#Hiding in plain sight (OOC)

[daybreakrising]

beisht: i need a human disguise so no one suspects it's me walking around

also beisht: puts the symbol from her dragon form's head in the most obvious place on her outfit

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

[Shout out to every muse that is freaked out by Wesker because he's the most 'human' looking killer.]

[talontedassassin]

I wanna play! I wanna play, wanna play! What's youe favorite game?

Talon likes to stab.

[warsinmyhead]

CLOSED for @midncghts

Hiro wasn't exactly thrilled to be back home for the holidays. He had managed to get out of the last two family holidays because of weather-travel conditions being bad, but this was the year where Korea happened to be warmer than past winters, which meant he was out of excuses to avoid returning to Japan.

In typical fashion once he was on the ground in Japan, he collected his suitcase and mentally prepared himself to call a rideshare or cab to take him home. But he raised a brow in confusion when he started to make his way to the doors and noticed someone standing near them with a sign that had his name on it.

No way was that for him, right...

[poisonofgcd]

i have touched on it on @lunaoritur but lil reminder that i have a tm/nt verse too hehe

[icefell]

......I- don't know where the drafts section is located now. ifjiewfj new dash is confusing.

[freak1ish]

Lupin tag dump. ( Based on various song lyrics and tags I thought up myself )

/ I'm finished making sense / ( Musings/ Ramblings )

/ What if I say I am not like the others / ( Introspection's )

/ The page is out of print / ( Open starters )

/ Done pleading ignorance / ( Answered asks )

/ Same old story / ( Asks )

/ In my reflection I see signs of psychosis / ( Visage )

/ I think I'm dyin' nursing patience/ ( Mannerisms )

/ I am afraid you are out of look / ( OOC )

/ A appreciate for the strange and bizarre / ( Aesthetics )

/ Forever scarred / ( Real face )

/ Think I need a devil to help me get things right / ( Main default verse )

/ I'm the voice inside your head you refuse to hear / ( Sandman/ DC comics verse )

/ This could take all night / ( Supernatural verse )

/ I'm getting tired of starting again / ( Strangers things verse )

/ There is evil inside / Buffy the vampire slayer verse )

/ Hiding in plain sight / ( Marvel verse )

/ What have I become my sweetest friend / ( Dragon age verse )

/ Cracks in the mirror / ( Wednesday verse )

/ I'll change your appearance and heal your wounds for a price / ( Grisha verse )

/ Into the void / ( Queue )

[vamphrrr]

%% tough love

in which the daughter of aphrodite is head over heels for the most ruthless warrior at camp, & all she can do is try to court her while simultaneously killing her.

— clarisse la rue x f!aphrodite!reader

warnings ; idiots in love, ooc clarisse?, pining on both sides, flirty & bold reader, flustered clarisse, tall & muscular clarisse / short reader (reader reaches her chest), fool clarisse (JUST SAY YES!!), bad flirting attempts (i’ve never flirted), a little bad since it’s my first oneshot srry guys

There she was, the most beautiful girl you had ever know. Tall, dark, strong and powerful in all her mighty glory. She was sparring with one of her brother’s, Lucas? you presumed. They’ve been at it for hours, Clarisse beating him almost every single time. But no matter how many times Lucas fell or almost got his head cut off, he would just not give up.

You needed him to leave already.

It was as if the gods heard your prayers, because one second Lucas had Clarisse cornered, and then the next she swung her spear with all her might. A woosh was heard, nearby leaves shaking and falling with how much strength she used. Her brother's weapon went flying, and so did he.

Oh gods, you thought, biting your lip to stop a giggle from escaping. I love women who could destroy me in a heartbeat.

You watched behind a tree as Lucas struggled to get back up, clearly dizzy from the hit he took. He wobbled a bit, and Clarisse realized he could seriously not stand up by himself. She leaned down, one arm on his waist while the other helped put his arm around her shoulder.

Lucas stood up successfully, and you were able to see that he slightly looked over at your direction for a moment. You gasped, quickly moving so that your face was out of sight. If he saw you, he didn’t make a big deal out of it, but oh, Clarisse sure did once he told her.

She immediately stood up straight, pushing her brother back down to the ground and whipping her head around. A thud followed by a groan was heard as she sped walked towards the tree you were hiding behind. Not knowing that she was getting closer, you twisted your body around, about to peek to where you thought she was. Although, that thought seemed to not go as planned.

“Ow!” you said, feeling your nose hit a solid wall. I don’t remember a wall being there.

A familiar huff was heard, causing you to stiffen. Looking up, you made eye contact with Clarisse who had her arms crossed, muscles bulging from the pressure. Sweat was still clinging on to her face, and you saw as a droplet of water ran down her neck.

She made dirt and sweat look beautiful.

“Oh, hey Clarisse!” you exclaimed, eyes turning pink, pupils dilated. “Fancy seeing you here!”

She raised an eyebrow, ears slightly burning when she saw your eyes change color. “Hm, I’m pretty sure you were stalking us. Unless… you were waiting to spar, princess?”

You smiled, twirling a strand of your hair around your manicured finger, watching as Clarisse got a little distracted with that move. Oh how you loved when she called you that.

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a little closer to her. “I just wanted to ask if you were free later today.”

Clarisse wasn’t surprised. Every week you would do the same thing: follow her around like a lovesick puppy, waiting secretly for her to finish whatever she was doing. Someone would notice you and tell her, teasing her about how she held the heart of an Aphrodite girl, to which she glared at. Then she’d turn around to see you standing there, looking like the prettiest flower in a field full of plain boring wheat. She’d walk to you, and as soon as you’d see her, your eyes would turn pink. Which was a very endearing thing that she’d be an idiot to not know what it meant.

“Like I’ve told you countless times,” she began. “I’m busy.”

Which was true. Unfortunately for you —and her—, your timing was gods awful. As the counselor of the Ares cabin, she was expected to lead the new and younger demigods on a weekly camp journey through the wild. That, plus the fact she was in charge of training clumsy kids, did not give her a lot of free time. And it seemed like you always had a knack for asking things at the wrong time.

You looked up at her through your eyelashes, pouting your lips a bit in what you hoped was a cute way. “Awe, I was really hoping to take you out on a date this time. You know, I heard the little lake by the strawberry fields is a really good place to make out.”

Clarisse gulped, leaning her shoulder against the tree, feeling her heart beat faster than normal. Gods, she could not believe you just said that.

These Aphrodite kids are a danger to society.

She cleared her throat lightly and composed herself. “Well that’s a real shame princess. I guess you’re gonna have to find out if that’s true with somebody else.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Don’t kiss anyone else.

You gave her a pretty smile, touching one of her forearms with your fingers, painted nails tracing her scars. “But I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Oh, I really hate you. Clarisse thought.

“A-and like I said,” she breathed out, cursing at herself for stuttering. “I can’t.”

She moved away from your touch, taking a big step back, hating for the first time that she was in charge of all her siblings. She’d get punished if she didn’t do her duties. But, would it really be that bad?

“Ah,” you let out, eyebrows furrowing a bit, immediately being replaced by your eyes brightening. “Well then, maybe next time!”

“I—” Clarisse started, not being able to finish her sentence because you swiftly turned around, walking away. She clenched her fists. If only you stayed for a little more while, she would’ve gave in to your date. Cursing at herself for being a good counselor and taking her duties seriously, she groaned loudly.

You heard her, practically smelling her regret. Smirking to yourself, you laughed, knowing the affect you had on her. Others might have given up, taking her constant “I’m busy” as a sign of rejection, but not you. You’re the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love. You know when someone wants you, you can sense it. And, well, every time you’re with Clarisse, the love and longing that she had for you was strong. You know she feels the same way. It’s just a shame that she’s always so busy.

Oh well, maybe next time.

[airbendertendou]

high ♡ frank morrison

soulmate au where you reincarnate until you meet / stay with your soulmate.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; heavy song mention, you can decide what song it is ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how legion looks is up to you! ; dbd lore could b inaccurate

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

Your surroundings were new ; unfamiliar as your eyes flutter open. You’re on your back, staring at the cloudless sky as the summer heat hits you from every summer. You twist awkwardly, your elbows hitting the ground and lifting you onto your knees as you still, eyeing the area that surrounds you. Heated air smacks against you again — this summer was brutal.

You pause — it was summer, wasn’t it?

“Hey, newbie!” A voice barely below a whisper is targeted at you. Turning, you see a person with a beanie covering turquoise colored hair. They rush your way, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with them to a giant machine. “No time to explain. Just put your hands near this — a generator — and they’ll do the rest. Careful of sparks.”

You do as they say, watching as their body tensed. Finally, she introduced herself quietly when she deemed the coast was clear. You clear your throat, “[Name]. Where are we?”

“Coldwind Farm.” The generator clicks and whirs as Nea pauses, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Really cranked the heat up this time.”

The generator sputters to life, a light clicking on above you and exposing you to everything nearby. Nea cusses under her breath, rising to her feet quickly and rushing away from the loud machinery. You follow after her cluelessly, bumping into her back when she stops abruptly. Nea frowns, “we need to go separate ways now.”

“But—”

“Go fix another generator,” calloused hands fall onto your shoulders. Nea squeezes reassuringly and her face switches to something else — someone else. You blink and she’s back to normal, looking around you both cautiously. “If your heartbeat begins to pick up, get away.”

She’s gone without another word and you find yourself standing there, alone and vulnerable.

Shuffling awkwardly, you hustle along a barn, eyeing the field in front of you warily. Letting out a long breath, you take a chance and sprint into the field. Nea told you to work on generators, but you felt safer out of plain view. Crouching down, you hide your face in your knees and simply sit there.

A scream echoes around you and you flinch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. The field sways from side to side as something  — someone, maybe — drifts through it. Another scream hits — two more beams of light, showing more generators were done.

Nea would be angry when she found out you did nothing to help. But your head was aching, scrambled with new thoughts and images of the past you couldn’t forget. Someone drifts by you again and you make yourself smaller, frown on your lips as you fight a whimper. You were so confused — so lost and tattered as more thoughts piled into your mind.

All too soon, the sound of your heartbeat began to pick up. Deciding to actually listen to Nea’s advice, you pause. No sound of movement is heard over the thumps of your heart — coast is clear. Jumping up from the field, you turn and book it, only to run straight into a body. 

Pink hair is falling out of a hood, knife poised and ready to strike. The faceless mask seemingly stares at you for a minute, their arm falling until the knife clutters from their hand. A sharp intake, and then the sound of your name, muttered softly from behind the mask.

A ground shaking noise is heard, the killer cursing and grabbing at their knife frantically as you make your escape. A blond is ushering people through a giant door, a bulletproof vest over his chest. His stern face drops at the sight of you, eyes widening as he watches you quicken your pace.

“Shit. Nea was right.” He follows behind you, putting his hands on your back as you pause. “Keep goin’, newbie. We’re almost home.”

Home. Home sounded so nice right now. You race into the shining light at the end of the hallway, ignoring your name as it’s called frantically behind you.

——♡——

The campfire in front of you was not home. There are too many names — too many new faces from either side of you. Nea is across the fire from you ; the man from before sat beside you. Leon is looking over you questioningly, blue eyes surveying your trembling hands and wide eyes.

“There’s not a new killer. So, why—”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

Laurie rolls her eyes, continuing as if she wasn’t just interrupted. “It doesn’t make any sense to just get a survivor, that’s all.”

An older man hums, also eyeing you. Despite the warmth of the fire in front of you, a cold chill has seeped into your being. You shiver and let out a breath — you swear you can see it fog up in front of you. “Could be late, the killer. Make us comfortable and off guard, only for a new killer to show up.”

“I,” you lick your lips. The campsite grows silent as they wait for you to speak. “The one before. Who was that?”

“They call themselves Legion.” Leon is the one who lets you know. He tilts his head, “four of ‘em, I think.” His eyes travel across you again, “seemed to know you.”

“What does that mean?” Laurie speaks up again. Her eyes narrow in your direction, focusing on the way you tense up. Her gaze flicks back to Leon, “it’s a little late for their survivor to appear.”

“Called out [name] as we were leaving.” He bites his lip, attention drifting across the fire before it’s back. Leon looks down, but watches you from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to talk to you desperately.” 

You shake your head before he can say anything else. You look to Laurie’s glaring figure then down as you clasp your hands together. “I don’t know anyone with pink hai—”

A giggle echoes in your mind, spiraling in your thoughts. Her face is so clear in your mind — perfectly structured and grinning as she giggles with three others. Just as quick as the thought comes, though, it vanishes.

As if it never happened.

Fog takes over Leon and Laurie, saving you from any further questions. A chill runs through you and you shrink in on yourself, arms wrapping around your torso helplessly. Mindless chatter is scattered around the campfire — it feels warm, safe here, but you miss the sight of home.

Nea plops down beside you with a huff, new fingerless gloves covering her hands. She tugs them farther up her wrist at your gaze, clenching her hands together as she tries to get used to them. “A gift. You get one if you perform well ; if you’re entertaining enough.”

“Newbie!” is called from across the campfire. The man has a heavy accent as he speaks, an arrogant grin on his face as he waves. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

That’s something you do remember Leon mentioning — the loss of memories. The longer you stayed, the foggier and more distant they became. You dreaded the day that would happen — your mind was scrambled enough.

You hum, picking at your nails nervously. Everyone’s attention is on you again — anxiety crawls up your throat. “A song. I was listening to music.”

A girl with golden hair grins, looking up from the guitar she's tuning. "What kind? I could try playing it for you."

Nodding, your eyes squint as you think of the song you remember hearing. It was so engrained in your mind — so planted into your memories that it was the one thing you could never forget. As you begin to hum quietly, Quentin perks up from across the fire. He lifts an eyebrow, "old school, huh?"

Kate nods along to the silent beat, trying her best to mimic the sound you make. She pauses, ear turned towards you as she continues. You stop abruptly and her eyes snap open. "That's all I remember."

"No words?" Nancy tilts her head.

You shrug, the corner of your mouth tilting up helplessly. "No words." Not yet, at least.

——♡——

Ghostface was your favorite killer. Which would sound strange in different circumstances — but dying daily, hourly, you were bound to get used to it eventually. He liked the chase — liked to skip and giggle and sing as he sauntered after you.

That's why you don't mind playing bait for him. He liked new survivors — only here for a few weeks [that you tried to keep up with] meant you still had newbie status. Currently, a game of hide and seek was occuring — you peeked from the side of a building when Ghostafce wasn't looking, and he'd lift up from behind the bush as he chose to giggle at you.

It made you smile — the way you could act silly in the middle of a murder spree.

Springwood always welcomed you at midnight, the moon and hazed streetlights your only source of light. As you tip-toe — Ghostie was on your trail, of course — the air swoops through. It sends a chill through you — like you're back in the snowy mountains of... somewhere.

A slam to your head sends you sprawling on the ground. Ghostface stops, his knife poised as you blink deliriously. Feng grimaces, "oops."

When your eyes blink open, you're staring at a mountain view. The tops are saturated with snow, hued a light blue and white. The door creaks open, a disgruntled figure coming into view. Their nose is scrunched as a steaming mug is headed your way.

"Here's your stupid hot cocoa."

"How stupid can it be when you have a cup, too?" You find yourself asking. Like this conversation was memorized — like this had all happened before. Your hands curl around the mug, cozying up in the bed you know isn't yours. "Why are you so grumpy today anyways?"

"Julie," they grumble. They huff, sitting beside you, as close as they could without causing a blush to form. "Won't leave me alone about new songs or her guitar or you."

Me? you want to say. But, you remember the answer you always got. 'She's sure we're soulmates — me and her. Doesn't want any of us to get hurt.'

Sweet and selfish — yeah, that was Julie.

You set your drink on the nightstand closest to you, warmed hands falling on their own. "Frank—"

Frank, your Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank. You remembered his name now — you wouldn't forget it again.

He sighs, laying his head on your shoulder. "It's me and you, I know it. It has to be."

"What if Julie's right, though?" You wrap your arm around his shoulers — you always liked being close to him, touching in the smallest bit when you could. "About us not being soulmates? We could have someone else out there."

"I don't want anyone but you."

A distraction. Frank always needed a distraction of some sort or else he'd get mad. When Frank got mad, he exploded. Something he was wokring on — something you helped him with. You jiggle your shoulder until he sits up. "Play me something."

His light beige acoustic guitar stands against the wall. Julie's lilac one is set on his desk, half of the strings missing. Another thing that points them at being perfect together — another thing that separates you. Frank sighs, his eyes pointing to the ceiling in annoyance. [He's too giddy to play for you, wanting your praise and your eyes on him only.]

Clearing his throat, Frank adjusts himself comfortably. You grab your mug, sipping on the chocolate now that it'd cooled down. His eyes narrow, “you tell anyone I sung this for you—”

“I won’t, promise!” You say it through laughter, but keep your promise regardless. The guitar strums and Franks hushed, soft voice drifts into the room. You sway in your seat, your eyes closing in comfort.

When they snap open, Ghostface is staring down at you once more. He tilts his head and you let out a gasp. "Words. I remember words."

As quickly as you can, you have Kate play the melody once more. You sing along as best as you can, the memories clearer than ever. Quentin yawns as he bops his head, the words leaving his mouth in mumbles. Leon hums your song as he works on generators, Meg speaking the words as she gets chased.

Soon, the entire camp is singing a song only you remember. And then Ghostface sings it one night while at the killer's camp.

His back is slammed into a tree, a smaller body pining him there. He raises his hands in innocence. A knife is held to his throat, "where did you hear that?"

He can't even squeak out your name before she's pulled off of him. Pink hair falls from a hood as Susie holds her friend back. Whispers of I told you! echo around the woods before they go silent.

Julie lets out a sigh, "let's hope Frank doesn't find out about this."

——♡——

The air is cold as the fog releases you from its grasp. You wish you had a thicker coat, wish you could sip on that stupid hot cocoa you keep thinking of. Quinten nods as he passes you, almost slipping from the icy ground. Your breath surrounds you in a fog as you tip-toe to a generator further away.

Steve kneels beside you to rewire the generator, huffing as his body wracks through a shiver. "Hate this place."

"I like it," you say absentmindedly. It was cold, of course, but something about the lodge in the distance seemed welcoming — familiar. Your mouth lifts into a smile, "could be cozy up there."

He snorts, "and be in the mercy of whatever Legion member is lurking? Be my guest."

Somehow, that's exactly where you find yourself. Crunching through the snow, you stare up at the barren walls. There should be paper there — pieces of ripped and weathered signs that scream missing on every inch. Signs that you stared at until your skin wrinkled and you forgot them again.

The fireplace crackles as you walk through the front door. Warmth should cover you, should comfort you, but the feeling of loss and dread crawls up your throat like nausea. You gulp — Steve was right, I shouldn't be here.

Yun-jin screams outside — she sounds close, but your feet are glued to the floor. Hurried steps crunch under the window closest to you — you only stare. Looking back is a picture of four people — five when you wipe away the dust. Staring back is a picture of you.

You don't acknowledge the tears that cloud up your eyes when the door creaks open. Heavy, booted feet inch closer to you achingly slow, your heartbeat picking up in fear. Quentin yells your name from the window and the footsteps pause.

Your body is jerked around, teary eyes facing your supposed killer of the day. The mask makes you jolt, the tattoos peeking through causing your tears to turn into sobs. The knife shakes in his hands before it falls to the floor, useless. His mask is ripped from his face, heaving breaths the only thing in the room.

As the world goes dark, your sobs grow louder.

Your head is in someone's lap as you slowly regain consciousness. You feel like you're floating — like the game you've been forced to play has been put on pause. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frank peering down at you. His eyes are rimmed red, a teardrop falling from the tip of his nose and to your cheek.

He lets out a shaky sigh, "I never wanted you to be here."

You swallow, your chest suddenly tight and your throat dry. "I thought of you," you say. Frank's chest heaves with a sob he doesn't allow to escape. "Every day. Every decade. You were the face I would dream of, but couldn't name."

Frank almost cradles you to his chest as he cries. You rub his back as well as you can, shushing him as he hiccups. When he releases you, he helps you sit up slowly. Finally face to face with him, all thoughts leave your mind. Your hand raises absentmindedly, tracing the scar you once memorized.

Frank lets out another sigh, trembling as you stare at him. "You shouldn't be here. You're too good for a place like this."

"Where are we, anyways?" Your eyebrows furrow as you take in your surroundings. Like the lodge, it's warm and familiar. You grow even more confused. "Your room? Why?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. You're gathered back into his hold, one hand settled between your shoulder blades. "Don't care."

The room around you seems to rumble at his words. You wince, meeting his eyes with a small grin. "Don't think we have long, Frank."

His shoulders sag at the sound of you saying his name. Laying his forehead on your shoulder, he takes in a deep breath. "I knew it — knew Julie was wrong. We are soulmates — we have to be."

You pull away from him briefly, lips pursed in thought. "And now you have to kill me."

"No." Frank is adament —sure in his statement. "Not you. Not ever."

The room rumbles again and you grin. "Guess she knows that, too."

——♡——

idk how satisfied i am w this one but after sitting in my drafts half done for a year, it’s finished !!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[warsinmyhead]

The Graphic Design student weaved his way through other students leaving the dormitory and others headed back to their rooms. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and hung a left to the wing where his room was.

He fished out his keys from his pocket and paused when he smelled something being cooked. He raised a brow in confusion and moved away from the door. Wait, someone was cooking in his room now?

Hiro inserted the key into the lock and unlocked the door, slowly pushing it open to see a young man hovering over a skillet, which contained dumplings inside.

When the other guy greeted him, Hiro felt his bag sliding off his shoulder and he caught it so his laptop wouldn't hit the ground. So this was the roommate the lady at Housing was talking about.

"Hello, I um, I guess you're my new roommate?" Hiro asked as he stepped to the side and with his free hand, allowed the door to the dorm room to close gently. Once the door closed, he raised the free hand in greeting and introduced himself. "I'm Park Hiro, third year Graphic Design student. I'm sorry, the Housing manager didn't tell me your name or major – she said you were looking for a room and that she thought you were a first year."

Haneul was in his first year of university, been struggling to find a place when the housing office called saying a bed was open, it had been overlooked and they apologized for the wait. He skipped his morning classes to move. With the help of his uncle Haneul moved the boxes that had been packed for weeks, just waiting and whatever else he could fit inside the van. The left side of the room was empty, just bare furniture waiting for him. But soon it was covered in his belongings. Bed made, which he had used the underside to put a small area to chill, black, gray, and blue were the main color palette of his belongings. Haneul busied himself, moving his things around in the space provided. He had even brought a few small appliances, more than willing to share. His room was two years older and from the others side of the room he was artistic. Haneul hadn't paid attention to the details of his roommate. He was excited to have a room away from his aunt and uncles house. Haneul had moved the small stack of appliances to the what he assumed was their kitchen area. A box of food next to the fridge. Where to put them all? He wanted to keep them where his roommate could use them, sharing was what roommates did right? He shared with his friends, roommates could be friends. Haneul than spent the rest of his free time moving the boxes back and forth, trying to put his food away without taking more than half the space provided. Haneul gave up, set up the electric skillet and made himself whatever dumplings wouldn't fit on his half of the fridge. So that is hat Haneul was doing when the door opened, the room a mess, him squatted on the floor in front of an electric skillet sitting on a small table. Haneul froze, head turning, dumpling halfway to his mouth.

"Hello?"

[obscenely-overdue]

[OOC] Weighted Pregnant Belly Instructions

Hi everyone! For those interested, I've jerry-rigged a method to pad/simulate/wear-a-fake-pregnant-tummy-for-kink-purposes with some real weight and firmness to it that I think people would like! It works very well for me but is also functionally a prototype/first pass at the idea, so there are certainly areas that it could be improved. (which is me saying "experiment and improve upon this, we can make it better!")

I'll preface this with the fact that, if you pay full price for everything involved, assuming you have NONE of it to start, it's probably about $120. That said, about $20-25 of that comes from a specific kind of pillow and blanket, which you very well may have, which would bring it realistically down to $100, and some of it is stuff which can be bought on sale pretty easily, which would land you in the neighborhood of $80. Again, it isn't cheap, but it has something not even a fancy Roanyer tummy has:

WEIGHT and BULK

It's also made of inconspicuous or otherwise easily hidden items, so if you have roommates or family who could see this stuff, it's great at being tucked away or hiding in plain sight. If you're curious, I have pictures, a shopping list, and step by step instructions, as well as some further tips and info. It's pretty long so I'm putting it under a cut...

Let's get started!

What you'll need:

One piece of fully body shapewear (the mauve one on top) and one piece of "tummy tuck" shapewear (black on the bottom). The full body one is about 2 sizes too big for what it's meant to do normally (so for me, an XXXL. This is the same shapewear I use for my squishmallow tummy for RP blog pictures), and the tummy tuck one is the "correct" size for my body (XL). The tummy tuck one gives you all the support, so you don't want it too oversized. DON'T GO UNDERSIZED EITHER as what we're going to load this up with is gonna cause some compression, and too much pressure on your abdomen can be harmful. When in doubt, go at your size or maybe one size bigger, but no farther. Both of these run $20-30 a piece at a target but also can be found on sale for $10-20. Target is going to charge you more than Walmart, and it doesn't have to be top of the line.

One soft, round pillow. This is like a $6 pick up from Walmart. It's not just soft from it's fabric, but it's specifically not firm to the touch. It's all give and is very malleable. Technically you could use a regular pillow too, but this being roughly disk shaped helps it do its job as basically the "lower belly" that keeps the weight from shifting too low.

An averaged sized blanket. Softer materials that fold and bunch up easier are preferred. You PROBABLY already have something that will work for this, but if you don't, again, Walmart will charge you like $15-20 for one.

And finally...

A 20 lbs kettlebell. This BASTARD is the single most expensive thing you'll need, and unfortunately is required if you want it to be properly heavy. This one came from Target, and ran me $55. You might think you want to go heavier, but trust me, this thing has all the heft you'll need. If you really want to, you could feasibly go for a 25 lbs. one, but those are even more expensive. The kettlebell shape is important because it's mostly round, unlike a dumbbell, so we can wrap it up and use it for a reasonably pregnant-shaped belly. A dumbbell of this weight might be a little cheaper, but if you're already going to drop $40 on an oddly shaped weight, another $15 so it can fit the tummy shape is worth it.

Putting it on:

[DISCLAIMER: If at any point something HURTS while putting this thing on or while wearing it, safely but quickly remove it. The weight is supposed to be cumbersome and a little uncomfortable for the fantasy of it, but if anything HURTS, something is wrong, and you need to take it off. If you lay on your back with this thing on for too long, get ready for ab muscle aches, possibly the next day, as your tummy will be supporting 20 lbs of external weight just pressing on it, and those muscles don't get used unless you work out. I've never worn this thing overnight to sleep, but I don't advise it, as extended period of compression can be harmful. Same logic as to why AFAB people who don't want visible boobs shouldn't bind for too long.]

Start by putting on the fully body shapewear, and then putting the tummy tuck shapewear over that. The fabric under my shapewear here is my sports bra, which isn't part of the belly process.

Next you're going to load the soft, round pillow into the full body shapewear. It's going to kind of fold in on itself and that's not an issue, if anything it gives a nice little landing zone for the next thing we're going to add.

Don't fight trying to get the pillow under the tummy tuck shapewear, right now just roll it down to your waistline under the pillow bulk like so.

Next you'll take your blanket, lay it out, set the kettlebell inside of it, and wrap/bunch it up. You want it something approximating 'round', making sure the kettlebell isn't going to roll/fall out when you pick it up.

Next, you load the wrapped up bastard in, setting it on top of the pillow. The kettlebell is going to shift, and try to sink deeper, that's fine, just maneuver it so it sits on the pillow, allowing the pillow to spread the weight more evenly.

Before you pull up the tummy tuck shapewear, it's going to look like this, notice how the bottom of it is lighter because that's all pillow, with the blanket over top.

Now comes of trickiest/most strenuous part, you gotta pull out the tummy tuck shapewear and get it out and around the bulk of your "tummy". You'll have an easier time if you pull the back part up a little first, so it's not fighting you, which you can see in the above photos. If anything starts to hurt during this process, stop and take it out, because likely something is too tight or too heavy.

Once the tummy tuck shapewear is pulled all the way up, it should look about like this, and you're loaded up and ready to waddle!

Notice how much more contained it all is? It's not spilling off of me anymore, it's firmly held against me. Now, just top with your favorite maternity shirt!

Or don't!

Now, clearly, it doesn't LOOK very pregnant. It's lumpy and awkward and it'll come out downright lopsided your first few times. But this isn't for taking pictures for an RP blog, this is for simulating something close to the feeling of carrying something heavy like a pregnant belly around. For those of us who can't or don't want to actually get pregnant, this is a decent approximate that's reasonable to buy and easily hidden. This is for nights after everyone else is in bed or you're home alone, and it can be a LOT of fun.

Great, now what do I do with it?

This is the end of the instructions and is more just ideas for some fantasy fulfillment. Feel free to drop your own ideas in replies or reblogs!

So something that sets this belly apart from just a pillow, or bunched up clothes under your shirt, is that it's very firm, and independently held against you. A pillow under your shirt is dependent on the shirt for structure. If you lift the shirt, pillow falls off. That is not the case here, so suddenly, you've unlocked the ability to put on too small clothes, or button ups, or robes, whatever, that's too small for you now, and can fuss and mess with it without affecting the stability of the belly. You can wear pants that don't button or simply bunch up under that heavy, firm underbelly. Hell, you can simulate getting dressed with a 20 lbs mass hanging off of you. Put on socks around this thing, it's the stuff of preg kink dreams!

Getting up and down, laying in bed and rolling over, the shit that's easy to do now, takes a LOT more effort all of the sudden. Again, I urge you not to lay flat on your back too much, because I did that while padding before bed, and woke up with some muscle aches centered on my tummy, in muscles that I hadn't used in god knows how long. Don't over exert yourself with this thing. I'm bringing this up a lot because I don't want anyone getting hurt.

Taking the stairs is nuts. Going up is way more effort, and going down feels almost hazardous as you wont have vision of your feet anymore.

If you're into the domesticity of pregnancy, try doing some household chores with this thing on! Loading a dishwasher, doing some laundry, maybe some tidying. I personally have found it weirdly exhilarating, waddling around loading the washing machine around this heavy bulk. Have fun bending over to pick up something you dropped!

Even just chilling and gaming with a lap full of heavy belly feels kind of new and exciting. When you're not used to it, even the mundane shit gets hotter with a tummy like this

That's about all I got. If someone else gets everything and tries this out, let me know your experiences with it and how you've improved it! I've had an ask suggest a weighted medicine ball, so that could also work if you have one you're willing to test out. Please enjoy, and share with your pregnancy loving mutuals! Thanks for reading!!!

[lorebite]

             𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒

             𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: six years ago, in the harrowing outbreak that swallowed Raccoon City, you were a young promising scientist who happened to stand on the wrong side of history as it unraveled. But alas, fate brought you to Leon Kennedy who was just as terrified as you amidst the horrors that took place. Today, you find yourself in a similar position, bound by the conditions of your environment and in dire need of help. It just so happens that Leon is there to share it with you again. But the thing is - you're supposed to be dead.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ minors dni. cursing. fem reader. a bit of slowburn in the beginning. explicit sexual material: cunnilingus, handjob, cum eating and finger sucking, a bit of hair pulling, desperate touch starved subby Leon cos 😩. slight angst; mentions of reader being infected and nearly dying in the past. mentions of a previous sexual relationship between Leon and reader. pet names used: honey, sweetheart, big boy (just once cos I couldn't fucking resist). probably very ooc for Leon. beware, this is the result of my brainrot for this man so I got super carried away with the descriptions!

Your temples pulsated with every throbbing heartbeat, whipping pain striking through your skull as pressure culminated behind your eyes. Everything hurt. Your body felt like a slaughter on a hook, weighted and burdened, swaying heavily against the gravity. 

You listlessly opened your eyes, fingers twisting rigidly as you drank in your surroundings though not much you could see through the fog blanketing your mind. You heaved a grunt and willed yourself to move, the soles of your feet skidding along the ground. 

The room swam before your vision; the memories of hours past a vague impression lurking in the back of your mind as you struggled to recall them. It was impossible to tell how long you’ve been out but a small glance down at yourself told you that your captors hadn’t been so generous with your belongings; your sole pistol absent from its usual place in your holster. 

In a feat of panic, you shifted your boot to feel for the combat knife hiding just inside and when you felt its bulge press into your skin, you breathed a sigh of relief. Though that solace was short lived when you became aware of the presence in the room.

There was movement behind you. Your arms twitched unwittingly in their restraints, tugging you higher on your toes. You spun to face its source, wide eyed and alarmed, assuming the plain worst of it. You expected to see the unwelcoming blade of a Ganado invading your face but the sight of the man before you made the breath hitch in your chest. 

Leon. Oh, Leon. It had been so long. You recognized him instantly despite the many years of change to his physic. His once vibrant eyes were fixated in a glare; his silken hair danced like threads of ribbon around his face and his large arms flexed as he fought with the chains that bound him to you. You couldn’t believe it. It was really truly him. 

Fate was a twisted game bringing you back to him after so many years, forcing you to face the one thing you feared the most. Not the near collapse into nothingness of that vicious outbreak; and not the ceaseless hours of quarantine you spent in that wretched facility, the unabating dread of falling through the claws of inhumanity – now that you were here, almost neither could amount to this moment. 

“The chains don’t break like that, you know.” Your voice came much more hoarsely than you had anticipated, your throat constricting dryly. “You’re only gonna hurt us both.”

Leon merely spared a narrow-eyed stare over his shoulder before he yanked intentionally harder at the restraints, his muscles rippling from the pressure. You reeled on your toes, wrists tugging painfully against the rust. You laughed through a grimace.

“Cheap shot, Leon. Not all of us are made like you.” 

“That’s rich coming from someone who should be dead.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re happy to see me.”

Another feat of laughter tore through your teeth before it quickly waned into a sharp gasp as he hurled you forward again, making you nearly collide with his broad chest.

“Christ. Easy with that.” You winced, skin protesting under the harsh assault of iron.

“Didn’t think to let me know you haven’t kicked the bucket, yet?”

You grinned. “I didn’t know you cared so much.” His eyes narrowed into slits, brows drawn in a deep frown; evident signs that he didn’t particularly enjoy your unnervingly carefree attitude. “Oh, wait—of course, you do. I was welcomed very warmly by your little friends. They seemed to have a harder time letting go.” 

Leon’s lips fell agape though he quickly collected himself. The miniscule reaction; however, didn’t slip from your attention. You scoffed a laugh in realization. 

“Let me guess. They didn’t tell you, did they?”

He opened his mouth to speak but his eyes quickly trailed away from your face. They pinned to an indefinite point over your head, briefly widening with alarm before he forced himself past you, making you lurch to the ground shoulder first.

A strained groan rumbled in your throat as you struggled to shift to your side. Your eyes shot to the villager slinking into the room with an axe reared for assault and they broadened in panic. Leon – as he pulled down more urgently on the iron chains – kicked at his chest and sent him staggering back. Though it didn’t take long for him to recover and come rushing back towards you growling.

You stumbled back to your feet as Leon freed your shared link from the ceiling, circling the space and seizing the unoccupied corner behind the Ganado where he swung his arm blindly, neck now wrung within the chains. 

“Good thinking,” you praised breathlessly, letting a crooked smile to your lips. 

Leon hardly acknowledged the sentiment, his eyes only momentarily flickering to yours through the flailing axe and gurgling stood in between you. 

Soon, the villager has gone limp on his feet, neck twisting with a sickening sound before his lifeless body thudded the ground unceremoniously. Your gaze shifted from Leon to the shy glint of a key on the floor. You leapt for it immediately, wasting no more time to free yourself. 

Leon loomed with a scowl. His large build set your blood alight, making you almost cower back. But you brandished your pocket knife from your boot and held it up threateningly, making the man stop dead in his tracks. 

“Don’t you dare, Leon.” You warned, voice low and smooth.  

“Good to see you grew some backbone after all this time.” The chains rattled as he raised his fists to point at your extended arm. “You really think I can’t take you with that?”

You gave him a sharp look, lips pulled into a rogue smile. Waving the key tauntingly by your head, you said, “you’re free to have a go but I won’t promise to hold back.”

He lunged at you like a loose cannon, his frame crowding your vision before you hurried a few steps back. A grin spread across your face when the twisted chains curbed his attack, keeping him a safe distance back and away from you. 

“What are you up to, (Y/N)?” He growled, eyes ablaze. 

“I’m only here looking for someone. Nothing for you to worry about.” You cocked your head, your gaze lining the jagged ceiling as if pondering an unspoken suggestion. “Unless you happen to have seen a certain Spanish chatterbox.” Leon stared quietly; his dirty look ever fixed on your face when you returned your eyes to him. “Long hair. Cheeky smile. Can’t miss him.”

“Should I be worried about him?”

You very well understood his attempt at trying to gouge more information out of you. With the key still in your grasp, he had to play his cards right if he didn’t want to be left here stranded at the mercy of the torches and pitchforks waiting just outside the door.

You smiled. “He’s been a little naughty recently so who knows?”

“What are you really doing here?” He asked again, forcing a step in your space. You remained rooted to your spot, knife still held in front of you but that ceased to deter him anymore. “I see you – alive – after all these years and you’re not even gonna tell me how you made it out?”

You grew suddenly solemn, the spirit slipping from your gaze. The memories came rushing back to take hold of your mind; the endless agony, the burning stench of blood, the crippling terror of loss. You began to tremble as you sank into their unwelcoming familiarity. 

Your lips flickered wordlessly. You wanted to tell him about everything you did and not. You had shared the horrors of Raccoon City together, stood shoulder to shoulder on the same bloody streets and fought as one. But what happened after that – you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. It was all too much. Too damn much. But he deserved this much, at least. You knew that.

“You want to know how I didn’t die? Well, I was supposed to. My heart stopped after… after you shot me. But as it turned out, the virus had already taken root and it revived me soon after I passed out. Then I got the vaccine before I turned.” You pulled up the hem of your sweater to reveal the old gunshot scar on your stomach. “I still have this to remind me of it.” 

Talking about it made everything real again; how your body gripped with pain as the bullet pierced your flesh, Leon’s misty eyes, his fingers trembling around his pistol – they all began racing through your head. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Leon—” You released a sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “You need to stop sticking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you.”

“I will report you. Pretty sure they’re still looking for you out there.” You glared at him but his face remained unchanged. He wasn’t being vexatious, the seriousness in his tone cutting enough to ring honest. “And I will make sure you’re back where you belong this time.”   

“I’d be stupid to believe that,” you objected calmly. “Six years ago – you’d rather have killed me than put me in government custody.” A sly smirk curled the corner of your mouth. “That was the most selfish thing you’ve done, wasn’t it?”

Leon swallowed, refusing to speak anymore. His gaze wavered from yours for the first time, falling to his bound, tightly curled fists. You slowly walked back towards him, your knife still out. The steel glinted dangerously in the lone source of light in the room, catching his eyes as it drew closer and closer. But he made no attempt to stop you. 

You touched the tip of the blade to his chin and lifted his face, making his gaze cross yours again. “Or was it what we did before that – right. Yeah. That was the most selfish thing you did for yourself. When I said I wanted you—”

“(Y/N),” he interrupted hoarsely, tone deep and urgent.

“—you couldn’t resist it,” you continued, ignoring the sharp erratic breaths rattling in his chest. “You wanted me just as bad. So, don’t try to convince me it’s any different now. Cos I won’t believe it even for a second.”

You couldn’t remember much of the time you spent in quarantine but you remembered, most especially, all that happened before it. The short few hours that Leon had also been there to witness the effects of the infection slowly consume you. The faded mental images began churning in your head and flood your body with heat.

He remained silent. Wet lips fallen slack, his gaze shifted coyly from your eyes to your mouth. The memories seemed to have made a shameless resurgence in his mind as well if that sweet blush on his cheeks was any telling. 

Leon was thinking about you again – fantasizing. Just like he did on that night when your skin was hot as burning coal against his; when his name had become a litany on your lips under the flickering ceiling lights and the heft of the city falling apart over your heads. Right before he took you deeply believing it was going to be his first and final time. 

Little did he know what the future had in store for him.

“What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue, big boy?”

When his eyes met yours in response, they were soft and lidded. His lip rolled back between his teeth, his head dipped to press closer against your knife almost as if leaning into a lover’s caress. 

“Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart. I dare you.” You challenged him again, knowing very well of his one vice – his one true weakness that was you. 

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He confessed at last. 

You lowered the hand bearing the knife to hold his face instead, your thumb sitting on his lip. Leon’s eyes grew round as if he didn’t expect this gentleness from you. But quickly, he melted into your touch with a content sigh, his lips pressing a kiss to the pad of your digit.

“I missed you so much.” He muttered. “God—you have no idea.”

A delicate smile ghosted over your face as you threaded your fingers through his soft hair. He closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth of your touch and the pleasant tug on his roots. He gave a grunt when your grip tightened and his eyes shot open again, peering into yours much more heatedly.

The gap between you was so small now; Leon’s breaths fanning over your lips, quivering and uneven in rhythm. His fists were trapped between your bodies, his fingers just brushing shyly over the collar of your sweater. You could tell he was aching to close that remaining distance. His lips, his body, his everything pleaded for you. Years of repressed need begging to be released.

You held the back of his neck and pulled his face in, your lips finding his to unravel a soft moan from him. It was so sweet how he immediately softened within your embrace, his shoulders sinking under the weight of your arms as you twisted them around him. This gorgeous stoic man who abandoned his resolve only for you. It made your heart swell with adoration.

Leon’s gloves squeaked as his fists tightened against your chest, fingers longing to rove your skin freely but they remained twitching aimlessly above the shackles. Though, at last, they hooked onto your collar in covert desperation and tugged you as close as he could to himself, a soft groan vibrating in the back of his throat.

A smile pulled at your lips as you slipped from his mouth to map out the length of his neck, kisses warm and wet against his skin. He moaned shakily, his head lolling back as your teeth took to him greedily, marking the delicate territory. Your palm enveloped the growing firmness over his pants and he gasped, his body already beginning to quiver. 

“Fuck—honey.” He whimpered, breath sharp and trembling. “Please touch me. I need you so bad.”

You hummed your acknowledgement, carefully starting to finger the top of his pants, one by one undoing the straps and buckles in the way. Leon’s breath hitched with anticipation, his head tilting down to watch your hand slowly unveil him. A breathless moan ripped through his parted lips when your fingers slipped inside and cupped around him.

“Shhh,” you urged with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the ridge of his clenched jaw. 

A low piercing noise quavered on his lips before he hooked them between his teeth in an attempt to quiet himself, his fists tightening even more against your shoulder. 

His desperation amused you. The way he writhed ever so slightly and leaned his head back against the hand gripping his neck. He moaned at every brush of your skin upon his, twitching and throbbing within your grasp. He was already leaking through your fingers; you could hear the muffled slick noises as you stroked him. The delicious sounds on his tongue were an ember kindling into a flame in your core.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” You growled under his ear. “I missed when you were mine.”

“I’ve always been yours. Every inch of me. So, please… please use me like you’ve always had me.” 

He was getting so close. His moans had risen; shrill and breathless, they fell in succession from his lips as pleasure built to a peak inside him. Your mouth continued to caress and wander his neck, your tongue soothing the raw, blossoming purples across his skin where your teeth had sunken into just moments ago.  

His fingers dug into your shoulder, the chains clinking with urgency and pressing painfully into your skin. A sharp gasp tore through his lips when you sucked his soft earlobe between your teeth. 

“Kiss me.” He ordered, breath labored. You were quick to satisfy the request. 

Your lips were firm upon his once they were back. Much less forgiving. Leon whimpered into your bruising kisses, hardly able to return the same passion as yours as he sped towards his orgasm. All he managed were his moans – rising louder and louder in pitch – that muffled against your mouth, the noises loud enough to reverberate in the room.

He let his head back and mewled freely into the balmy air – that was when he spilled himself in your hand, his warm cum gushing through your fingers as you continued to stroke him. He began to whine and push at your hand until you finally stopped, letting the man catch his breath.

“Look what a mess you made.” You drew your hand out of his pants, twisting your glistening fingers before his eyes. Leon swallowed thickly, his gaze following the deliberate movement before it found the mischievous smile on your lips. “I can’t just go out there like this, can I?”

No more needed to be said for Leon to take your fingers into his mouth, his tongue making quick to lap up his own spill eagerly. He sucked showily, sliding his lips farther up your digits until they were full and drool began dripping down his chin. 

You hummed, delighted. “That’s better.” Then you pulled your fingers free.

Your thumb brushed over the corner of his mouth as you eyed his face. He was your Leon again; the same doe eyed and sweetly mannered boy you’ve come to find a place for in your heart. He pressed deeper into your caress as your palm sat on the side of his face, chasing the touch of your hand like a purring kitten.  

Leon watched you, awaiting the next course of action; his charmingly round eyes searched your face, seeking the demands from your lips. You pushed down on his shackles and urged him to his knees. He sunk to the ground without objection, his head immediately tilting back to hold your gaze.

“Are you gonna let me taste you?” He sounded hopeful, his eyes flickering down to your hand where it sat idly against your hip.

Leon would hold your thighs if he could; bury his face in their familiar softness. He would pull you to his mouth and sip out of that grail between your legs and only leave it once he was fully quenched. But his hands only allowed him to tug at your belt, offering you the mere suggestion of it and hoping you would be generous enough to let him.

You were surely teasing him with your prolonged silence. A ghost of a smile on your lips. The harsh, thorny bubble of existence that was this village lain hidden behind a veil of nonchalance where seconds hurried by while you pondered the seemingly obvious decision to let him have you for a time.

But at last, you allowed it, unbuttoning your pants and pushing the fabric down enough to reveal your dripping sex. Leon wet his lip, eyes bearing a look of urgency as he peered up at you that made you chuckle. So eager to please. You buried your fingers in his hair and pushed him gently forward – enough a clue for the man to press his mouth to your swollen clit.

You reined in the first heated moans though your body hardly managed to contain itself. Your hips jerked and pushed into his face, fingers coiling firmly in his soft locks. He growled into your wet heat, the noise churning deep within you, stoking the fury of desire. 

Leon dearly missed swallowing your warmth down his throat, claiming that lovely pinpoint of pleasure upon his tongue. Each mouthful made the recollection of that darling flavor leap forth in his mind, rendering more and more haste into his movements to coax you over the breaking point and receive it once more. To feel it smear all over his face again in all its sweetness. 

Please, please, please – he began to plead against you. Pride downed long ago. Indifference a distant, faded thought. He yearned for all you were willing to offer. Now that he knew where you’ve been all this time, the pang of neglect struck in his chest. He needed you to fill the gaping mouth of hunger that reared its ugly head and snapped its teeth.

“Cum on my face, honey.” His resolution was nothing more than a speck of an existence now, long given way for a startling openness he never knew he was capable of. But if anything, the shaking legs of vulnerability only further eroded his inhibition. “I need to taste you. I need to remember.”

A shrill gasp slipped past your lips as the lashing heat of pleasure turned sharp and persistent. Your nails grazed Leon’s head, digging in without mercy; your legs trembled as did your shallow breaths, heart pattering like a fluttering hummingbird. 

Arousal ascended into crescendo, filling your mind with a blinding cloud until you came apart with one final cry, drowning out Leon’s fervent moans following you beyond the line. 

The black slowly cleared from your vision, the sight of the dully lit room seizing your vision once more as you came down from your high, bated breaths growing calmer.

You looked down at Leon, his hair still clutched between your fingers. You loosened your grip and he leaned back to meet your gaze with a small, timid quirk of his lips, eyes dazed as if he’d spent the climax through you. 

His face glistened with the aftermath of your orgasm; kiss-swollen lips wet and panting, face flushed red. You skimmed your thumb over his cheek and he closed his eyes again. The chains sounding as he raised both hands to hold onto yours, pressing a chaste kiss to the heel of your palm.     

Your gaze moved over your shoulder at the torn dark fabric hiding the entrance. Its frayed edges had picked up in a slow wind; and soon, a cold waft flitted inside and the smell of damp earth pinched your nose. It was long overdue for you to go.

You pulled away from Leon, raising the key you were still holding onto by the side of your head. His frown – that new quirk that seemed to be a permanent feature of his face – slowly returned to pull at his brows again. He caught the object midair when you tossed it at him.

“Listen, I won’t cause any problems if you don’t. Deal?”

Your cold, biting tone was back. That calculated attitude Leon knew could only belong to you. Threads of panic began weaving around his heart again, remembering how the events of six years ago unfolded on that very cursed night; when he agreed – after your ceaseless begging – to put you out of your misery before you turned.

“So, that’s it – you’re gonna disappear after all that? Again?”

A dejected smile twisted your lips. “It’s nothing personal, Leon. Things have changed. We’re just – we’re not those people anymore.” You sighed, eyes downcast. “My hopes are bigger than just my own life now. And since you’re here, too – I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Leon refused to look at you as he unlocked his shackles. Almost as if he didn’t want to have this conversation with you. But you knew he had to agree. As painful as it was. Perhaps in a perfect world, you would be sitting in a cell waiting to be discarded after your DNA was drained of all it could offer; and Leon would continue to fester in the belief that you were dead.

But this was the world you had chosen and you did all you could to protect it. Leon’s position was a threat to yours. Regardless of the emotions in between. 

You sighed again, striding back towards him. He gave you a brief forlorn glance before you took hold of his face and forced his lips upon yours. With his arms now free, they were quick to wrap around you and pull you tightly against himself. His hands exploring every inch of you that he could, knowing very well that this moment – as soon as it ended – might as well be the last time he could have you this close.

He was so welcomingly warm and you wanted nothing more than to spend enough hours in his arms until you were sick of it. And you lingered as long as that gnawing voice in the back of your mind remained silent and once it piped up again, you knew it was only for the best of you both to let go.

Leon chased after your lips once you pulled away and you pressed a finger to his mouth to hold him back. He closed his eyes, his grip barely loosening from your body.

“I’ll be in touch.” You whispered and he nodded wordlessly; at long last releasing you.

Pocketing your knife back inside your boot, you offered him another smile before you disappeared out in the cold, leaving a vacant iciness in your wake. Leon heaved a short sigh.

“I’ll... catch you later.” 

[rougepancake]

All I ask of you

Ft. Gyutaro x Afab!Reader

Phantom of the opera au

Warnings: Yandere themes, slightly ooc Gyutaro. Not proofread. Listen to the soundtrack while reading. Enjoy!

Summary: He’s hideous. Hideous and alone. And he wants you more than anything.

Forever.

Gyutaro has been watching you for what’s felt like forever.

He watched you grow up in the opera house. He has heard your beautiful voice sing the melodies of the various plays you’ve performed. He’s witnessed you dance and play with your friends for so many years now.

And it was beginning to drive him insane.

You just knew of his presence, not of his entire being. You thought he was an angel, when he was, in fact, far from being considered such a divine being.

But you didn’t know any better.

He was front and center at all of your shows, hiding in plain sight so you wouldn’t figure him out. He truly loved the way you sounded up on the stage, and how your glorious presence lit up the room whenever you entered. It was as if you were a ray of sunshine finally breaking in and shining into his mundane world, causing him to feel things that were quite foreign to him.

Seeing you perform was not enough. He needed you. He needed to feel your skin against his in a dance that was only performed by two people who were maddeningly infatuated with one another. It plagued his thoughts, being all that he could think about for days.

And then, he had his moment.

“Sing for me, angel of music.” He whispered from behind the large mirror of your dressing room. It was littered with various bouquets from your admirers, and the colors only accentuated your features further.

You had been doing your vocal warmups, and the sudden voice had startled you, resulting in your voice cracking horribly.

“Angel? Is that you?” You rose from your seat and walked towards the mirror. It was an innocent question, simple, really, but it sent Gyutaro into a spiral.

“Yes, my dear.” His voice was raspy, and he was hidden from your sight, silently urging you to come closer to the mirror. He spoke with urgency in his tone, and his breathing sounded strained. He almost sounded… desperate…

“Angel, did you see my performance tonight?” Your eyes lit up as you spoke, and you couldn’t keep your excitement hidden. While you couldn’t see him, you hoped he could see you. It made you happy, after all.

He’s been with you your whole life.

“Come closer to the mirror, Y/n.” He beckoned, and his figure came into view. He moved as if he were your reflection, unsure and anxious, but he looked into your eyes with such determination that it only excited you further. “Let me take you away.” His hand extended to you, and you felt inclined to reach out and take it.

Oh how you wanted to run away with him, regardless of the doubts that crept up in the depths of your mind. You thought you knew him. He was an angel, after all. He’s guided you your whole life, and has yet to lead you astray.

“Take me away, angel.” You whispered and took his hand, shivering at how cold it was against your skin.

And take you away he did.

He took you away and refused to look back, out of fear that he’d wake up and see that it was all a dream. His grip on your hand was tight, his bony fingers interlaced with your own as he led you through many tunnels and passageways that you didn’t even know existed until now.

“Where are you leading me, angel?” Your voice was filled with awe, and you sounded as if you were filled with such a childlike wonder that you forgot to be afraid of what might happen to you.

“Somewhere safe.” He answered shortly. “Somewhere where there’s no need to hide behind stupid masks and pretty faces.” He said the words with such disdain in his voice that you couldn’t help but feel bad.

But then his mask fell to the side, and he turned to look at you.

Dread filled you, causing you to freeze in place behind him. It was a fear unlike any other, and you couldn’t help but stare at the various marks and scars that graced his features.

His eyes lit up in pain as he stared at you, finding that his words were failing him. However, he couldn’t give up now. He had to take you with him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t.

You were past the point of no return.

[rkiveinmarvel]

kies jou. - kaz brekker. des. shadow and bones (tv) s2 spoilers!. kaz brekker didn't let hope cloud his judgment, however just this once, he lets it because it's you. notes. angst. ooc(?) kaz brekker. brief mentions of Kaz's trauma. kaz and Inej do not have a romantic link. to establish a relationship. mentions six of crow's shenanigans.

hello there! i suck at summary but here you go an angsty yet fluffy kaz brekker this is my first time writing for the fellow, so he might be ooc. enjoy!

wanorde - chaos kies jou - choose you wc: 956

Kaz Brekker wanted something, something more than the kruge he could bury with his dead body, more than the gold he could hang on his walls, more than the paintings he could hide in his room, Kaz Brekker wanted something more. He wanted you.

He watched everyone look at you whenever you entered the slat, how their eyes would linger on your face and hands. Some say you’re a dream built to see paradise but to Kaz, you were a fucking chaos. The chaos that might drown him someday and maybe save him one day. He saw you as a weakness, not for the crew, but a weakness kept within himself. 

But saints, if you were the chaos then why do you keep caring, why do you keep looking at him with eyes that calm him down, why do you always there in plain sight, and why do you always pull him up whenever the water in his lungs looks for ways for him to drown. He never saw it coming, he just realized that one day, he didn’t want to lose you. 

Maybe it was the night when you let him see a little bit of you in your safe place or maybe the night where he let you break a little part of his walls or maybe the time you looked at him with care even if he is in his armor. Or maybe the time when you bled to protect him. It made Kaz numb, he loathed this emotion, this feeling, this chaos brooding inside him. To some, it’s hope, a hope to make things better, to make things okay but Kaz learned to hope the hard way, when he was a kid, Hope drowns you and clouds your judgment. 

But hope is a word of luck dipped in the honey of chaos, that was hope for Kaz when you express it. It feels so foreign yet so raw, it scared him yet it also became his salvation and perhaps, a secret language that only he can decipher. All the heist, all the thrill, lead to this, lead you to him, always to him. 

—

The fold was now only a myth, the weight of the gold filled Kaz’s pockets, Inej has gotten her freedom, Jesper and Wylan were okay, Nina and her slab of fur will unite once again, and then you. 

As you tell your prayers to the saints of Ravka, a man with a cane watched you in the corner of the room.

“Did you get the payment, Brekker?”

Kaz looked at you and the wound on your forehead, then he recalled the moment earlier when you protected him from a volcra. He looked away and in the back of his mind, Jordie’s voice resurfaced.

You will always cause harm, Kaz. You are the chaos, you are!

He clenched his jaw and weave a deep sigh. “Everyone will get their cut once we're back in Ketterdamn.”

He looked at you once again, and to his surprise, you were staring at him, your caring stare for him. The voice of Jordie and the waves of the sea were cleared again, and the only thing he heard was your voice. 

“What now, Brekker?”

With that question, he held his cane a little tighter, and his breathing become rigged.

“Settle. Inej isn’t the only one who got their freedom.” 

You nodded your head as you stood up and walked up to him.

“Tell me something…Kaz.” His name fell out of your lips like a hymn he wishes to bottle as if whenever he hears your voice, all he wanted is to let hope to cloud his judgment. “I know you saw something, you…you’ve never been the same since that time, Brekker.”

Of course, you noticed. How the number amount of times he called your name, he stood a little closer to you, he looked over to you, protect you, something happened in Shu Han, you knew it. Kaz knew it.

“Please…Kaz.” 

He looked at you and he knew your voice was much scarier than the poison he inhaled in Shu Han, he never knew that chaos would be so beautiful and so…hopeful. Hope clouds judgment, Kaz knew it.

But this time, he lets it.

“Jordie was there…” He watched your expression be different when you looked at his eyes and they looked bitter as he spoke his brother’s name. Perhaps a misunderstanding or fear but his words suck the air in your lungs. 

“And you, my wanorde.”

Chaos. 

You stared at each other for a moment. As he breaks the silence, with his walls and armor again.

“Why…why didn’t you run away when the volcra was in front of me?”

You sighed and gave him a knowing look.

“Because I promised. I promised myself to take care of you. May I?”

You gestured your hand over his hand and at this exact moment, his walls and armor betrayed him as hope pushed him through his loudest thoughts: to have you.

He grabbed your hand as you softly examine and traced the markings of his gloves, and his whispers slipped from his mouth. “It’s rotten work..” He was mad and disappointed.

But his tone was also sad, relieved, and somehow, it was like a plea. You inhaled deeply, as you held his hands, now with both of your hands. You smiled at him.

“Not to me, Kaz.”

His hand in yours was something that scared him, he fears that it would drown him but just this once, he let it be, for your hands never drowned him, somehow it saved him. Upon touching your hands…

“Not if it’s you.”

…he felt alive.

a/n: i actually based this story off : “Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.” ― Anne Carson, Euripides

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[kazumiku]

— MINE

NSWF (crossposted on AO3 @Kazumik)

SUMMARY; Kazuha's one-sided pinning turns into an overwhelming infatuation—an obsession that needs to be unleashed somehow, someway. So, he spilled his guts out in a poem that claims you are his, only before hiding you away from the world to prove his audacious words to be true.

READ WARNINGS; ooc, dark themes, has blood and violence, rape, dubcon, yandere Kazuha, the reader has alexithymia (i think)

you have now been warned...

Enigmatic, you are. Walking through the hallways with an unbothered look, strangely calm amongst the loud voices of students crowding every corner of the hall, their voices having silenced by your thoughts, inaudible in your ears as you saunter towards your classroom.

Nobody paid you any heed when you slid open the door, and you couldn’t care less. Making your way to your seat, body relaxed and leaning against the back of the seat once you’re sat. Your classmates had minded their own business, but there was a feeling at the back of your head that somebody was staring, your eyes wander to meet with unfamiliarly familiar scarlet eyes.

Kazuha was his name, as you remembered from some time ago, he had handed you a small envelope with a poem inside. Each stroke by his pen used, word by word, written with underlying possessiveness, forming each stanza to subtly declare you as his. Shameless was an understatement, he will do anything in his power to at least stare at you, his gaze invasive, it was hard to brush off, even for an individual like you.

“Forgive how I ogle, admiring you, as I’m lost in my own bubble;

Your blasé magnificence guides my forlorn gaze,

Spiraling my once working mind into a compulsive haze.

My doll, for only you I must craze.

Fear not for I mean no harm;

To wound you is a sin, my goddess, I shan’t.

But, dear, my patience wears thin.

Worry not your pretty mind, sooner, I’ll make it even.

—K.K.”

You did not know how to answer that, ghosting him in terms of letters as you were unwilling to be his pen pal. His poem sent shivers down your spine, the bad type of shivers, the one to make your throat dry and your eyes wide from his audacity. “Sooner, I’ll make it even.” It’s silly, you thought.

What? Was Kazuha going to kidnap you and force you to love him or something? Impossible, he looked too lanky to do so.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It almost felt like you spoke to soon, groggily opening your eyes to the sight of a plain, dim lighted room, having to squint your eyes as your surroundings were unintelligible to your disoriented vision. Where were you? Only the gods can tell.

The only memory you could recall before your world submerged in black was you, walking home peacefully. Well, peacefully until your breathing was cut short by what seemed like a chloroform rag covering the lower-half of your face, held onto place by a firm hand that snaked from behind you, forcing you to inhale the mind-numbing drugs to succumb you into a temporary, yet deep slumber.

“What the… where am I?” You winced quietly, your mind throbbing in pain. The room was cold, yet it seems only you, and, well, the noisy rats at the corner of the room, being the only thing that breathed inside there. It was eerie, like the low-quality horror films you used to adore watching as a kid. But, this time, it was in real life, and not in some lousy made movie.

Few moments have passed, with what seemed like an eternity, when in reality is was a few minutes, there was finally movement going on in the room—other than the rodents that reside with you in the same room—the door peeked open before a head of familiar platinum blesses your gaze. Chains clanked as you tried to shift, only then did you notice the heavy shackles around your ankles and wrists.

“Ah, you’re awake,” The man’s silvery voice graces its way into your ears, a smile playing on his lips. A twisted one, his scarlet gaze as dim as the lights offered, why is little to no illumination. “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Kazuha jested casually, presenting a tray in his hand. “I brought you something to eat. You must be tired, poor little thing…”

He knelt to meet your point of view, placing the tray on the floor in front of you. As much as this unnerved you, as your muscles were screaming, aching for you to run—a bored face masked your inner conflict as you glanced down to the dish, a simple plate of fried fish, having a nice aroma that you’d probably eat it. But not when you’re restricted, only being kidnapped, your stomach churning in… fear?

Who knows.

Kazuha was quick to catch on your reluctance to eat, sighing inwardly before he reached down for the spoon. He simply opted to feed you in your stead, not wanting you to starve under his care. “Say ‘ahh’ for me, honey,” He instructed with a sickly sweet voice, tipping the fish-filled spoon just at the entrance your lips as he waited for your cooperation.

You responded in a jaded stare before looking to the side to an empty corner, peering at nothing in particular. “Am I in a basement?” Your sudden question earned a hum from him before he chuckled and nodded. “What an astute observation, my dear, you’re right on the money.” The platinum boy praised before patting your head, like an owner would do to its pet.

You moved your head back away from under his palm in unease, though it wouldn’t show how shaken you are in terms of facial features—though the twitching of your hand was proof of your uncertainty, Kazuha, being the attentive person he was, hastily caught on, smirking in amusement at that. So that’s how you show emotion, huh? He was starting to pick up swiftly on how to read you. Skillfully at that.

“Don’t touch me…” You whispered, voice laced with indecision. Nevertheless, Kazuha did not falter, still aiming the spoonful at you. “Open your mouth wide, dear,” He was resolved in his decision to feed you, which you gleefully ignore.

The corners of Kazuha’s lips drew down, clicking his tongue at your continuous defiance, it was like a switch flipped as he went straight to the point. His free hand lunged towards your face, seeking your jaw before moving higher to pinch both sides of your cheek, leaving your lips to part open for the spoonful to enter. Before you could think of spitting the food, you started chewing, the fish well-cooked and seasoned perfectly to match your liking.

A pleased hum vibrated from his throat seeing you eat, that sweetly unnerving smile of his dawning back to view in his face. “That’s a good girl,” Kazuha praised, earning you another pat on the head. You couldn’t even move your head back before his slender fingers made its way to grasp on your locks, leaving you to quietly wince as you busy on chewing.

“Don’t think about even defying me or my wishes, you won’t live see the end of it, my love.”

With that same velvety voice of his, his threat reverberated through the empty basement, asserting his authority over you in a sugar-coated, honeyed manner that makes you want to gag.

Kazuha’s fingers then untangle from your hair, stroking the side of your face before he placed the spoon back on the tray and went back up to his feet, leaving you to sit alone on the icy floor, chained to the equally cold walls.

“I still have matters to attend to, I trust that you’re able enough to feed yourself.” He declared, leaving you to your own accord as he disappeared up the stairs, a glimpse of light seeping out from the open door before he shuts the exit behind him, leaving you to willow in the shadowy room, unaided, chilly and alone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Time has lost its worth in this little space you’re now resided in, and, surprisingly enough, you are taken good care of throughout the duration of your elongated stay, occasionally cleaned and fed good dishes that are cooked by his own hands. The only way you could tell that time is moving from the outside was by Kazuha’s feeding times, giving you the usual three meals a day. But now, it felt like he’s given you food for countless of times now, the days turning to weeks, to months. It’s been a year, probably, and you still wouldn’t be sure of how much moons had passed.

Any disobedience ever endeavored throughout is only to be met with punishment, punishment meaning pain—along with pleasure that leaves you conflicted on what to genuinely feel about your captor, yet in never shows in your face, making it all the more exhilarating in Kazuha’s scarlet eyes.

“You’re so much like a doll,” Kazuha comments, his voice husky, a contrast to his usual velvety voice but still holding the same volume of tooth-rotting honey that charmingly rolls out of his tongue. “You always keep a straight face, like you’re bored… Heh, even when I…”

He trailed on his words then your head flew to the side with a loud slap reverberating through the room, leaving a prominent, red hand-mark on your cheek before he grasps at your hair to move your face back towards him, crimson eyes glimmering with shiny stars of admiration at your seemingly unfeeling expression. You looked so beautiful like this. You were meant for him, he’s certain.

“Shit— you like that, don’t you? You’re squeezing around me so much,” He groaned, his cock throbbing inside you, each engorged vein prodding, rubbing against your velvety walls. Even cockwarming him felt good, by how thick he was. At first, you’d tear up through droopy eyes, but now you’re trained to take his cock, to feel how much he’s stretched your puny hole up every time you felt too rebellious. But Kazuha’s just disciplining you, he’s clarified that many times.

His whole length sat inside you snugly, a perfect fit, all for him. “It’s too much… p-please, I’m sorry… I want you to move…” You panted, heartbeat pounding loudly inside your tightening rib cage. You felt so stuffed, overwhelmed, wanting to frown—But you’re simply unable to, always having that default look on your face even when he’s tormenting you both physically and mentally, molding your body to his taste, twisting your mind to have the same corrupted morals as him.

Turning you into the perfect pet for him. Only for him.

He chuckled, licking his bottom lip as one hand held your hips so you won’t squirm away, the other hand stroking your forearm, reaching down to trace at the shackles on your wrist. Clearly, he doesn’t trust you enough to let the cuffs off, simply opting to keep you like this for your whole life, perhaps. Maybe if you weren’t such a bad girl. Kazuha doesn’t mind, though, he prefers you like this, tied down. It assures him that you won’t slip out of his grasp.

“Hmm, are you sure that you’re sorry, my lovely?” You choke out a yes, bobbing of your head vigorously as you glance at him through damp lashes, your breath hitching as he suddenly pulled out until the tip was the only thing left in you, earning him a whine that bubbled from your throat.

It seems Kazuha was satisfied with your keen nodding to his question. And, without warning, he plunged back into your depths with a wet squelch, your jaw dropping loose as he bottoms out inside you. Then he repeated the motion, seeking the perfect pace that made you throw your head back, eyes rolling as his dick hit all the right spots inside you with practiced ease.

The obscene noise of your sweaty skin meeting his resonated throughout the room, bouncing off the walls along with your high-pitched whining and his low grunts, his firm hands now making way to grasp your thighs and pry them further open before draping them over his shoulders, the chains attached to your legs jittering as he does so.

His cock met the maximum capacity of your depths, the tip of his cock flush against your cervix that it made you see stars, your body shuddering and writing against him weakly. Drool started to trickle down your chin, but that didn’t stop Kazuha as he descended his lips onto your moist ones, drenching his mouth in your saliva before his tongue slid out to enter yours, drinking up your loud noises that it becomes gurgled.

“You’re so warm, my love… You’re mine now, aren’t you?” Kazuha grunted, slightly muffled as he claimed your body as his, his scarlet eyes brimming with possessiveness that will only look your way. He loves you, he loves this, and he loves ravaging your body so much. Mine, mine, mine, that was the only thing that echoed through his mind.

Your stomach churned as a familiar knot formed, your pussy tightening even more so in a vice-like grip around his girth, the action soundlessly telling him your climax was drawing near. And, with that, the rhythm of his hips sped up, now pounding you down onto the floor relentlessly as he pulled his lips away from yours to travel down to your neck, littering your supple skin with red-purple marks along with occasional nibbles that left bite scars.

With one last harsh thrust, you scream loudly with a strained voice as he bit down on your shoulder hard. Hard enough to draw blood, yet the pain seems to only enhance the heightened arousal you felt as your vagina fluttered around him, the knot in your stomach undoing itself as you coat his whole length in your climax with a heavy pant.

But he didn’t halt there, even when you reached up to grasp his forearm and beg him to stop. Even when tears trickled down your flushed cheek. Even when your typically dormant face finally contorted into one of pained overstimulation. Even when your nails dig onto his flesh, clawing, leaving red scores to form on his skin.

Nevertheless, Kazuha was selfish, seeking out his own well-earned orgasm as his hips stuttered, thrusts losing its rhythm as he sloppily plunged himself in and out your abused cunt.

“Shh… b-baby, I’m almost there,” Kazuha assured, breath hot against your skin as he licked the bruises that formed throughout the expanse of your neck and shoulder. “You’re doing so well, my love, just a little more… mmh, I love you, I-I love you.…”

His voice went quiet as he bottomed out fully, cock twitching inside you one last time before spurting out ropes of white liquid, flooding your womb with his warm semen, claiming you as his completely and utterly. You could only fall limp on the ground as he remained inside you, ensuring all his load stayed inside your pussy.

“I… I l-love you too…”

You’re his. You’ve always have been, and forever will be.             

notes; erm this is a peace offering for not updating, so i hope u enjoyed (stoner scara is rotting in my unfinished works.. ive been rewriting it bc i didnt like how i wrote it initially, and im still working on it)

[stxneflxwers]

a little possessive.

a/n. this was rly nice to write teehee

characters. aventurine x OC.

cw. potentially OOC?? idk. Self-Ship!!! kissing (once). implied suicide ideation/attempt. alcohol. cheating*. *not really sure if i'd classify this as cheating considering Ray's bf is like. a scumbag and cheated first. 🤷‍♂️

wc. 3.2k

“A little possessive” might be a good way to describe Aventurine at times.

Not always, of course. He’s far more likely to simply let something go when it doesn’t serve any real purpose to him or his work any longer. Even if there’s that initial sting of loss. But when it comes to a person he truly enjoys the presence of, he latches onto them with a silently scared death grip. It may be subconscious, it may not be – it’s not like he knows, either.

However, it’s rare for him to openly act possessive. He keeps many things quiet, especially the thoughts and emotions close to his suit of hearts. He hides in plain sight, concealed beneath layers of glitz and glamor.

Yet when he sees the sight of his favorite little Ray of sunshine sitting alone in an isolated corner in the casino’s grand game room, he doesn’t stop himself from stepping up to their table. And, as usual, there’s an easy smile on his face, betraying the confusion and fear in his gut.

Someone like them shouldn’t be in a place like this, he thinks.

“So, tell me, Sunray,” He leans against the polished table, one elbow resting on the surface. “What could you possibly be doing in this den of sin?”

Ray sighs, glancing up at Aventurine from their seat – they had been mindlessly scrolling through social media. They were busy numbing themself to the stench of drunken greed around them.

“On a date,” They answer flatly, they’ve never had much cadence in their monotonous voice, “...Or was, at least.” They shake their head, black head-wings twitching.

“...A date?” He blinks in surprise. If there’s one thing he’s certain of about the florist is that they’re a hardcore recluse. So, seeing them out in a casino, on a date of all things, catches him off-guard (for once).

“...Yeah,” They roll their tired, lightless chocolate-hued eyes, “Is it really that surprising?”

“Yes, actually,” He grins a little more, it’s wry, “I didn’t pin you as the type to have, well, friends.” He teases lightly.

“I could say the same about you.” They blink blankly at him, no hint of emotion or thought behind their dark gaze.

“Ouch!” He chuckles, but their brutal honesty does sting just a bit. Maybe that’s why he enjoys their company – they’re not the type to habitually lie to him. Or so he thinks, perhaps even hopes.

For them, they aren’t sure whether they want him to fuck off or stick around. They think he’s amusing at best, insufferable at worst. Yet they’re leaning toward wanting him to fuck off before their “date” came back.

Much to their dismay, the date is already back. And he’s standing right behind Aventurine, arms folded and eyes narrowed.

“Director, do you mind?” The much taller man inquires, setting down Ray’s cup of raspberry vodka in front of them. “We’re a little…preoccupied.” He glares despite the dry grin on his dark-skinned face.

“Ah, this must be the man of the hour!” Aventurine whirls around to meet the dark brown eyes of the nameless boyfriend. His casual smile sticks as he offers his hand to him for a shake.

The date confidently takes his hand, giving him a firm shake. An admirable one.

“Oziah.” The boyfriend introduces himself, simple and to the point. The Stoneheart is starting to see why these two are together—

And then he hears Ray’s damn near silent sigh from behind. When he glances over his shoulder, he notices the empty expression on their face as they stare at the full glass of vodka. He looks back at Oziah.

“My pleasure, Oziah.” He nods, tucking his hand into his pants pocket.

“I’d be lying if I said it’s a pleasure,” Oziah remarks, his tone domineering, “...The Director is out to play – with Ray, of all people,” He comments dryly. “It’s strange to see you two know each other.”

(Oh, so he’s that kind of guy…) Aventurine thinks, already brewing a plan. “Well, I am a man of many mysteries,” He grins a little sharper, enough to cut diamonds. “Tell me, Oziah, what brings you to my humble establishment tonight? Looking for a cheap thrill, perhaps?” He challenges with a raised brow.

"Heh, a cheap thrill? Maybe. A cheap thrill is having to deal with you." Oziah scoffs lightly, but his smile doesn't waver.

"Oziah, please… Let's not embarrass us further." Ray says quietly, yet their body language still screams of dejection, like they can't muster more energy or courage to walk away. Hopelessness riddles every fiber of their being.

"…Here – I'll get you another drink, Ray. Your cup is empty already," Oziah says coolly, taking Ray's suddenly empty glass to go refill at the bar. “...And since you’re so fond of our little Director here, I’ll give you two some…‘space’.” He snorts in disdain before departing.

Swiftly, Aventurine slides into the seat across from them. His posture is casual with how his elbows rest on the table and how his smile is easy, but both betray how serious he is. His vibrant eyes narrow, darkening with concern he tries to conceal.

“Tell me something, Ray,” He starts, “Why do you stay with someone who treats you like this? Someone that chases fleeting thrills rather than appreciates you for who you are?” He asks, his voice a low rumble. “Is it because you think you deserve nothing better? Because I can assure you, that's not true."

Silence hangs between the pair like fog, hiding true feelings that may die unspoken. For a moment, he allows himself to imagine a different life, one where he isn’t trapped in a cycle of self-destruction and an ultimately inherently unjust destiny. A life where he can take what he wants for himself. But then reality comes crashing back into his mind, and he forces himself to laugh, to pretend.

“But, hey, what do I know?” He grins, but it feels weaker than usual. “I am just a washed-up gambler with more demons than friends, after all,” He stands with a flourish of his overcoat. “Now… If you’ll excuse me, Sunray, I have some games to win. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” He fleetingly pats their shoulder as he turns and walks away.

They wince when he turns and strides away with fake purpose, and they mutter a soft, “I'm sorry,” under their alcohol-scented breath. With no one in earshot, the florist whimpers, tears pricking at their eyes before the tears are quickly brushed away so no one notices.

Aventurine keeps a close eye on Ray and Oziah throughout the evening, but only from afar. Around an hour later, the “washed-up gambler” notices the boyfriend has vanished into the night – probably with a new woman around his arm. Aventurine saw how he charmed his way right into that woman’s pants. And the Senior Manager is damn sure that Ray saw it too.

When he notices Ray is drinking yet another beloved glass of raspberry vodka, he sighs quietly. And then he’s immediately at their table – taking away the cup from their weak grasp and setting it on the other end of the table, out of reach.

“Come now, Sunray,” He murmurs, “Don’t you think you’ve had a bit too much for one night?” He asks, perhaps with more tenderness than he wants to show; a stark contrast to the cool, distant mask he prefers to wear.

He can see the sweat on their face, how their cheeks flush a bright pink, how they pant lightly, how their hand trembles on the table. He can tell they’re on the verge of poisoning themself with all that alcohol.

“Not enough until…until…” They drawl, their soft voice a slurring mess. “Let…me…” They whimper, their head and eyelids drooping from exhaustion, yet their shaking hand continues to desperately reach for the half-empty glass of liquor. It’s so close, death could be so close.

“Enough, Ray,” He says firmly, putting the glass on a different, nearby empty table. “This isn’t the answer. I’m taking you home.” He informs, and he’s not about to budge on the topic. Even if he understands their desire, their desperation – he’s not going to bend his knee to their drunken whims.

Without warning, he pulls them up out of their chair. When they sway, he grabs their arm with a tender firmness that’s unfamiliar to them.

“N-No…!” They sputter hopelessly, but their body is too tired, too weak to fight back against him – all that’s left are broken pleas. “No one wants me… Get rid of me…” They’re delirious with a glazed-over stare fixated on the polished casino floor, and their knees are starting to buckle inward.

He catches and hoists them up before they can fall, and he’s alarmed by how light they are. He settles with holding them in a princess carry, he knows they won’t physically fight back.

“Nonsense,” He mutters, giving them a hard stare until both their eyes meet. “I want you.” He says faster than he can stop himself, and he freezes. But the knowledge that the florist won’t remember this by tomorrow brings him a semblance of calm.

When they simply look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth, he shakes his head with a small, reassuring smile. Their head then suddenly drops to rest on his shoulder, unable to hold up their own weight any longer. He takes a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. And then he’s off – striding outside with newfound purpose.

The moment he’s outside, the flickering neon lights of the casino's sign illuminates his back, and the cold snap of the nighttime air slaps him. He subtly notices their breath hitch from the sudden chill, but then it’s already slowed its pace back down to a near-halt – low, shallow, labored. He frowns slightly.

And then he wonders – what is he doing, returning this broken creature to their doorstep? He's no savior, no knight in shining armor. He's just a man with too many demons and not enough luck.

He daydreams for perhaps one too many moments long – about how he could save Ray from Oziah, from themself, in another life. When he hears them grumble in their sleep, he’s immediately back in reality, the sound momentarily scaring him. He shakes his head before heading to his vehicle, soon tucking the drunken florist into the passenger seat, deftly securing the seatbelt.

Upon getting into the driver’s side of the vehicle, he sighs and rests his head on the top of the driving wheel. He sits there for a long moment, hands wrapped around the wheel with a vice grip. All he wants right now is to do more for them than he could possibly hope to achieve. In the end, he doesn’t know what he could feasibly do for them.

Maybe they just need time, he thinks as he starts the transport, bringing it to life with soft whirring.

But, how much time is too much time? How much time is appropriate until it’s too late?

He wonders about loosening his emotional grip on them, to distance himself until there’s nothing left but the ghost of their friendship. Then again, he’d feel so much guilt if they took their life because he wasn’t there to stop them. Just more guilt to choke him with.

“...You owe me one. Heh.” He chuckles weakly, glancing over at the snoozing Ray that sits next to him. With a trembling hand, he reaches out, brushing a bleached blonde curl behind their ear.

Ray mumbles lightly in their sleep, a soft smile caressing their lips when they feel the warmth, the tender touch of someone else brushing along their flushed skin.

They aren’t as cruel or as cold as they may lead others to believe. Instead, they are a product of emotional neglect, a product of a broken and poor family, and a product of a society that never wanted someone like them.

And, in reality, Ray is just as scared as Aventurine. Interpersonal relationships are a scary thing, and both the florist and the gambler's lives have been fraught with loss. Both have long since been led to believe that relationships are mere professional transactions, even if it's untrue. Yet when the pair see each other, there are sparks of empathy, and yearning to linger just a little longer. Something inextricable that ties both together, closer yet closer.

The drive to Ray's house is short, but he makes it last as long as possible. He doesn't want to let them go, doesn't want to say goodbye. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But he knows he has to. Time is cruel.

After pulling up to the curb outside of the two-story house and parking, he turns to look at them. The dim lights of the dashboard faintly illuminate their face, and they look younger, softer. It’s like all of their weariness, their troubles have melted away. Just this once, they are vulnerable. And he doesn’t know if he’s truly earned to see it.

“Hey,” He whispers, “We’re here.” He adds, he assures they wake up before slipping out of the vehicle, moving to the passenger side outside.

“Ngh…” They grumble, putting a hand to their head as the door swings open and he undoes their seatbelt for them. When both of their faces are a little too close to each other in the small space, they gasp softly, “Oh…” They glance away, “..Hi…” They bite down on the inside of their bottom lip.

“...Hey,” He softly echoes almost too quickly, but he doesn’t think to reprimand himself for it right away. “How are you feeling?” He asks, mentally kicking himself for the stupid question.

Of course they don't feel good. But, he asks anyway, because he doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't know how to bridge the gap between them, how to tell them everything he's thinking without scaring them away. So, he settles for small talk, for gentle touches and concerned eyes.

“I should take you inside,” He says, pulling away from the passenger seat after unbuckling the florist. He offers his hand to them, “Get you into bed.” He says, and quickly kicks himself mentally yet again.

The words came out wrong, in a way he didn’t intend. His fingers twitch in the air before he quickly clears his throat awkwardly.

“I mean – to sleep, to rest.” He manages to sputter out, his charismatic mask falling away in the dark, chilly night. He can’t help but trip over his own two feet when his whole world has narrowed down to just himself and Ray, with their sleepy, dark eyes looking up at him.

“You’re silly, pretty boy.” They tease, the delirium in their voice may be evident, but something deep inside him tells him that the affection they show him is unfiltered.

They attempt to get out of the automobile, their weak hand in his own offered one, and then they stumble and clutch him tighter. He catches them. They blush and glance away, ashamed of having to use him as a crutch.

“Don’t apologize,” He swiftly cuts in with the most tenderness they’ve ever heard spill from his lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He reprimands, almost lovingly.

He guides them across the sidewalk and up to the front door of the house, he checks the handle even as Ray shuffles for their key. The door opens with ease, and the florist grumbles.

“Dad must’ve forgotten to lock the door…again…” They shake their head as Aventurine helps them inside.

His breath hitches as they step into the dimly lit foyer, his heartbeat rapidly picking up pace. This is the first time he’s been in their house, instead of just the flower boutique. The intimacy scares him. He wants to run so far away. But his desire to make sure this fragile Halovian is safe tonight is far stronger.

“...Thanks for helping me here, Aventurine,” They mumble, turning to look at him as he awkwardly stands in the doorway. He swears hearing his name on their lips is addicting, and he wonders what it’d be like to have them say his birth name. “I really appreciate it. Let…let me return the favor one day.”

“Anytime,” He nods, gulping silently as he adjusts his collar. “I should probably get going now…” He frowns slightly, and they aren’t sure why. But he’s already turning around to leave.

He wants to spend time with them, to get to know them better, to take all of their time for himself. He wants that and so much more.

“...Ray?” He half-turns toward them, his fists in his pockets to hide how his hands tremble. “Do you believe in fate?” He asks simply, and he wonders if this is a bad time to ask. But he wants to know if he’s the only one who feels this pull.

“I guess it depends on how you personally define fate,” They start, their soft voice taking a philosophical edge. “Do you confuse it for destiny? Maybe determinism? And, more importantly,” They take a tentative step closer to him, “...Do you believe it can be broken?”

He hums softly in acknowledgement, they rarely fail to give him food for thought. He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised they had something interesting to say.

“A-Anyway,” They fluster slightly, “I suppose I do believe in fate, yes – to some extent.” They nod, “Aeons, Gods, Deities… THEY all exist in this universe, but it makes me wonder just how much control THEY truly have,” They say breathlessly. “There are…so many unanswered questions out there, but… Maybe fate is made to be broken, in the end.” They whisper as they step up to him.

A slow smile softly stretches their lips, they glance away before looking at him again. They take a moment to breathe before speaking what they’ve ached to tell him.

“If fate tries to separate us, I…I want to break that rule and find you again,” They murmur sweetly, their hand reaching out to him – and then awkwardly hanging in the air. They settle with gently squeezing his bicep. “…Don't think too hard about it, Aven. Or you'll get a migraine.” They tease.

He can’t stop himself from genuinely chuckling at the jest, “Too late.” He teases back. He looks back at them, gaze flicking between their hand and their face, “...But, you’re right – about breaking rules.” 

He takes his own step closer to them, grabbing their hand that rests on his arm, but never letting go. He’s content with holding their colder hand, he wants to warm it up with his own. He wants to keep them warm, safe.

“I…want to see where this goes, Ray, even if it’s crazy. Even if it makes no goddamn sense,” He whispers, his hand shaking as he holds their own. “...Can I kiss you?” He asks so sweetly, so tenderly. “Just once. Just to see.” He adds breathily, his gut wrenching with anxiety and fear – he expects to be rejected.

They smile wider, “Of course. But, I can’t promise I’m any good at kissing,” They snicker lightly, leaning in toward him until there’s barely any space left. “Let’s see where this all goes together, yeah?”

He nods, gulping nervously before risking this all headfirst. He closes the distance, his other hand cupping their cheek as their lips brush against each other, eyes fluttering shut. He immediately notes how soft, how sweet their lips are, and he wants more of this. So much more.

All of it, he wants all of it. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get what he wants. Just this once.