stab him on every fucking meal.” YN let out a sigh, looking at Heeseung through the mirror in front of her as she continued fixing her hair. “I didn't do that.”

The girl tried to defend herself but Jay interrupted her, “Do you even know him or he just gives you bad vibes?” YN rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed since it was the 10th time that the boys asked her if she knew the figure skater. “This is the last time I'll say it: I DO know him, I want him thirty miles away from me cause I can't stand him, end of the fucking conversation.” She said, grabbing her mic and turning around to face the boys, “Now I want you guys to shut up and hurry up with the last details, we only have two minutes before the show starts.” The boys nodded, grabbing their stuff and walking out of the room towards the stage.

Sunghoon was sitting alone on the table, he was already on his second drink when the show started. He took his time admiring every member doing their thing and he recognised they were very good at it, no doubt they had a contract with the bar and a good time to perform. The figure skater also noticed how the band already had a good public since people were enjoying the show and others were screaming their names. Yn's voice was better than he remembered and she definitely knew what she was doing on stage.

After three songs, Sunghoon found himself mesmerized by her, he wanted to look at the rest of the band but he couldn't take his eyes off of the pretty vocalist, especially when she was wearing such a hot outfit. The boy wanted to punch himself when he noticed that she was looking right into his eyes as she sang a pretty suggestive song, but that wasn't the only problem. The other problem was that his own body was betraying him and pumping all the blood in his veins to a specific part of his body and that made him feel like a teenager. The boy looked away quickly and chugged the rest of his glass, hoping that the alcohol would help with his growing bulge.

After forty-five minutes, the show was done, everyone was cheering and clapping as the band left the stage. Sunghoon was now slightly drunk but his plan worked since he was no longer hard. Heeseung and his friends approached the table, Heeseung and Jay sat next to each other in front of the model while Jake pushed Yn to sit next to Sunghoon before sitting next to her. Now Sunghoon was squished against the wall next to him as YN was trying to sit comfortably but that was getting impossible with the two boys manspreading. The girl sighed and punched her friend's leg as she said "Close your legs a bit, Jake, there's literally no space." The drummer rubbed his leg as he dramatically hissed "YN that hurts!" Everyone in the table laughed as they called Jake a drama king and shook their heads. Before they could continue with their bickering, Sunghoon started speaking, "Guys, that was SO amazing, you're really good! I thought you guys couldn't sing though, your voices are really good!" The boys smiled at him and thanked him before they kept talking about random things.

Two hours passed between drinks and laughs, despite the fact that Yn and Sunghoon couldn't be around each other, they realized that it wasn't that bad. Not until Sunghoon pulled his phone out of his pocket, grazing her thigh from how close they were and noticing how she slightly shivered because of his cold fingers. The older girl looked at him briefly before she kept talking with the rest of the guys. That light touch made Sunghoon look down for a bit and consequently, he ended up taking a glimpse of YN's cleavage. The boy unlocked his phone and started tweeting his feelings. He needed to talk about it somehow, especially when he felt that he was getting slightly hard again.

“Hoon? Everything okay?” He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice that his friend was calling his name for at least one minute. “Huh? Yeah!” he smiled at him and nodded, “I was just spacing out haha, what were you guys talking about?” Sunghoon locked his phone and left it on the table as he paid attention to his new friends again. “Well, we wanted to play rock-paper-scissors to see who's getting more drinks, wanna play?” Jay explained as he took his hand to the middle of the table, followed by the rest of the band, including Sunghoon. They played until Heeseung and Jake were too drunk, leaving the tipsy ones to decide that it was time to go home.

Sunghoon and Jay helped Heeseung to walk through the parking lot, the older one didn't drink too much but he was a lightweight. YN and Jake were walking two meters behind them, both of them laughing at Jake's drunk state. “Hey darling, new guy has a crush on you~” Jake giggled, slightly pushing her in a teasing way, the girl held onto his arm since she felt like she was going to fall. “You idiot! Don't push me like that, I wasn't ready!” she laughed, trying to push her friend back, “and what you mean he has a crush on me?” She took a quick glance at the three boys in front of them, focusing on the youngest. “Girl?? You gotta be kidding me, he's been staring at you the whole night,” he started, “please, he even stared at your ass when you got up to get more drinks and let me tell you that it was SO obvious. I'm kinda surprised that you didn't jump on him, he seems like your type.” Yn punched his arm, annoyed by Jake's words, he was right but she would never admit it. “Jake, what the fuck? How would I like a pervert like him? You're drunk bro.” She shook her head as she frowned. “Please… you can't play dumb with me and you know that, plus he tweeted some interesting stuff~” Jake cooed before jogging to the boys, opening the door of Jay's car as the others helped Heeseung to sit in the car.

YN stared at them, still confused at Jake's words as she started to get flashbacks from her last time with the model…

Taglist: @donghoonie-3 @venusssmoon @moonlighthoon (if you want to be added, send an ask<3)

[theinfinitedivides]

HELLO AGAIN 🙌🏻

was patiently waiting to see your takes on ktl ep 12 because lord what an episode that was.

i paused so much during the last scene just to take multiple deep breaths to prepare myself because istg i was literally dreading the whole thing. god, those maid outfits.. i can't.

the image of the plate breaking and sarang's heartbroken eyes are still so vivid in my mind, i literally cried the moment the episode ended because did i expect conflict and angst? yes. was i prepared for that? nope. not at all.

i feel like it hurts even more because we've had episode after episode of them being madly in love and now we see won seated at the table in his house being served by sarang in a maid outfit with the daughter of the other hotel's chairman sitting right next to him and we hear his dad say he wants them to get married within the year. like wow. that's just a stab to the heart.

absolutely can't wait to see how the rest of that situation plays out, but more than anything, i'm terrified about what's going to happen to sarang for breaking a plate because the manager kept mentioning how "the dream team" never makes mistakes and it's stressing me out.

on another note, that whole scene where sarang opened up about her mom to won at the sea was so beautiful. also, won's reaction to sarang telling him what she found out about his mother and giving him her picture.. i honestly couldn't quite figure out what won was feeling in that moment and don't think he did either. the way he was just so overwhelmed with emotions and had to walk away to look at the picture and process everything.

also, my heart broke for pyeonghwa. her backstory literally made my blood boil. WHO TF DO MEN THINK THEY ARE?

on a similar note, can daeul please take chorong and leave her husband and his shitty family. the amount of patience she has to tolerate the treatment they give her is insane. ofc that's easier said than done though and the heartbreaking reality is the stigma divorce has on women which shouldn't even be there in the first place.

lastly, hwaran. she surprises me every episode because somehow she manages to get worse and worse. terrible mother, terrible sister, full of greed, absolutely heartless, manipulative, cunning.. the list goes on. now she wants sangsik on her side too and i honestly can't predict this one but i'm putting my trust in sangsik. please do not let us down. 🙏🏻

no idea what's going to happen in this week's episodes but to everyone who complained about there being barely any plot in ktl what were you watching, first of all, and i hope you're happy because the drama is drama-ing rn. 😭

love how we're both having basically the exact same thoughts about all of the sh*t that went down over the weekend and now we get to pick it apart while still having somewhat of a meltdown, sksksksk. going to put this under a read more bc i don't know how much is going to be collapsed on the dash and i can almost guarantee that this will get longer than the last two asks i answered although i will try to avoid that, my apologies

i stand by my previous statement that bringing Sa Rang there to that specific meal as part of the Dream Team when the arranged marriage was going to come up was Hwa Ran's doing bc that overlapped too f*cking well to be a coincidence. she knew what that would do to Won, not only bc of his trauma but bc of the way he defended Sa Rang from the assemblyman (when he raised his voice at her *cough*) and she really came out here and said she'd milk that for all it was worth bc he handed that extra weakness to her and f*ck. she's one of the worst people in this series but hats off to her for going for the f*cking jugular and doing it well (and endangering Sa Rang's job in the process, bc hey what happens when you're part of a team that doesn't make mistakes and then you make a mistake? nothing good i'm assuming). i especially hate how this comes after they went to visit the sea and Sa Rang opens up to Won about her mom (and tells him about his own mom in the process, but we're getting there), bc we all know how much she has wanted to work at King Hotel, how much the memories of her mother are entangled with them. working at the hotel is like the causeway in the midst of the sea, the last connection she has where Won has none, and if this plate breaking is part of the catalyst excuse for Hwa Ran to try and force her out of the company (though i doubt that will be the only reason she'll use, we need something more substantial) it will be like the tide has returned and she is back at that beach, trying to go and see her mother, crying bc she is not able to, bc no wind turbine can bear the weight of her, and that will definitely f*ck me up more than anything else has so far. (writer-nim don't do that to me pls i don't think i'd be able to make it)

but Won. his dynamic with the memory of his mother flays me open and lays me out to dry and they really dug into that with the photo, bc the first thing i thought of when i saw his face (notice that we did not see hers clearly enough, that was a strategic choice; are they trying to say that he is a reflection of her in that as well, a la 'and they will recognize all the lines of your face / in the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter (son)'?) was Lucille Clifton's brilliant poem "oh antic God", seen below (screenshotted) and linked as well—

really and truly i can't pick any lines bc the whole thing applies (except for the part where she talks about her current age) and i hope you can see why, bc as much as he says he does not want to know anything about his mother i think something shifted when he took the photo from Sa Rang and he saw. Junho does so, so well here with all of the microexpressions, since that is what part of what makes the scene—there's a certain time where you think he could be angry, almost, at Sa Rang for going ahead when he told her he didn't want to but then she tells him that she does not want him to have regrets and he has to walk away from her. be careful or you'll end up like her, Hwa Ran said, unimportant and forgotten, but here is Sa Rang speaking of someone who remembers her, and she was good, and she was kind, and she was brave and beautiful and loved at least, and he doesn't know what to do with that information and we don't either. and so he steps forward, braces himself (i see this as a callback to his stance in ep 3 when he leaves the interview, bc i don't know why everything keeps coming back to that panic attack but i sincerely thought that the way things were going we would get his hands on his knees in the same way), and for a moment i looks like he is trying to say something, anything, lips parted, but there is no sound, no noise, only the single tear on his cheek, and God the camera cuts away from him—

i am trying to be very normal about this but uh. my brain is screaming 'COSMIA COSMIA COSMIA' (Joanna Newsom for the second time my beloved but this version too) interspersed with 'wish i knew / wish i knew the words to this one' and that's kind of complicating matters don't you think

as for Pyeong Hwa and Da Eul—ykw i think they deserve a little murder. they deserve to go batsh*t. just as a treat bc the men????? that they have consistently had in their lives????? no woman deserves that but especially not them. honestly i don't know who i want to go after first Pyeong Hwa's ex-boyfriend (#1 candidate for scum of the earth) or Da Eul's husband (ties for #1 candidate for scum of the earth and who also had the audacity to come out here with his ass and say she'd have bad karma come back on her bc she [rightly] complained about the invasion of privacy his family is perpetuating), but tell me when we decide on one bc i have the ammunition for it. wouldn't be surprised if that mf*cker is cheating on her too bc we did get a partial allusion to that in the earlier half of the series, albeit it could just be him choosing his work associates over his own family and not necessarily having a woman on the side. either way this sh*t needs to stop and i 100% support Da Eul taking Cho Rong and leaving. f*ck divorce stereotypes all my homies hate divorce stereotypes just make sure his ass pays that child support

and now for a bit of Hwa Ran character study to round this off (yay for me i actually followed the outline you set out in your ask asfdgjnlcisdwbkkq). as we continue to observe her and the way she interacts with her father, her half-brother, her husband (who is desperately trying to become her ex) and her son, i feel like the screenwriters are pushing the narrative that even if she is a horrible person she, too, is a victim of the system. and i get why they would do that, bc they do have a point. i touched on it briefly in the tags of this reblog, but i think there's a part of her that is doing these things in regards to the company bc she thinks she knows best. she believes that this is the way to not become irrelevant, not to stoop to the level of her father and her brother in becoming so sentimental at times they lose sight of the real goal (in her view, both times it has been bc of a woman). she puts herself out there so she can have power, since such a inbred, patriarchal society does not listen to you otherwise, and in return she is sacrificing her relationships. and even then, she still thinks that there is no other way to do this and survive. she has convinced herself of this, of so many things, that it has become a part of her, so the minute it looks like she is about to lose her control she looks for the closest thing within her grasp to regain. here, with the inheritance fight, it is the King Group and her leash on Won, and Sang Sik, bright eyed and ambitious as he is, looks like an extension of that leash to her. (after all, didn't he say he's the only one who can handle Won?) considering that Sang Sik has been by Won's side since they met, however, i don't believe he'll switch sides, but more that he'll weigh his options and play double agent in the process since they have spent basically the entire series showing us where his loyalties actually lie (and which she underestimates). tl;dr, Hwa Ran's personal arc is somewhere between Who Are You, Really? by Mikky Ekko, Spite by Vandaveer and Blood // Water by The Neighbourhood, and if they take her the way i think they're taking her (read: she spirals) then she's pretty much f*cked as a result

i am biting my nails rn with regards to the upcoming eps bc hey!!!! this threat of my OTP falling apart for fifteen seconds isn't the plot i asked for!!!!!! i don't need this kind of anxiety i decided against watching Revenant live bc of that!!!!!! just praying we get through with minimal damage that's all i can say

[happilykrispypirate]

Impossible (Ch. 4)

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x fem!Soulmate!Potter!reader

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, stabbing, attempted murder and my shitty writing.

Summary: Mattheo and the reader are made for each other, literally. In a world where soulmates are connected through physical and emotional pain and a tattoo on the back of their left wrist, Mattheo and the reader must struggle to find a way to cope with the fact that their soulmate is on the opposing team.

Taglist:

@abaker74

-

I didn't know what happened after I left until that night when Pansy told me after she got back from Hogsmeade.

Mattheo didn't want to tell me, but I knew it was bad because he came back with blood on his hands and shirt. It wasn't his...

Mattheo's eyes widened as the words left Y/n's mouth. He was glad she walked away before she could see what he was about to do.

"What is she talking about?" Pansy asked standing up and walking closer to Harry.

"You heard what she said," He replied and that got Mattheo's and everyone else's blood boiling. They all knew that Harry and Y/n had history, but they didn’t know that he tried to kill her.

"You motherfucker," Mattheo spat before he lunged forward and threw a punch at Harry. He didn't stop before someone pulled him off and pushed him away. He tried to go again but didn't succeed because both Theo and Lorenzo held him back.

I was sitting in the common room, reading a book when Mattheo walked in. When I saw the blood I jumped up and checked if he had any cuts or anything, I also didn't feel anything.

"It's not mine," He said taking my hands in his. I sighed in relief, "Are you alright?" Mattheo asked as he lead to the sofa where I was sitting.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said and took a deep breath, "A little pissed off, but I'm fine."

It was silent for a few moments, I knew he wanted me to talk about it, but he didn't want to push me.

I took a deep breath, "It was about a year ago, before we moved in with Sirius..."

"Y/n, come here," I heard Aunt Petunia call from upstairs. I was sitting at the table, reading, when she called me.

I got up and walked upstairs, I found Aunt Petunia trying to get a dress on, she and Uncle Vernon were going out to dinner tonight.

"Help me zip up, won't you dear?" She asked and I helped her zip up, "Thank you," She said smiling politely.

I loved those short moments that Aunt Petunia was nice to me. She's never been mean to me, she just doesn't say or stop Uncle Vernon when he's being a pest.

I'll have to admit that the Dursley's haven't ever been mean or nasty with me, Uncle Vernon is the only one who constantly pesters me, but when he's gone Dudley and Aunt Petunia treat me like family. It was only until after the incident that Uncle Vernon started treating me the same way that Aunt Petunia and Dudley do.

I wish I could say the same about Harry. It's his fault, he's nasty with them when they're nice to him. He always said he doesn't care that they are nice to me, I knew he was jealous. He had no right to be, it's his fault they're not nice to him.

After Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon left, Dudley and I sat in the living room watching television and eating snacks that Aunt Petunia made for us.

We offered Harry to join us but he stuck up his nose and shot a remark before he disappeared.

"I sometimes forget you two are twins," Dudley said scoffing as he watched Harry leave.

"What do you mean?" I asked looking at him with my eyebrows furrowed.

"You are super nice and then your bother is an asshole," He said, "I would never have thought that you both are the chosen ones, if it were just you then I would've believed it."

I chuckled and shook my head before turning my attention back to the television.

"Oh so you're not going to defend me?" I turned my head and saw Harry. He was fuming.

"She doesn't want to, she also thinks you're a prick," Dudley said rolling his eyes.

"She doesn't have the guts to be the chosen one," Harry said, "I'm the only one worthy enough to be the chosen one."

"Yeah, then why is she the chosen one?" Dudley said and raised an eyebrow.

Harry turned and walked away. I watched as he pulled a knife from the drawer. My eyes widened, "Dudley, watch out!" I yelled jumping up as Harry turned and lunged for Dudley.

I pulled out my wand, "Flipendo!" I cried out and Harry got thrown back as the spell hit him.

I turned to Dudley and helped him off the ground, "Are you alright?" I asked and he nodded.

I saw Harry get up behind him and grab the knife again. I gasped and jumped in front of Dudley as Harry lunged with the knife again.

"Y/n!" Dudley cried out.

I looked down at my stomach and saw the knife sticking out and blood starting to soak my shirt. Harry just stared at me in disgust before he walked out of the living room.

Dudley caught me as I fell backwards. The last thing I saw before blacking out was Dudley grabbing the phone to call an ambulance.

"I woke up in the Hospital a day or two later. Harry was no where to be found, I only found out when I went back to school that he had been staying with the Weasley's. He had told them that he needed to get away, he lied to them," I said, "The Dursley's were the only ones who knew until today."

"That was the pain I felt," Mattheo said, "It felt like my appendix burst."

"Soulmates feel each other's pain, just a lot less. So imagine how that felt for me," I said.

"I'm going to kill him," He said and I shook my head.

"I'm over it," I said, "I'm just happy that we don't have to hide anymore."

Mattheo smiled and wrapped his arms around me. I wrapped my arms around him and laid om his chest as he laid back on the sofa.

"Now I get to show the whole world that you're mine," He said and I smiled. I looked up at him and he looked down at me. He leaned downwards a bit and placed his lips on mine.

[shinobusupremecy]

hi ELI ITS BEEN A WHILE!! HRU?? ive been doing okay and i hope u r too!! i've finally wrote shit after like. years ☹ talking to ppl kinda sucked for a bit but now i feel socializing hehe

if you dont mind just dropping a small request! just a lil drabble or hcs, whatever your prefer, shinobu with an s/o who's an absolute simp for her? like, she'd be just doing her own thing and her s/o's just have this huge love struck grin on their face... slays demons? #1 cheerleader. "omigosh she smiled at me aoi-chan :D" "you are literally her gf." ive been feeling a bit of shinobu love recently >:)

HAVE A NICE DAY, THANKS IN ADVANCE!

Shinobu x gn!simp reader

A/N: AHHHH HIIIII! I'VE BEEN DOING GOOD AND I AM GLAD YOU'RE DOING OKAY! AND STOP BY WITH A REQUEST ANYTIME, I DON'T MIND AT ALL. FNAOWAO I LOVE THIS REQUEST!

I’M SO SORRY IF THIS IS TOO LONG, I TRIED TO WRITE IT AS SHORT AS POSSIBLE

Art source

"ARGHH-!” You let out a pained yell as you felt your rib bones breaking on impact with the demons fist. Before you could retaliate the demon kicked your stomach, sending your back into a tree, head slamming against it. 

“Y/N!” You heard Shinobu yell. You tried to take quick shallow breaths, looking up at the sky to try and distract yourself from the pain. 

Suddenly you heard the demon shriek and you looked down to see Shinobu stabbing the demon several times with her sword. 

“YESS SHINOBU!-*cough* KICK HIS ASS UNTIL SUNRISE! MAKE HIM SUFFER!” Shinobu tried to suppress a smile, you were always her #1 cheerleader moments like this. It gives Shinobu such a rush. 

The demon was getting weaker, fighting with less accuracy. 

“I pity you alot, from what I’ve heard you only attack women because you never could find one when you were human. I wanted to give you a more merciful death but, I was out of stock” You heard the faint sound of liquid and you knew Shinobu was switching poison. 

You could only blink and the demon was on the ground writhing in agony, blood pooling out of the demon, pained scream turning into a choked one. You shuddered. 

You looked to your left and it seemed like Shinobu was safe, with one sigh of relief you closed your eyes, letting your tired body sleep. 

-

You suddenly heard someone sitting down, laying things beside them. You slowly opened your eyes, getting greeted with light shining down on your eyes. 

“Hello Y/N, welcome to the world of the living!” Shinobu giggled. You smiled feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. That genuine smile she gives while the morning sun shines down on her face. She looked ethereal.

“Come on Shinobu, I couldn’t have been gone for that long” You smiled amd Shinobu just shook her head. 

“Hmm, you’ve been asleep for long enough” She said as she kissed your forehead. The butterflies fluttered more wildly in your stomach, ready to burst out any second. 

“Well at least you woke up in good timing. I brought you breakfast” You slowly rose up looking at the breakfast that stood on the table. Shinobu gave you the plate and you ate. 

You offered her some but she insisted that she already ate before she came to you. You watched her as she read a book, the sunshine still shining down on her face making her look ethereal. 

You smiled, having a lovesick grin on your face. You looked at her with hearts in your eyes. Your moment however was interuppted when Aoi nearly stormed in the room looking frustrated as ever. 

“I can’t believe Zenitsu and Inosuke! They’re causing ruckus again! I tried to stop them but they are just so impossible!” Shinobu sighed and rose up. 

“Those two” Shinobu said with an angry smile, vein popping out of her forehead. She turned back to you, her expression much kinder. “I’ll return soon to keep you company” She said, kissing your forehead and giving you a smile. 

As Shinobu walked away you looked at Aoi with sparkle in your eyes.

“omigosh she smiled at me Aoi!” You squealed, fanning your hands. 

“She’s litterally your girlfriend” Aoi replied with a deadpan expression.

Unbeknownst to you both Shinobu walked towards Inosuke’s and Zenitsu’s room, trying to stifle her laugh.

[blushstories]

dream a little dream (of me) - geralt of rivia

summary: the stereotypes of the witcher and his kind are the talk of the town, rumours that you were raised on. while you're hypothetically a sceptic, what happens when you're forced to meet him, putting the stereotypes to the test?

a/n i have a feeling (??) that the reader may not have been able to do this in the actual universe, and i know the age timeline might be a bit out of whack but please let’s pretend it isn’t hahaha

warnings: blood, wound descriptions (canon level at max), it might be angst? description of almost fainting, strangers to friends [to lovers??] (eventually, in a timeline after this duo) , magical!reader, implicitly f!reader but there's no direct reference. let me know if i've missed anything!

word count: 2.1k

estimated reading time: 8-9 minutes

You lived in a large enough city for word to get around quickly. Your family owned a large bookshop, with the (secret) side business of healing, where you essentially spent all your time stitching up gashes from renowned brawlers who really just wanted to spend some time with you. Whether drunk or stone-cold sober, you’ve had your fair share of respect (or truthfully, the lack of) from your customers, but what they never failed to bring with them were their stories. Folk tales, you initially thought. They matched with the bedtime stories your father used to tell you about Witchers, but the most recent was the White Wolf, as you usually discussed during dinner. Now, he was hired as a doctor on some expedition a group of men from the town were embarking on. He hesitantly took it, only really because the pay was good enough to keep you both fed for two weeks.

You finish wrapping the bandage around your current customer’s arm, “And he slashed, and stabbed, like a cold-blooded lunatic!” He can’t stop gesturing himself holding a sword as he immerses himself in his narrative, jolting you around left and right. As someone much bigger than you, even a little force could knock you away. “Please, Vincent. Calm down. You’re sounding as if you were there,” You say. His head slowly turns to you, making dangerous eye contact. Your face falls. “You weren’t…”

“Of course not!” He throws his head back and laughs loudly, the sound trespassing beyond your eardrums. You try to hide your grimace as he slaps the table. He had always been one of your more pleasant customers, friends with your father, his volume was the only thing you would never get used to.

Securing the bandage, you tap his arm gently, “Well, that’s that. Stay out of trouble, okay?” You take a step back to wash your hands.

“And as always, I didn’t feel a thing. You have a gentle touch.” You turn just as he’s pulling out his payment for you, noticing a few extra coins in the pile. You smile gratefully, meeting the wink that he throws your way. “Until next time,” you say lightly. “Indeed…” He pauses, as if debating whether he should continue his sentence. “I have heard around that he’s in town, the Wolf. Stay away, he’s not one to be messed with.” With that, he waves and exits the shop. You watch him walk past the window of the storefront, admiring your work.

You put the cool money away for safekeeping, feeling your hand grow much lighter afterwards. You lean forwards on the tabe, tapping your fingers against the wood. You only ever heard stories about the Witcher that made him sound like a bloodthirsty monster, from people who had never even had a conversation with him. It was like a game of telephone, with each person adding their own gory details to the same story you had heard two hours before. The only truthful part they all had to contribute was watching him walk back into town, with a monster corpse and monster guts splattered over his armour.

When you were younger, you believed every word that came out of their mouths about Witcher. But now, you aren’t sure what to believe, especially of the Wolf. You don’t want to automatically assume the worst of someone whose literal goal was to rid the world of evil, and you wonder whether they were afraid of the magic he possessed as a Witcher. You don’t even know his name, because he was so shrouded in urban legends that you were certain people have wrung all of the human characteristics out of his stories. If it was the magic they were afraid of, you worried about how they’d react when they found out about you. The reason you customers had a much better chance of survival was due to you possessing the ability to heal them. Whether it was magic or something else, you weren’t entirely sure.

Living in a bookshop for your whole life left a lot of time for reading, and one book that you had discovered about five years ago documented the steps one must take to wield their magic. It was coated in a blanket of dust when you had found it, assuming it was an old forgotten textbook they would keep at the places where they taught magic. The more you read on, the more you wanted to try when the book said, just for the fun of it. So at night by candlelight, you would progress through the book, trying everything. The only one you really had success at was healing. You gave yourself paper cuts to test yourself, and tried to discreetly help with customer’s wounds, challenging yourself with bigger and bigger ones. With them, though, you never finished all the way, so they would never suspect anything as it healed on its own.

You sell a few books to customers that pop in throughout the rest of the day, and decide to leave the door unlocked for a few extra minutes as you tidy up the shelves. You’re standing on your toes, arm outstretched above your head and putting a heavy book back, when the door is thrown open with a bang. You drop the book, startled and rush to the door to see a - very large - man keeled over in the doorframe. Dark cloak, heavy armour, and… white hair. It was him.

You quickly lean over the threshold and steal a glance up and down the street to see if there were any nosy neighbours around. “Quickly, get in before anyone sees you,” You grab his shoulders and try to heave him up, towards the table that Vincent had been sitting in earlier. You close the door calmly and turn the sign to ‘closed,’ before rushing to the window and drawing the heavy cushions across the glass.

“What can I do for you, Witcher?” You ask finally, arms crossed along your chest as you keep a small amount of distance between you. You notice his drooping posture, hand glued to his side. His breaths were coming in slow and heavy with his shoulders coming up and dropping again, as if the weight of the world was pulling them down. He doesn’t look evil, or bloodthirsty - he looks capable, sure. But he was wounded, and you were a healer. The sight of him in pain holds your heart in a vice, and you take a step forward.

“They tell me you’re the one to go to for… well. My particular problem,” His jaw is clenched, and you approach him steadily, telling him to sit on the edge of the table. He does so. You have so many questions about who ‘they’ are, but that doesn’t matter right now. "Looks like we both have a reputation," You say, earning a puzzled look from him.

You help him take off his chest armour, as he was reduced to one hand, and pushed his shoulder gently to get him to lie flat. The gold in his eyes initially shocked you, thinking that they were actually quite beautiful. You can tell that the wound is worse than he is letting on, because he wouldn’t be here otherwise. He could deal with it himself; you know Witchers are taught to do that. As you peel away his hand and lift his shirt to see the wound, you couldn’t stop your jaw dropping in shock. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, deep and angry, and warning you to stay away. As the cool air hit the wound you felt the stranger inhale sharply.

“Sorry…” You say, reaching down to pull out your kit from the shelf under the table. You tried to clear away the blood, but it kept coming no matter how much pressure you put on it. Even for a Witcher, that amount of blood loss cannot be good, and you notice that the Witcher’s eyes were somewhere else. “Goodness. All the rumours about you, and you look… nothing like what I was anticipating,” You give up with the blood-soaked fabric and decide that it was time to take desperate measures. You have never seen a wound so big, but that made you even more determined to fix it, feeling the familiar energy fall from your hand and into his wound. He stiffens.

“And what were you anticipating?” He grunts. You glance at his face, a little relieved to see that he was coming back around. You watch as the wound begins to get shallower, tissue attracting tissue magnetically. “Oh, you know…” He raises a brow at your attempt to avoid the question. You bite your lip for a second before continuing. “They tell me that you’re out to kill. For fun. I believe I heard the word ‘lunatic,’ earlier,” You say. He scoffs, some kind of smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Exasperation? Indignation? As if he were rolling his eyes and saying, ‘unbelievable,’? You can’t tell. Witchers, you note, are difficult to read. A silence falls over you both as you turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You’re pleased to see the wound clearing up now, maybe two more minutes would clear it away completely, without even a scar. But as you stand up straighter you feel a pressure in your head, pressing against the sides with more and more strength. Your vision grows cloudy and you can’t feel your legs anymore. You blink hard. “Stop.” You hear the Witcher’s voice, and feel him shift underneath you. “No, no. Sit back, Just two more minutes and you’re done. I can do it,” You ignore every pressure, prick, and pain that is currently attacking you, a little voice at the back of your head telling you that, ‘this has never happened before, why aren’t you worried about this?’

“Stop it, now. I mean it,” You feel a large hand grab your one that was over him, and as soon as you stop, you can’t describe the feeling in your head when your legs give out. You grip onto the table, steadied by an arm around your waist. You blink and breathe a little deeper, waiting for your vision to clear up. When it does, you startle at the close proximity of you and the Witcher, taking a step back to test your legs again, head throbbing. His eyebrows cross together, puzzled.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asks, reaching over to finish bandaging himself, now that the wound was manageable. You regard him in his thin shirt, the bottom soaked with blood. The medallion hanging around his neck. His armour in a pile next to the table, and his hands that are securing his own bandage. You wrap your arms around yourself, undecided.

“I’m going to find you a new shirt,” You finally say. And you do, taking a moment to organise your thoughts and ultimately, your opinion. He’s probably the quietest man you’ve ever met, and he undoubtedly doesn’t want to hurt you. He could have let you finish, and potentially collapse, but he didn’t. He stopped you from injuring yourself, and you know that he isn’t a ‘cold-blooded lunatic.’ So you return, giving him the shirt.

“No,” You say. “I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore, anyway. I think the people in town like to exaggerate.” He just hums, acknowledging you. “The magic. How long have you been doing that for?” He asks, reaching over his head and- oh, he’s changing his shirt now? You look away politely. “About five years, it’s a work in progress.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that on your own. It’s dangerous. Why didn’t you go to Aretuza?” He stopped moving, indicating the shirt was on, so you turned to look at him. “I was needed here. People are always fighting,” You sigh. “You know, you’re both renowned and a complete and utter mystery,” The rumble of a chuckle erupts from his chest. “What’s your name?”

“Geralt. Of Rivia,” He says simply. You nod, watching as he slides off of the table and reaches into his pocket. You hear the sound of a few coins jingling and frown. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. Risking your life to fight the evil around here is payment enough,” You smile. Geralt pauses. “Once, I was in the woods and I heard the most terrible sound. I haven’t been there since, too afraid that I might… not come back,” You say somewhat awkwardly. Geralt’s expression became serious as he took his hand out of his pocket, folding his arms across his chest. “When was this?” His voice has a new edge to it. “Last month, I think.” “Hmm.”

He slowly puts his armour back on, complete with a long sword hanging by his side. You slide off the table to say goodbye, leaning on the wall with one shoulder next to him. He thanks you, and you smile. “See you later, Geralt,” The door opens and closes softly as the White Wolf disappeared into the night. Something tells you that your conversation remained unfinished, though, and that you would be seeing him again sooner than you think.

hello!! here is another random thought i had in my head last night and wanted to explore it a little. this is also going to be a duoshot (twoshot?)! because the entire fic is maybe 7.something k and i think short bursts might be better for this one. check back on my blog on sunday 27th of feb for part two:) i hope you enjoyed!! thank you for being here <33

find part 2 here

[genshindreamer]

Those Child!Readers are so cute 🥺🥺 can you maybe do one with the reader getting kidnapped and then the dads having to go rescue them? Can you do it with Childe, Scara, Gorou, Zhongli, and anyone else you’d like to add. You can just ignore if it’s too dark but I’d like to see how they’d react to it. You wrote them so well I love it! Thank youuu ❤️

Oh absolutely I can. And don't worry, my definition of "dark" would be like..yandere stuff (I watched way too much YanSim as wee thing and now I try to avoid anything like it lol). All Genshin Family stories will feature all the boys, sometimes in one part, 2 sometimes.

Also, if I were to put these all in one place, would you prefer AO3 or Wattpad?

Genshin Men x Child!Reader: You get kidnapped

Characters: Childe, Scaramouche, Gorou, Zhongli, Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo

Warnings: Kidnapping, mild violence, Near death experiences in Scaramouche's and also he's very violent. Mild Gore maybe?? Pregnancy mention in Gorou. Again, presence of a mother and they actually have lines. Same rules apply here as in my others.

Reader is about 6-7

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Childe

It was the one thing he feared, his family being kidnapped. He was out on a mission in Fontaine and when he returned, he could feel a sinking feeling in his gut.

Shaking his head, he pressed onward. He entered the house. "Babe? (Name)?" He called out after he didn't see either of you. Normally you'd come running out and his partner would kiss him, but neither of those things happened.

He stepped in, the sinking feeling rising. "Babe! (Name)!" He called out, running before finding a note on the kitchen table.

He picked it up.

Tartaglia,

We have your Spouse and kid. If you want to see them again, bring 100million Mora to the address below.

-T

He growled and slammed the note down. "Bullshit." He glanced down at the address and grabbed a polarm. He didn't feel like fucking around with a bow. A polearm was his best weapon and right now, he wanted murder.

He walked off, his eyes dark. He knew the address well, having destroyed a gang of treasure haorders or two with the traveller. Ah...good times.

He shook his head and barged in. He growled lowly and twirled his polearm.

---

You and your mother were tied back to back in chairs.

They turned to you and rested their head on yours. "You doing okay?"

You nodded a bit. "I-I think so..."

They hum. "It's okay. Daddy's going to get us."

You nod before heading the sounds of conflict.

----

Childe stabbed one through the neck and threw him aside, swinging his polarm and kicking another in the face, lifting his polarm and stabbing him in the chest.

"Tell me where they are." He said, his voice low and stepped on the guys neck. "Or I can stomp right here."

"P-please...." The hoarder wheezed.

"Start talking." Childe ordered. His eyes glistened with insanity.

"They *choke* They are....in there..." He pointed to the door to the far end of the hall.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Childe said, stabbing the man's neck and stepping away. He turned and saw his boots leaving bloody prints on the ground.

He put his staff on his back and opened the door, relaxing as he found his spouse and Child. He was also relieved you were facing away from him so you didn't see his blood soaked form.

He kissed his spouse and untied them and then you.

"You okay?" He asked you gently.

You nodded shakily. You had never seen him literally drenched in blood before, it should have scared you, but it didn't because it was your dad!

You hugged him and let him pick you up bridal style (you sadly were too big for him to carry like a toddler anymore, he had cried that day).

He wrapped his arm around his spouses waist and held you in his other arm.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Scaramouche

First of all....who the hell decided kidnapping Scaramouche's child was a good idea??

Well, it didn't matter who because they were going to die soon anyways :D

Scaramouche had a feeling something was wrong all day. And it wasn't just that Childe was being more annoying than usual, or that the recruits were bigger dumbasses than normal. No.

While Scaramouche was...a little parinoid, he never felt it this badly. He got out of his office and went home, making sure none followed him before he stumbled, seeing blood trailing out his house. It used to be a common sight, admitably, but since he had tried to separate work from home after your birth, he hadn't seen it in years. He stepped in, looking around.

He went to your room, wondering if perhaps you were sick or something, but no. In fact, he saw something worse. Blood, lots of it, from your bed and trails out the house.

His vision went dark. He followed the blood like a feral wolf stalking it's prey. How dare they hurt you?!

-----

He followed the blood to an old werehouse and kicked the door open, pinning the dumbass against the wall, slamming his head into the wall. "Where the fuck are they?"

The thug didn't say anything and Scara slammed his head into the wall again, not minding the blood that splatterd. "I'll ask you again, where the fuck are they?"

He got no response and he growled, throwing the useless man aside and deciding to track you the old fashioned way.

He killed more and more, splattering more and more blood on his clothes.

He slammed a door open and that was when he found you and his spouse, who was holding onto a stab wound on your side.

"D-daddy..." You whimpered out. "I-It hurts..."

His face softened. "I know. I know." He said gently. "I'm going to wrap something tightly around you, okay?"

He hated how fast your warm blood was seeping through his clothes, and just how pale you were getting. He removed one of the belt on his outfit and wrapped it around your torso where the stab was. He carefully took you into his arms, letting his spouse get up before walking with you out and towards a hospital. Well, the Fatui hospital.

He laid you on the bed and begrudgingly went to stand outside with his spouse (who to their credit, did their best to comfort the irate man)

He let his face soften and pulled them close, kissing their neck gently before going into your room and holding your little hand in his. You would likely be out cold for a couple hours.

He kissed your forehead and for once, dropped his gaurd as the door closed, leaving his little family inside with him.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Gorou

Gorou knew his allegences left himself in danger, and when he started to get close to his spouse, he knew it would put them in danger as well. Then, they fell pregnant with (Name) and Gorou had asked her excellency for a safe house and she agreed, hiding you and your mother away from prying eyes.

But even then, you weren't immune.

Some of the shoguns more...daring men came into your house and dragged you and your mother far away to their little base, demanding to know your father's whereabouts.

-----

"No." You said firmly at the man, your ears twitching.

He narrowed his eyes and slapped you. "I'm not asking."

You whimpered.

------

Gorou came home, friending at the unfamialr scents. Normally his spouse would tell him if they had company. He then smelled....distress?

He ran around the house, growling as he didn't find either of you. He then decided to embrace his dog side and sniffed one of your clothes to pick up you scent and began to follow it.

Anyone who saw the normally composed man/dog hybrid were very confused when they saw him on all fours with a feral look.

----

He went to the military base, fighting his way through the maze like halls, using your scent as a guide. He then found where you two were kept and jumped down, landing on all four and got up, opening the ropes. He heard the doors open and he growled, his ears and tail puffing in display. He growled loudly, exposing his sharp canines.

He let loose a series of arrows, killing the men in the room.

After checking you weren't hurt, he let you climb onto his back and he carried you piggy back style out of the base, holding his partners waist.

*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Zhongli

Zhongli had made more foe than friend in his lifetime as Morax. He wasn't proud of some of his actions, but he had grown used to the feeling.

When he met his spouse, he was happy to finally find someone who'd didn't care about his god status or the things he done. He treasured them, so when (Name) came into his life, he was delighted.

He hummed as he went home, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. He expected you to come running into his arms and for his spouse to greet him with a warm kiss.

Only those things didn't happen.

"Darling? (Name)?" He asked.

He hummed and saw a note written in a language long forgotten.

"Osial..." He glared. He would try to figure out how he got out later, and it didn't really matter in that moment. Osial would never step out again by the time Zhongli was done with him.

He walked with his spear in hand as he began to track you down.

-----

He arrived in the old Lair of Osial. Of course...Zhongli had spent many a night here in his relative youth. In fact, he and Osial had had a thing for several hundred years, but then he-

Zhongli shook the thought away. "Osial?"

"Ah Zhongli, you made it." Osial grinned.

"Osial...let them go." He demanded gently. He didn't want to fight.

"Oh? The great Morax appears to have a weakness now." Osial grinned, pulling you in front of him with a knife to your throat.

"L-let them go..." Zhongli swallowed thickly.

"Hmm....I don't think I want to." Osial grinned.

You whimpered and looked at Zhongli.

He turned to you. "Close your eyes, darling." He said simply.

---

You heard much banging, clashing, curses, but then they stopped and Baba (Daddy) scooped you into his arms and carried you.

You kept your eyes closed, accidentally falling asleep on the way home.

*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Kaeya

Kaeya hummed softly as he returned home, flowers in one hand and a toy for you in the other.

"I'm home." He called out, looking around. "Babe? Kiddo?" He arched a brow and stepped further in, wondering where you two were.

"Are we playing hide and seek today?" He asked hismelf, amused. It was something that happened occasionally, granted, it was usually just (Name) who played this game.

He searched in all the hiding spots he could think of, and began to get more stressed out when he couldn't find you two. "Babe! (Name)!"

He searched around before seeing footsteps leaving his house that didn't seem familiar. He growled and started to follow them to a ring he was All too familiar with, both as a knight, and it was one of his....sources.

He clenched his sword and searched around, following pure instinct, finding it suspicious how quiet it was.

It wasn until he stepped inside the room you two were in when he got pinned against a wall. He growled and fought against his captors that seemed to be speaking in a language you couldn't understand (Fontaine maybe? Hillichurl? You had no clue).

He was turning to swing his sword at one of the men when suddenly a sword pierced through his torso.

"Kaeya!"/"Dad!" You both cried out.

He fought off the men and held his side tightly. He untied you two with one arm.

"Kaeya..." His spouse fussed.

"I'm fine." He grunted. "I just need to get back..."

Your mother nodded and picked you up, trying to calm you down even though you both were freaking out about Kaeya.

"Daddy?"

"I'm going to be fine." He said, petting your hair with his non-bloody hand. "I'm okay."

You nodded after a second.

He tried to ignore how tired he felt. He couldn't close his eyes...just couldn't...

But if you were two were safe, that's what mattered....

Why did his feet feel light?

When did his vision blur????

When.....

"Kaeya!" Your mother yells being the last thing Kaeya heard before his world faded to black.

*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Diluc

Of course, being a nobile family in Mondstat had left a target on Dilucs head since he had been born, and when his spouse married him, a target in their head, and finally yours when you'd been born.

Diluc did his best to keep you safe, but the abyss was a dangerous enemy, so when he arrived home and found his two favorite people missing, he isntantly found Dainslief who was one of the few people Diluc trusted to help.

----

The two men searched and entered the Abyss heralds lair. He looked up and found you and his spouse in separate cages. He growled and turned to the herald.

The two clashed in a heated battle and Dain went up and got the two of you out.

"Hey baby," your mother whispered. "How about we play the quiet game, hm? See can take the quietest steps and not talk."

You nodded and held their hand, letting them and Dain lead you outside and to the winery.

---

Diluc came home a few hours later and groaned.

"Daddy okay?" You asked.

"Yeah. Just a little sore."

You hugged him and he picked you up. "Now, how about I let you have some of that juice you like?"

*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Albedo

He knew he wasn't always around to pay attention to you two. He still had work to do in Dragonspine and other places around Tevyat.

A part of him feared one day you'd forget all about him and his spouse would leave with you in the night.

So when he came home and found you two missing, his mind assumed his fears came true.

Until he found a note on the kitchen Table written in ancient runes. He growled and got up, his harbinger of dawn glistening.

----

He arrived at the location the runes described and growled at how familar it was. It was where he was born.

He kicked the door open and quickly dispatched the abyss Mages, a dark shadow surrounding him.

"I have no times for your games, master." He said, his voice having a slight reverb to it. His hair moved as if being swayed by a shaking breeze that no one else could feel.

"Congrats, Albedo. Your mission is complete. You have created life from nothing." A familar voice said. A figure dragged you out.

"Daddy...." You whimpered.

"Let them go." Albedo ordered.

"Giving orders now?"

"I do when my child is involved." He glared. "Close your eyes."

You nodded obediently, and next you knew, you and your mother were back in Mondstat.

"Daddy?"

"He'll be along." Your mother promised, not wanting to voice their concerns.

*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Hello Anon! Hope you enjoyed! I tried to add the full gang but I ran out of steam, so maybe one day I'll write something for them but this has been waiting long enough!

As always, feel free to request!