#I ALSO just want to write more about the Regret Prison

[midnightwind]

the true question for Clipped Wings is do I just slap the summons home from Viago as the next chapter or try to squeeze in some more general exploration of the Crossroad and/or jobs in Minrathous and/or Two Crows Being Dudes before tossing that one into the canon timeline

[strawb4kdior]

~ PRISON WIFE III ~

parings: vi x FEM reader

tw: angst on Vi's side, but not as bad at part 2

summary: Vi realizes her mistake, she sees what she lost and regrets her decisions.

a/n: this will be the last part sorry im currently writing more so dw ;) also TYSM for the support and likes. it rlly motivates meto keep writing 🫶

creds: @azteriarizz for requesting part 3 🩷

< part 2

The air in Zaun was thick with smoke and neon, the familiar hum of the underground city vibrating beneath Vi’s boots. It had been a long time since she last set foot here—long enough that she almost felt like a stranger in the place that raised her. But Caitlyn wanted to patrol the lower levels, and Vi wasn’t about to let her do it alone.

She adjusted the cuffs of her jacket, shoving her hands in her pockets as she walked beside Caitlyn. The enforcer’s sharp blue eyes scanned the crowd, ever observant.

"You alright?" Caitlyn asked, nudging Vi’s shoulder.

"Yeah," Vi muttered. "Just… a lot’s changed."

Caitlyn hummed. "I imagine it would. It’s been a while."

Vi exhaled, rolling her shoulders. She didn’t know why she felt so restless. Maybe it was the memories clinging to every street corner, every flickering light. Or maybe it was the nagging guilt she had buried the day she walked away from her.

She hadn’t thought about her in months. Not really.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But then Vi’s gaze flickered toward one of the bars lining the street, a place she used to drink at before Stillwater. Her steps faltered.

Because she was there.

Sitting in the corner of the bar’s outdoor seating area, laughing, a drink in one hand and the other draped casually over the thigh of a girl who sat in her lap.

Vi’s stomach twisted.

She looked good. No, not just good—better. Healthier. Happier. Her hair was a little longer now, dyed a deep cherry red, the loose waves framing her sharp features. She wore a sleek black waistcoat over a deep red silk top, low-waisted trousers hugging her frame. She looked powerful. Confident. A far cry from the woman Vi had last seen, raw and broken in her apartment doorway.

And she wasn’t alone.

The girl in her lap was beautiful—Zaunite, by the looks of her, with dark kohl-lined eyes and short platinum blonde hair that curled at the ends. She was dressed in tight leather and lace, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned into her, whispering something in her ear.

And then, as if she could feel Vi staring, she looked up.

For a long, breathless moment, their eyes locked.

Vi felt it like a punch to the gut.

She expected anger. Bitterness. Hatred. But there was none of that. No fire, no fury. Just a cold, unreadable gaze that lingered for a second too long before she simply turned away—back to the woman in her lap, running lazy fingers up her thigh as if Vi had never been there at all.

Vi clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look away.

Caitlyn noticed. "Vi?"

Vi exhaled sharply. "Nothing."

Caitlyn followed her gaze, her brows drawing together as she spotted the woman Vi had been staring at. There was a pause, and then realization dawned in Caitlyn’s expression.

"Oh," she said softly.

Vi turned away, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets. "Come on. Let’s go."

Caitlyn hesitated, studying Vi for a moment before nodding. She didn’t ask questions. She never did when Vi wasn’t ready to talk.

As they walked away, Vi didn’t look back.

But fuck—she wanted to.

THE NEXT NIGHT – THE LAST DROP

Vi didn’t drink much anymore. She tried to keep her head clear, to avoid falling back into old habits. But tonight, she found herself nursing a bottle of cheap Zaunite whiskey at the back of The Last Drop, her head buzzing.

She told herself it wasn’t about her.

Except it was.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way she had looked at her—like Vi was nothing. Like what they had meant nothing.

She told herself that was what she wanted. That she had done the right thing by leaving.

Then why the fuck did it hurt?

A chair scraped against the floor, and before she could register it, someone was sitting across from her. Vi blinked, forcing herself to focus.

It was the blonde girl.

The one who had been sitting in her lap.

Vi tensed instantly, her fingers curling around the bottle. The girl just smirked, resting her chin on her palm as she studied Vi with sharp, assessing eyes.

"You’re Vi," she said, voice smooth like smoke.

Vi’s jaw ticked. "Who’s asking?"

The girl chuckled, tapping her nails against the wooden table. "Relax. I just wanted to see what was so special about you."

Vi frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The blonde tilted her head. "She doesn’t talk about you. Ever. But I see it, you know? The way her eyes go dark when someone mentions your name. The way she shuts down when someone asks about her past."

Vi swallowed, forcing herself to stay still.

The girl leaned forward, her smirk widening. "I don’t think she’s forgiven you."

Vi exhaled slowly. "Good."

That seemed to amuse her. "Is that what you wanted?"

Vi looked away, staring down at the amber liquid in her glass. "I wanted her to move on."

The girl hummed. "Well, congratulations. She has."

Vi knew that. She had seen it with her own eyes. She had seen the way she had smiled at her, touched her. And still, it felt like a knife to the chest hearing it out loud.

The blonde stood, smoothing down her dress. "You look like you regret it."

Vi scoffed, taking another sip of her drink. "What do you want me to say?"

The girl shrugged, a knowing glint in her eye. "Doesn’t matter to me. Just figured I’d confirm what I already knew."

She turned to leave but hesitated. Then, with a smirk over her shoulder, she added, "She’s happy now, Vi. Try not to fuck with that."

Vi didn’t say anything as she walked away.

She just stared down at her drink, the words echoing in her head.

A WEEK LATER – BACK IN PILTOVER

Vi didn’t talk about that night. Didn’t mention it to Caitlyn, didn’t bring it up at all. But something in her felt different. Heavier.

She had told herself she had done the right thing.

But now, watching her move on, seeing her happy without her, Vi realized something she hadn’t let herself admit before.

She had lost her.

And it was all her fault.

[dixons-sunshine]

I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader

Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.

Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.

Word count: 3.9k.

A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.

Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.

“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”

Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”

You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”

“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”

Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.

She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”

Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.

“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”

Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.

“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”

You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”

Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”

You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.

“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”

“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”

“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”

“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”

“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”

The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.

Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”

Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.

“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.

However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.

“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”

“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.

“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”

Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.

You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”

Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”

Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.

And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.

“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”

“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”

At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.

Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. “You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”

Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.

You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.

“Night,” he whispered.

“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”

Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.

You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.

“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.

“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.

“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”

Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god.”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.

“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.

Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.

“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.

You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.

Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”

You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”

You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.

“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.

You nodded at him. “Sure.”

“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”

You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.

“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”

“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”

“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”

“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”

As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.

“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”

Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”

Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”

You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.

“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”

You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.

“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.

She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.

With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:

You had feelings for him.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”

You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”

Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”

The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences.  Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.

“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”

Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.

“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”

Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.

“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”

In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.

“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”

Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.

“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”

Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.

Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.

[ichigo-plasma]

Let Me Us Help You

Milgram ❤︎ Haruka Sakurai x Reader x Mikoto Kayano

Synopsis: Haruka has had a crush on you ever since he met you in Milgram but he never had an example of a healthy relationship growing up so he isn’t sure how to confess. He gets the help of one of the few adults he trusts, Mikoto. But after watching Haruka stumble over his words humiliating himself while he confessed to you, Orekoto/John decides the blue hair boy needs a push.~

On the menu: yandere, smut, multiple personalities (John referred to as Orekoto but I might change that), non-con~❤︎, one swear word (Orekoto is angyyy), kinda-poly if you squint (but Orekoto and Haruka don’t get each other off…), uhhhh manhandling, double penetration?, just yummy smut~~~, Orekoto is freaky af (but it’s hot so he is forgiven), Haruka lied about his age, he is actually an adult, uhh Orekoto is also toxic and rude, reader is referred to with fem pronouns

Guide: Smut only starts after the pink hearts ❤︎❤︎❤︎ you can stop there to skip smut.

A/N: I added a BONUS next day AFTERMATH! Where Mikoto comes back and doesn’t remember anything his other personality did!

Amongst the prisoners in Milgram, you were different. You were the first to notice Haruka. First to talk to him. Asked him simple things—Did you eat today? Do you need help with that?—things no one else bothered to ask.

The attention was addicting.

The way your voice softened when you spoke to him. The way you didn’t laugh when he fumbled with tying his shoes or struggled with writing his name. The way you always waited for him. The way you forgave his crimes, seeing his regret…

You weren’t just nice.

You were perfect.

Soon, Haruka found himself watching you more than he should. Memorizing your schedule around the prison. Finding excuses to be near you. Walking the same prison hallways you did, sitting at tables where he knew you’d pass by. Even when you weren’t looking, he was always there—lurking in the background, watching from the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat whenever you smiled.

You were perfect for him. Even if you thought your we’re doing nothing more than showing simple kindness due to the scary circumstances in Milgram, he saw it as way more.

He needed to make you his but he had no idea how to confess. He never saw his parents get along well in a loving relationship so he had no example of how it worked. So he went to one of the adults in Milgram he thought might know how to help.

“Just t-tell her…?” Haruka’s face burned as he fidgeted with the hem of his oversized prison uniform sleeves, avoiding Mikoto’s amused gaze.

The older guy leaned against the wall of the prison common area, arms crossed, watching Haruka with a smile. “Yeah, Haru-kun. You like her, don’t you? Then tell her.”

Haruka squirmed. “B-But what if she s-says no?”

Mikoto chuckled. “Then you have to accept that. I’m sure you two can still be friends!”

Haruka paled like the idea was unthinkable. “B-But I—”

Mikoto sighed, ruffling Haruka’s hair like an older brother. “Listen, Haru-kun. Confessing isn’t about making her say yes. It’s about being honest. If she doesn’t feel the same, then that’s how it is.”

Haruka bit his lip, eyes darting away. That’s NOT an option. You had to feel the same. You had to.

Still, he nodded, pretending to take Mikoto’s advice to heart. “O-Okay… I’ll try it.”

Mikoto grinned. “Atta boy.”

It was supposed to be romantic…

Haruka had practiced in front of his rabbit plush a hundred times in his cell—how he’d stand tall, how he’d look you in the eyes, how he’d say your name in a deep, confident voice.

None of that happened.

Instead, he was a stuttering, shaky mess.

“I-I—I w-wanted to s-say—”

You blinked at him, tilting your head in confusion. “Haruka? Are you okay?”

Oh god. You looked worried. Not flustered. Not excited. Worried.

Haruka’s breath hitched. This wasn’t going right. This wasn’t going right at all.

From around the corner, Mikoto crouched and watched, his expression twitching with secondhand embarrassment. “Oh, my—!” His fingers scratching through his scalp in stress. “Haru-kun, you’re killing me here…”

Suddenly a flicker of something dark passed over Mikoto’s face.

Then he stilled and closed his eyes.

When his eyes opened again, they weren’t the same, the previous gleam lower in his pupil.

A smirk curled at his lips, his posture shifting into something far more domineering. “Tch. You really can’t do anything right, huh, Haru-kun? That’s ok, I’ll help you out.”

This wasn’t going to be just Mikoto helping anymore.

Before you could process what was happening, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you flush against a broad chest. The scent of Mikoto’s usual cologne was still there—but something in his demeanor was off.

It was oddly aggressive compared to the Mikoto you’d known. And it was terrifyingly forceful.

Your breath hitched. “Mikoto—?”

“Tch-” Orekoto mouthed in annoyance. His arm around you tightened, his smirk widening as he turned to Haruka, who was staring in shock and embarrassment. “You were taking too long, so I decided to help out Haru-kun.”

Haruka’s lips trembled. “B-But—”

Orekoto rolled his eyes. “What? You wanted her, didn’t you?” His fingers trailed along your shoulder, making you shiver. “Then take her.”

You tensed, trying to figure out if this was some prank the two men were playing on you. “W-Wait—”

Orekoto ignored you, his grip on your wrist tightening as he started walking. “Come on. We need somewhere private for you two, come one Haru-kun.”

Haruka hesitated for half a second before following, his heart hammering in his chest. His confession hadn’t gone the way he planned.

But maybe… maybe this was better. He couldn’t help the shy grin he had as he followed behind Orekoto and your smaller body being pulled along.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

With a sudden, forceful motion, Orekoto grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards Haruka’s prison cell. He threw open the door and shoved you inside, causing you to stumble and fall backwards onto the narrow prison mattress.

"Mikoto, what are you- ah!" Your protest turned into a gasp as he crawled over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Be quiet!" he said, his voice a low, dominant growl. One of his hands released your wrist to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Right now, I'm going to help Haruka claim what's his. I'm going to teach that fucking virgin exactly how to make a girl feel good."

Haruka stood nervously at the foot of the mattress, his cheeks flushed a deep, mortified red as he watched Orekoto manhandle you. His hands fidgeted and twisted on hem of his uniform, unsure of what to do with himself.

"M-Mikoto, is this okay?" Haruka asked, his voice small and hesitant. "Aren't you being a little too rough with Y/N?"

Orekoto shot Haruka an exasperated glare over his shoulder. "Rough?! Haruka! Do you want her or not?!?! Earlier you were a blabbering mess and she couldn’t take you seriously. You need to assert yourself, show her that she belongs to you."

Turning his attention back to you, Orekoto gripped the bottom of your top and yanked it up and off in one swift motion, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the Milgram prison cell. His calloused hands skimmed over your flesh, leaving tingles in their wake.

"First things first," he purred, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. "Get her worked up. Touch her like she's the only thing that matters. Like she's your whole world."

Haruka took a small step closer to the mattress, his eyes wide and uncertain as he reached out a shaking hand to cup your breast. He squeezed softly, marveling at the supple weight of it in his palm.

"L-Like this? Mikoto? Is this right?" Haruka asked, his voice pitching higher with nervousness. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

Orekoto smirked as he watched Haruka's hand explore you. "Not bad Haruka. Now, don't be shy. Really touch her," he growled, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "I want to see you slide your fingers inside her tight little cunt. Get her dripping wet and desperate for your cock."

Haruka's breath hitched at the crude words, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. With a shakey nod, he trailed his hand down your stomach, his fingertips dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel the heat from your core showing how ready you were.

"I-I'm going to put my fingers inside now, Y/N... Okay?" Haruka said, his voice barely audible. He hooked his fingers into the side of your panties and tugged them down your legs, baring your glistening sex to his hungry gaze.

Orekoto grunted in annoyance. "Stop asking for permission, Haruka. Take what you want. Claim her."

With a deep breath, Haruka pressed a finger against your slick folds, feeling your wetness coat his digit. He slowly pushed forward, watching in awe as your tight walls stretched to accommodate him. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan at the incredible feeling of your silky heat enveloping his finger.

"Y-Y/N... you're so tight," Haruka gasped, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your clenching sex. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you open as he curled them inside you, stroking along your inner walls.

Your back arched off the mattress, a loud moan escaping your lips as Haruka's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"That's it, Y/N. Take his fingers like the needy little slut you are," Orekoto taunted, his voice a dark, dominant growl. He could see how close you were to the edge, could tell your body was tensing and quivering with impending release. "But don't you dare come. Not yet."

Haruka looked at you with wide, worried eyes, his fingers stilling inside you.

Orekoto's eyes flashed with dark intent as he watched you teetering on the brink of climax, your velvety walls clenching desperately around Haruka's buried fingers. He could see the needy, almost painful desire etched into every line of your body, and it only fueled his own growing arousal.

“Stop," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative bark. Haruka froze, his fingers still knuckle-deep inside your fluttering sex. "Don't let her come, Haruka. Not yet. You need to mark her first, claim her as yours properly."

Haruka whimpered, he felt his dick twitching in his pants, holding back his own desperate need. With shaking hands, he withdrew his fingers from your dripping core, ignoring your whines. He fumbled with the fastenings of his pants, his cock already straining against the confines, eager for freedom.

"I-I need to...I need to put it in, Y/N?" Haruka asked, his voice high with nerves and anticipation. His cock sprang free as soon as he tugged down his pants and underwear, slapping against his stomach. It was flushed a deep, angry red, the tip super leaky with need.

Orekoto smirked at the virgin Haruka struggling to hold back his desperation. "Yes, Haruka. Claim her cunt. Bury yourself inside her and don't stop until she's overflowing with your seed. Until everyone knows she belongs to you."

Haruka nodded, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping through your slick folds to catch on your opening. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and pleading. Though he kept hesitating… afraid to hurt you…

"I-I'm going to...AH!" Haruka gasped.

Growing impatient with Haruka's hesitant pace, Orekoto had moved over to behind Haruka and placed his hands on the small of Haruka's back, pushing the nervous boy forward so he smashed into you. The force of Orekoto's actions drove Haruka's cock deep into your tight channel, forcing you to stretch to take in his girth.

"A-Aah! W-Wait..." Haruka gasped, his eyes widening at the sudden tightness of your walls.

“Shut up and fuck her already," Orekoto growled, his hands gripping Haruka's hips tightly as he helped to drive the boy's movements.

Once he started to get a pace going for himself and Orekoto slowly backed away. Haruka could feel the way your velvety walls gripped and fluttered while his cock split you open.

"Don't hold back. Ravage her cunt until she can't walk straight. Until she's dripping with your cum and everyone knows she belongs to you." Orekoto instructed.

Orekoto's dominant words spurred Haruka on, and he began to move with more urgency, his hips slapping against yours as he drove his cock in and out of your dripping sex. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small Milgram prison cell, mingling with your needy moans and Haruka's increasingly desperate panting. Thankfully everyone else was enjoying their food in the dining area and had no idea what was happening in prisoner 001’s cell.

To keep you from trying to get away, Orekoto reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with a grip that was just shy of painful. He leaned down, his lips curling into a smirk, his breath hot against your skin. "That's it, take Haruka’s cock like a good little slut. Don't you dare try to run away from Haruka's dick."

Haruka moved his hips slamming against yours with increasing force. The head of his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust.

Watching the erotic scene unfold before him, Orekoto couldn't help but grow harder by the second. The sight of your restrained form writhing on the prison mattress, impaled on Haruka's desperate cock, was almost too much to bear. He could see the tears of pleasure streaking down your face, hear your needy moans and cries as Haruka pistoned in and out of your soaked cunt.

With a low, almost feral growl, Orekoto reached down and freed his own aching erection from the confines of his pants. It sprang out, long, hard, and already leaking with need. He grasped your chin with his free hand, turning your head to face him as he tapped the leaking crown of his cock against your tear-stained cheek.

"Open your mouth, slut," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Put that pretty little mouth to work."

As if in a trance from the undeniable pleasure, you parted your lips, allowing Orekoto to slip his thick length into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the head, lapping up the salty essence leaking from the tip. Orekoto groaned at the sensation, his fingers tightening in your hair as he began to slowly thrust his hips, fucking your face with shallow pumps of his cock.

The lewd slurping sounds of the blowjob seemed to drive Haruka wild, spurring him to pick up the pace of his own thrusts. He pounded into you with renewed vigor, the force of his movements causing your body to slide up the mattress with every snap of his hips. The new angle allowed him to drive his cock even deeper, the thick length kissing your womb with every pass.

Haruka's breathing grew ragged and shallow, his rhythm faltering as he rapidly approached his peak. With a strangled cry, he slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of his seed painted your insides, filling you with his essence as he shook and shuddered above you.

“Y/N! I love you so much! You always gave me attention and I haven’t been able to get out you out of my mind. I won’t let you leave me or deny me ever. I only need you and you only need me!” Haruka whined as he came.

The feeling of Haruka's cock pulsing and throbbing inside you, pumping you full of his cum, was enough to push you over the edge as well. Your inner muscles clamped down around him like a vice, milking every last drop of his release as your own intense orgasm crashed upon you and you passed out.

Orekoto groaned low in his throat, the erotic sight of you and Haruka lost in passion pushing him over the edge of his own release. He yanked his throbbing cock from your slack mouth, aiming it at your face as thick, hot ropes of his seed erupted from the tip. Pearly strands of cum painted your unconscious cheek, marking you as a possession, a toy of their shared use.

With a satisfied grunt, Orekoto wiped the last drops of his essence from his softening cock, smearing the excess over the swell of your breast. He tucked himself back into his pants with a smirk, the evidence of his debauchery written all over your peaceful, sleeping face.

Turning to Haruka, who was still buried to the hilt inside your limp form, Orekoto patted his shoulder. "You did well, Haru-kun. I'm happy you were able to confess your feelings to Y/N. If you ever need any more…’help’…with your relationship in the future, don't hesitate to come to me. I’m sure I will gladly be able to help you again."

Haruka looked up at Orekoto, his face flushed and glowing with happiness. He couldn't stop smiling, reveling in the knowledge that you were finally, truly his. "Thank you Mikoto" he said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

With a satisfied nod, Orekoto turned and walked out of Haruka’s cell, leaving you and Haruka alone together in the aftermath of your shared arousal. As the door swung shut behind him, Haruka curled his body around yours protectively, holding you close as you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

BONUS Next Day!:

The next day, Mikoto woke up in his own cell as he blinked awake with a soft yawn, his mind foggy and confused like he had forgotten something... He could feel a strange, unfamiliar dampness in his pants, and he wiggled uncomfortably on the mattress in his cell.

Rising from his mattress, Mikoto stretched and got himself out of bed. He went to brush his teeth and got on a fresh pair of pants and underwear deciding to discard the previous wet ones embarrassed that Es or Jackolope might comment if they saw the obvious wet patch during an interrogation.

Mikoto decided to head to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. He made his way out of his cell and towards the communal dining area.

As Mikoto entered the dining area, he spotted Haruka sitting alone at a table, snacking on a fluffy mound of cotton candy.

"Hey there, Haru-kun! Mind if I join you?" Mikoto asked in his usual cheerful tone as he approached the table where Haruka sat, completely oblivious to what his other personality had done the previous night. He pulled out a chair setting down his tray and sat down across from Haruka.

Haruka's head shot up at the sound of Mikoto's voice, his eyes wide and anxious. He seemed to tremble slightly, a flicker of uncertainty and guilt in his expression. It was clear that he was wondering whether Mikoto remembered the details of their shared encounter with you the previous night.

"U-Um, h-hello Mikoto..." Haruka stammered nervously. "You... you want to sit with me?"

Mikoto tilted his head in confusion at his nervous voice. "Huh? Of course, Haruka. Why wouldn't I want to sit with you?" he asked with a soft chuckle. "We're friends, aren't we? By the way how did your confession with Y/N go yesterday?"

Haruka told him it went fine and you accepted thanks to his… advice. And Mikoto hummed satisfied with himself, having no clue of what Orekoto had forced upon you, or the role he had played in your defilement…

Now your sleeping body is hidden, tucked under the blankets of the mattress in Haruka’s cell hugging his rabbit plush, for him to now be able to enjoy all of your attention.

A/N: YANDERE HARUKA SAKURAI. KINDA POLY MIKOTO KAYANO. OREKOTO IS FREAKY. MORE MILGRAM SMUT SINCE NO ONE WANTS TO WRITE IT. Like serrrrrriously we have a series about criminalsssss and noooo one wants to write dark content? Fine. I will make it.

[nanamiluvs]

hiii luv ur writing^^!!

i was wondering if you could write some wriothesley x chubby reader... insisting she's too heavy to sit on his face despite him urging her to do it and that it'll be fine,, eventually getting tired of her excuses and grabbing her thighs to pull her down onto his face

thanks for asking and tysm! wriothesley would def do that and he would beg you to sit on his face. also, honestly i think wriothesley is the type to prefer chubby and/or muscular bodies, he just views it as more meat for him to bite. he has a large body as well, so yeah.

pairing : wriothesley x chubby!reader

rating : explicit

wc : 850

warnings : reader is afab but no pronouns used, wriothesley calls reader "angel" and "doll", wriothesley is desperate, reader is a bit insecure about their weight, face sitting, oral (f receiving), wriothesley eats pussy like no other, slight dirty talk, i mean how can he talk much when his face is stuffed with pussy

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

wriothesley who wants you to sit on his face, you who thinks you're too heavy for that. he begs to differ.

wriothesley who tells you that he wants you to sit on his face.

wriothesley who pouts for a moment when you tell him no. it's okay, really, he would never force you to do something you don't want to. he just doesn't understand what exactly makes you uncomfortable with the idea, and wriothesley is a curious man when it comes to you.

but come on, how could he know that you thought you'd be too heavy for him? for him, for wriothesley who could throw weights twice as heavy as you around with ease? and wasn't your thighs crushing his face and your pussy suffocating him the entire point?

wriothesley who mentions the idea again later on, and this time, you agree to do it. it'll be fine, you think, you'll just rest your weight on your legs and he will also get to have what he wants. if he had a tail, you know it'd be wagging behind his back by the way his smile widens.

wriothesley who's just thrilled to finally have you on top of him, your wet heat hovering above his face. his dick is aching in his pants, purposefully left clothed so he can feel how much it wants you.

wriothesley who looks up at you weirdly after a few seconds, and you think that's it. he regrets it all.

"you want me to starve here? come on, doll, sit, no backing down now." he grins, his breath hitting you from how close his face was to your cunt. his rough hands caress your plush thighs as he playfully bites the inside of your thighs, pressing a kiss right after, waiting for you to properly sit.

you gulp. "i am sitting though..?" you lower yourself a bit more, pretending like you're placing your entire weight on him. "is this better?"

"nah, not really, but..." his eyes now stare into yours in a more serious manner. were you uncomfortable with him? you seemed like you were in doubt. "love, if you don't want to, you don't have to, i'm not-"

"i-i want to, but..." he pauses for a moment as you part your lips, listening to what you have to say. "i can't just sit on you! i would...crush your face, probably."

wriothesley who raises his eyebrows at your words. "yeah?"

you want to escape his gaze yet his eyes hold you in like a prisoner.

wriothesley who listens to you babble about some nonsense. i'm too heavy, it'd be a turn off for you, it's embarrassing, blah, blah, blah.

wriothesley who takes it as a challenge and simply grabs your legs and pulls you onto his face with a shriek, your entire weight pressing down on him. your pussy is met with his eager mouth and your clit presses against the tip of his nose, making your legs go numb for a few moments. "w-wrio, you!" you call out, shy as his tongue delves between your folds to lap up your slick like it's the last thing he ever wants to taste. he groans against your cunt at your taste, the vibrations making you grab his hair and press yourself harder on his face.

he grins in response, your skin feeling every movement of his. he moans into your pussy when you tug on his hair, all your thoughts about insecurities thrown out the window with the way you push yourself down on him. his hands grab your thighs firmly, wrapping them around his head as he kept pressing you down on him. his tongue pushes in at your hole after sucking in your clit harshly, "mmh, so-" he mumbles, and you swear you see stars by the way the sound vibrates through your body, "so wet for me, doll-"

wriothesley whose dick throbs, stretching against the tight fabric of his undergarments, begging to fill you to the brim. his hips thrust into the air in want, in need, desperate for some friction as he feasted on you. he knows you're close as you start grinding against his mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out and licking your folds as his nose presses against your clit. his hold on your body was still firm as ever, only tightening as he gets more into it. he sucks in your clit as the waves of pleasure wash over your body and you cum on his face, his greedy mouth licking up everything he can.

he lifts his hands and you back up, checking to see if he was okay.

wriothesley who fucking smirks at you from below, breathless and half of his face drenched and glistening with your juices. "how unfortunate," he says as he pulls you down once again, "make sure to break my neck this time."

[cyberchronics]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

wriothesley + aphrodisiacs ♡♡

he's always prepared for whatever trouble you plan on causing while visiting him at the Fortress. toys? almost too easy to deal with. a sexy outfit? it only makes him wish he could take it off. restraints? don't make him laugh. he'll wear a collar like a badge of honor let you use his handcuffs.

but for whatever reason, he never expected you to be this sneaky. his cup of tea is barely halfway finished before the effects wash over him, making his body grow weak as he slowly recognizes the feeling. his underwear grows tighter and a stifled groan slips past reddened lips as his glass is set on the table.

he knew buying you that pyro regisvine nectar would come back to bite him in the ass.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Every visit to Meropide starts the same. Wriothesley greeting you with a kiss on cheek and escorting you to his office, allowing you past all the security checks without so much as a patdown or walking through a single metal detector. That's how you always manage to sneak in things that has no business being a prison.

He never regrets it, of course. It's the highlight of his day when you find a new way to get him horny and pinned against his desk, ink spilling over once more and ruining hours worth of paperwork.

Today, you managed to sneak an aphrodisiac in his drink at tea time. He doesn't know how he didn't see you pour it in, nor how the cheeky smile on your face didn't alert him. But that's the least of his concern as he slowly ruts against the thigh pinning him in place. He's practically begging for your touch like this, drool spilling past his lips and soaking into his tie.

"Mmph... please, baby." Every movement is achingly slow to Wriothesley. He hates when your skin isn't on his, wishing you would just rip off his clothes instead of slowly unbuttoning each article like he was a delicate doll. You know he can take the rough treatment, he thinks, just give him what he wants.

He's laid out prettily on his desk, papers crinkled under the curve of his ass while his legs dangle off the edge. The tuft of hair at the base of his cock is shining, soaked in fluid as your fingers wrap around the shaft. He bucks up into the warmth blindly, glad that this isn't a punishment as he throws his head back.

Spilling into your hand once isn't nearly enough for him. In fact, he feels as if he'll never be satisfied again as his hips keep going desperately. His cock slaps against his stomach as you let it go, the whine in his throat slipping out as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body on top of his own. Wriothesley's words are slurred as he whispers into your ear.

"I know you did this to me... take responsibility."

And so you do.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

a/n: def didn't forget about ktober.... also wrio is so bad im def writing more for him

[the-invisibility-bloke]

001 Sirius/Harry

Have a nice day😃

Oh you're gonna regret this. XD (But I hope you have a nice day too!)

When I started shipping it if I did: 2004? I think they were my first HP ship.

My thoughts: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

What makes me happy about them: THEY SAVE EACH OTHER'S LIVES ON THEIR FIRST AND LAST NIGHTS TOGETHER, RESPECTIVELY. TELL ME ANYTHING MORE ROMANTIC THAN THAT. Also, found family in a sense, but better yet, they were given to each other by James and Lily, and their chemistry from the very beginning is everything, they are so utterly devoted to each other, so thrilled to be in each other's lives, so love-starved and touch-starved, they are each other's links to their past as well as each other's hope for the future. All they want is to care for each other, it's so fucking beautiful it hurts, and the reason it's so fucking hot and just the right amount of sweetly toxic is because they have no fucking boundaries, Harry was raised in abject neglect (so was Sirius, in his own way) and Sirius spent those years in prison so they suffered on parallel timelines and now here they are, a collision of orbits, perfect complements, where Harry was forced to grow up too fast and Sirius' life stopped at 21 so the power imbalance is skewed and fucky and all the lines get blurred because they simply need so desperately, the hunger and yearning, but also the fact they just get each other. They tick each other's boxes, fill all the voids, the need to protect, to be protected, and it's no secret this man was Harry's sexual awakening, a not-father figure but the first man to step up and fill those role model shoes, with his tattoos and his recklessness and his general sexiness/coolness making him unlike any adult who's ever shown Harry affection, not to mention the yummy angst of Past Prongsfoot™, so extra guilt for Sirius there, but more significantly, he very quickly comes to see Harry as his own person. I think he's the first one to see that the similarities to James are less than the differences, and more beautiful for that, and I think it would be a bit terrifying for him to realize he's fallen for Harry as himself and not as a replacement, because now he has no excuse, he can't write it off as an inevitability of loving James. ...Anyway.

What makes me sad about them: HE FUCKING DIES.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I'd share in DMs, but as someone with the world's lowest self esteem, I never want to discourage anyone from writing what they love.

Things I look for in fanfic: I love canon-compliant or canon-adjacent, desperation and codependency, Harry being first ashamed and afraid of rejection, then when he knows he's got him, shameless about what he wants. I love Sirius being tortured by his own guilt until the explosive breaking point where he loses all self control. OOTP era is my favorite because they're in close physical proximity and there are Opportunities, okay, OPPORTUNITIES. Late-night fireside chats (snogs), Harry slipping into Sirius' room under pretense of nightmares, come on, it fucking writes itself. I'll read the occasional Sirius Lives (just wrote one, in fact), but part of me kinda loves that he dies, because it enables all my OTPs to exist in tandem, case in point...

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Sirius? No one. He's gone for that boy and he dies loving him. But 20 years later, Harry falls for Teddy and is wracked with the most delicious guilt. Is he projecting the godfather-godson dynamic he so brutally lost with Sirius? (No, but the guilt is fun!) I also like the premise of Harry and Draco falling into each other post-divorce, better late than never, but after a lifetime of competing for Teddy's attention, godfather vs cousin, turns out the boy's kind of in love with them both, so H/D/T OT3 is my jam.

My happily ever after for them: Sirius lives, obviously. But I want to write a fic where, after the war, Harry obsessively dedicates himself to working out the mysteries of the veil and getting Sirius back. He succeeds some 20 years later, right after he finally decides to leave the past behind and embrace the present, where his own lovely godson has been madly in love with him for years. So basically he gets Sirius back right after he and Teddy begin a relationship, thus it ends up Sirry+Teddy OT3, but this is where multishipping hits a brick wall because what about Draco. OT4?

who is the big spoon/little spoon: I'm dully traditional and default to whoever's bigger (Sirius), but I think they wake up fairly often with Harry clinging to his back, all nestled in like a cute little parasite.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Motorbike rides, pickup Quidditch, Muggle video games, and I think they like to travel. Harry never did, growing up, and after all those years in Azkaban... yeah. Gay cross-gen wizards take on the world.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Caught ☆ Spider! Choso x Reader | Kinktober Day 29

Summary: The itsy-bitsy spider went up your waterspout. Down came the rain and turned the spider on. Up came the climax, and tightened up all the spout, and the itsy-bitsy spider takes you once again.

Word Count: 692

Tags: Rope Bondage, One Shot, Fingerfucking, Restraints, Non-Consensual Bondage, Bondage, Spiders, Human/Monster Romance

This is what you get for being in places you have no business being in. Strung up in a very exposed manner in front of an overly large arachnid that also was seemingly a hot man. You don’t even remember the exact thing that got you into this mess, and there's no point in thinking about it when you're about to be eaten. You pull on the webs, and they aren't budging. 

Welp, the only regret you have is not writing down a will, so the people you didn’t like in your close enough bloodline could get nothing. You're not even sure that's how wills work, you've never died before and this would be your first. You were so in your head that you didn't notice when the webs started to shake and your captor was crawling to you. 

You try to crane your neck to see, but it's too hard to move it without feeling like you might break it. This situation was not it no matter how hot the creature now standing in front of you was. 

Hot he was, if not for the creepy spider bits. The human half of him had messy pigtails that kept his dark hair from being in the way. He has 5 eyes that seem to take up the space of his forehead.  As he inches closer you can see the seams of his face alluding to a hingable mouth. Then the most obvious part was the two sets of mandibles he has, the first coming out of the human mouth and being smaller than the others being much larger and coming from his face seams.  His eyes had heavy purple bags under them and he handed a long mark over his nose.

For the part, you were more unsettled about his actual other half. The part that's all spider that is. It was basically if you saw a spider in Australia and made the biggest one there ten times bigger. It causes an awkward chill down your spine. He, at least you're assuming by human half that it is in fact he was just staring down at you. All eyes are on you, making you feel small.

He crawled closer to you and your anxiety shot through the roof. He spit acid from his mouth dissolving your pants. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you tensed up in your webbed prison. Even if you were free it still wouldn’t help at all. The acid burned, not like how you expected acid to burn, to make your flesh bubble and melt off. Not that it was more like the exact moment when you’re sitting out under the sun and regret not putting on sunscreen.

He pulled off the melted remains of your pants and discarded them elsewhere. As he circled around the outside of your hole.

“Ah! Why are you doing this,” he pushed two of his slender fingers into your hole and you tense up a little. He watched your face contort a little, which he seemed to enjoy. 

You try to squirm and all that does is wiggle the webs holding you down a little but it helps none when it comes to pushing our pulling away from the arachne. He mutters something under his breath that couldn’t hear all that well. 

“What was that?” You huff out as he starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of your entrance. 

“Because I want to,” he scissors his fingers out inside of you and stretches you out. 

You were holding back moans and pants as he was fingering you. It feels good and you hate to admit but he was hitting all the right spots.  It made you feel like you could climax on this alone even if you would prefer some other stimulation elsewhere. 

He thrust his thrust into You at a steady pace and your insides try to pull him in deeper and squeeze around his digits. His other hand continues to pump in and out of your warm, channel, making sure that you know exactly who is in control here. 

After all, you were caught in his web.

[paeliae-occasionally]

Hello! Intro Post.

Hi, so I’ve been hanging around for a while now, but I have recently started posting more so I have decided to write an intro.

Online I go by Pae, (or Pae pae) I am non-binary. (they/them) and I write and draw.

Current WIPs

Blue Posts are the essentials of you want to send me an ask , or if you just want an intro to the blog.

Pink are my personal favourites.

I’m doing 12 days of Christmas asks here!

Scenes

Memory and death

Marsh Prison scene

Lore stuff:

Magic

Magic Systems

The history of the runes

More runes lore

Culture

The mages immortality lore

The death realms

The gardens

Languages

The Druids

The Mulai’Kaleppi

The Opyri

The Tiel’Drysar

(More Necromancy)

The lighthouse keepers

Laith’Zairel

Gods Culture

History

The blood wars

Blood wars 2

The mist war

The Separation, Dissolution and Accords

Maps

-Laith’Emeris 1

-Laith’Emeris 2

-30BD map

-Laith’Zairel

-How I make maps (continents)

Join the Tag List~

Summaries:

Paeliae - Magic politician

A mage living in the period when the god vs mages war starts. (8 BD, before dissolution) He is a politician, despite having no patience for the ages old elvish mages who currently run the council. He is obsessed with leaving a lasting legacy even if that means dying today. As such he is vehemently against the concept of immortality, During the war he helps negotiate with the gods to come to a truce. 27, He/Him.

Xaeren - Runic Inventor

Xaeren designed 42 of the 47 runes and uses them to protect himself from the vengeful goddess Schaeres. When she finally attacks him, Xaeren realises there were very few limits to what he could do with the runes and sets out to kill Schaeres, both as payback and just to prove that he can. But some things can’t be done alone…

Xaeren lore 1

Xaeren lore 2- (This is a bit old so some of the Kell stuff has changed)

Xaeren lore 3

Kell - Magic Student

Xaeren rescues her from a small dock town and gets her a place at the Lysandri school of magic. Kell is thrust into a world of magic and has to keep up with the help of Xaeren’s tutoring, but as she begins to fit in with the mages there, her loyalty to the criminal godkiller Xaeren comes into question.

Tyro - Traumatised Sorcerer

lives in the modern day (about 1500 PD, post-dissolution). They have recently escaped from the abusive cult that adopted them as a child, with their adoptive brother Apollo. They are a sorcerer, so have born magic, but also we’re taught to use runes by the cult. They never used them because of trauma but they could if they wanted to. They are currently running from the cult and trying not to be noticed by the government, who take in all sorcerer children so they can have a monopoly on magic. They have found a family in some other sorcerers living in an abandoned manor outside the city. 17, They/them

Apollo - adopted older brother of Tyro.

He took care of them and the others in the cult, despite being abused severely himself. Despite the trauma he is a very powerful runic. He is currently being attacked by, and looking for other cults like the one he was adopted into to help other children like him. 21, He/They

Ez and Rin (~1000 BD)- The gay bois, who definitely don’t start the apocalypse.

Ez (short for Ezemhaziel) is the god of refined magic. He falls in love with Rin when he is researching to create the runes. He is somewhat of a Prometheus figure, as he brings the first magic to mortals by teaching Rin.

Rin is a gardener working for one of the altic kings, who equally loves Ez for his magic and creativity. Ez and Rin end up working on the runes together. The other gods get mad that Ez gave magic to a mortal, and they let the mortals murder Rin. Ez is mad. This will spiral and cause the start of the godly war, which then ushers in the godly mages war, where 3/4 of all mages die and the gods are removed from the world.

Ezemhaziel lore

Daimion and Marsh - the regretful and the merry murderer

Daimion and marsh grew up together being trained for an elite military unit, which they both got into. While in the unit they are ordered to fire on civilians and they do it, but later Daimion regrets killing innocents and leaves the unit without notice. He goes on to find the daughter of one of the people he murdered that day and the woman who has been taking care of her. He protects them fiercely and tries to make up for what he did. Marsh however, fully commits to the ‘I kill people as a job, I might as well enjoy it’ and ends up being so recklessly violent that he is imprisoned in the highest security jail in the country, which he later breaks out of to commit a massacre, then returns to his cell like nothing happened. This occurs a couple of times until Daimion has to go get him. - Marsh intro - Marsh lore

Just a brief overview of some of the things I am currently working on. I plan to post more about the magic systems and historical events of the world. I also post maps.

Feel free to ask me about this, and tag me in games. Interact here to join the tag list:

Tag List~

Thanks for visiting, feel free to stick around <3

[twohearts-hs]

Defying The Odds: 12 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 2.8k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

Synopsis: Y/N was a victim of the mob since the age of fifteen, however, falling in love with the wrong guy and having an argument got her 25 years in prison for murder. She had a plan to get out in faith of her husband until she met Michael Scofield, who, despite his plan, fell in love with her. Now she has the mob and Michael Scofield's escape to worry about.

Warnings: Swearing, Prison, Intimacy, Murder, etc. you know the deal...

A/N: this is a complete series of ~105k words. Based on Season 1 & 2.

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

The prison yard was buzzing with the usual activity, but Y/N felt out of place, her mind swirling with guilt. She was supposed to be doing PI work in the yard. But all she could think about was Dr. Remington. The weight of her manipulation pressed down on her, crushing her insides. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to push the thoughts away when she noticed Michael approaching.

         “Did you do it?” Michael’s voice was low, a sharp edge of urgency. “Did you tell Remington about the plan?”

         Y/N glanced at him, guilt seeping into her expression. She wanted to lie, to protect herself, but her heart was heavier than it had ever been. She sighed, her voice weak. “I don’t know. He slammed the door in my face.”

         She turned, walking away from Michael as the doubt and regret washed over her. This was supposed to be her fresh start, a way to escape everything – the mob, Sebastian, her old life and murders. Instead, she felt she was back to her old habits, pulling strings, manipulating people, and causing harm…she might as well murder someone and write her note in lipstick.

         Michael caught up with her again, sensing her turmoil. “Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

         She stopped, biting her lip as she looked at him, tears threatening to surface. “I promised myself...I promised myself I wouldn’t manipulate or play with an innocent man’s emotions,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I swore to the courts that I would never twist the truth to get what I want or harm another person. I told myself I would never hurt anyone ever again.”

         Michael frowned, confusion clouding his features. “You didn’t hurt anyone. What are you talking about?”

         Y/N met his eyes, the sadness in hers pulling her further into her guilt. “I didn’t hurt him physically, Michael. But emotionally…I did. Mentally…I did. I used Remington. I toyed with his feelings, and made him think I cared more than I did, all so we could get into the infirmary. He trusted me, and I shattered that trust.”

         The realisation hit Michael as he absorbed her words. He could see how torn she was. This wasn’t the same woman who had fought to survive in prison. She was grappling with her own morality, with the lines she’d crossed.

         “Y/N,” he said gently, stepping closer. “You did what you had to do. This is life or death. You can’t let the guilt eat you alive. We all make sacrifices in here.”

         “I know,” she whispered, but the weight of her actions still sat heavily on her chest. “But it feels like I’m just falling back into the person I was…the one who ruined lives for survival. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

         Michael’s eyes softened, and he took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’re not that person, Y/N. You’re doing this to survive, yes, but also to save an innocent man and yourself. You’re not manipulating for power or money; you’re trying to get free.”

         She nodded slowly, though the guilt lingered. “I just…I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

         Michael gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll make it out of here, and then you can start fresh. No more manipulation. No more lies. Just freedom.”

         Y/N looked up at him, the conflict in her heart still present but slightly eased by his words. She nodded again, though a part of her wondered if she could truly escape the person she once was or would become if she kept going down this path.

-

They were in the locker room. Y/N was sitting down, glancing over at her nails before wishing to have some hand cream. The extraneous labour work took a toll on her soft hands. Michael came in and said, “Put your blues on over your PI gear.”

         “What?” Sucre said.

         “You want to tell us why?” Abruzzi asked.

         “If we don’t have time to get the suits we need, we’re gonna have to make them,” Michael announced.

         Panic struck C-Note’s face. “What are you doing? We got company.”

         “It’s ok. He’s coming with us,” Michael announced.

         Y/N shot up from looking at the floor to Michael. “What?” she hissed. “Michael,” she tried but he just shook his head at her.

         “Hey, whatever happened to, ‘we got too many people’?” Abruzzi questioned.

         “When the plan changed, so did the timing,” Michael barked. “I’ll make sure we all get through.”

         “Well, for health reasons, information like that should be disseminated a little more pronto,” T-Bag

         “Uh-uh, Fish. One more person means there’s one more thing that can go wrong. He is not coming,” C-Note exclaimed, voice powerful.

         “It’s not up for discussion.”

         “The hell it ain’t,” C-Note said, walking closer to Michael.

         “I owe him. I don’t owe you a damn thing,” Michael whispered, voice low and taunting.

         “Well, you’re gonna if we get nailed,” C-note stated, “’cause you didn’t wanna cut down on the damn guest list.”

         Michael walked to where Y/N was. “Michael,” she said, voice low and quiet.

         “It’s going to be fine,” he stated. “Just listen.”

-

It was the waiting game and Michael was gone. He was called to the warden’s office.

         There was a plan. Always a plan. However, as Y/N sat in the cell she could not help but worry. Her blue jumpsuit was turning white and now she just had to wait. However, the nerves were a real thing.

         They were getting out tonight. They were getting out tonight and Y/N never felt so worried.

         Michael came back forty-five minutes later, he looked over at her for a moment and nodded before being escorted to his cell. Tier time came and Y/N came over to Michael’s cell. He opened his arms and brought her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her neck; lips close to her ear. “I love you and we are going to get through this,” he whispered in her ear, pulling away and rubbing her arms.

         “The first thing we do when we get out here,” she mumbled, “is a very large martini, extra dirty with gin and stirred. Also, a real bra.”

         Michael chuckled. “You got it, boss. I will also take you on a date where you can get this martini and we can pretend we are meeting for the first time, so we have a good story and not prison,” he exclaimed with a smile. “I will buy you all the lingerie you desire,” he then added. “From Paris.”

         Men came up who were looking for C-Note. Y/N was sitting with Michael on the bed.

         “Haven’t seen him,” she said, and they walked away after checking the cell. Y/N glanced over to Michael and smiled a reassuring smile.

         Slowly the group went in one by one. Y/N waited with Michael as he handed the clothes to each of them. Eventually, it was Y/N’s turn and she looked at Michael and nodded before crawling in. He was right behind her. They crawled through the pipes, one by one as they went. It was cramp and small, smelt a little weird but she knew she could not complain.

         Michael guided them. They heard Bellick scream and instantly, panic-struck her. T-Bag put his hand over Bellick mouth as Michael came up. He threatened him with a knife, holding it close to silence him.

         “You scream and I’ll cut out your windpipe, got me?” T-Bag threatened, a knife to his neck.

         Y/N came up behind Michael.

         “I need his jacket and hat,” Michael said, and they got to work undressing him.

         “Brains of the outfit, huh, Scofield?” Bellick taunted then looked to the others. “He’s leading you off a cliff, boys.” His eyes focused on Y/N. “Even you sweetheart has fallen for his charms. I bet he used you to get in your pants and will drop you the moment he’s out,” he threatened.

         “Now you’re acting like you’re still in charge. Shut your mouth, bitch,” C-Note spat.

         “So pendajo!” Sucre hissed with disgust.

         Bellick looked up at the pipe and locked eyes with Tweener. Y/N watched as he opened his mouth, “You…You know, he’s–“

         However, Tweener shut him up by punching him and forcing the duct tape back into Bellick’s mouth.

         Michael waited as they all went through and Y/N stopped at him, taking his hand and squeezing it before bringing it to her lips then she continued climbing on.

         Eventually, they got to a halt, Michael turned to them and said, “Everyone put your coveralls on. I’ll be back in a minute.” He was wearing Bellick’s uniform now.

         “Yo, where you going, man?” C-Note asked. “Hey!”

         “Just trust,” Y/N said. “There’s always a plan. Have a little faith.”

         “You heard him. Come on,” Sucre nudged.

         Y/N quickly pulled on the coveralls on while everyone followed. Y/N looked over to see Westmoreland looking at a bump in his clothing. She furrowed her brows. It was taking awhile and panic began to strike. Sucre looked up the grate.

         “What’s going on?” Manche asked with urgency.

         “I don’t know,” Sucre said.

         “What are we supposed to do, just sit here?” Manche panicked.

         “No. I don’t know!” Sucre exclaimed, getting borderline aggressive.

         “Shh,” Y/N shushed. “Have a little faith. There’s a plan. Stick to it,” she exclaimed, voice commanding. “Michael will get us out of here.”

         Manche shook his head. “Man, this whole thing is messed up, bro.”

         An alarm buzzed and they all looked up.

         “We’re screwed. We’re screwed!” T-Bag yelled.

         “Shhh,” Y/N snapped.

         Michael came back then explaining that they are moving forward despite the alarm. They needed to stick to the plan.

         “It’s the fire alarm in the psych ward,” Michael exclaimed coming closer.

         “How do you know?” Sucre asked.

         “I set it off,” Michael stated.

         “Why?”

         Everyone in the psych ward exited the building, all in white. They waited until it was time. When the patients were walking back to the psych ward as it was a false alarm, the team came up from the from grate.

         Y/N pulled her hair in a low bun, trying her best to look like a man. She tipped her head down as she followed the group, Michael in the lead wearing the guard’s uniform.

         “Got some stragglers,” he stated to one of the psych workers. “Let’s go!”

         “That’s not a wack shack issue,” the psych ward worker said.

         “Stay where you are! I said, stay where you are,” Michael yelled. Then he focused on the worker. “What’s the problem?” The man grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him aside. “What’s the problem?”

         “That’s the girl from C-Block,” he explained.

         Michael looked at Y/N. “Yeah, after killing six men and being in the mob, I think it got to her. She’s a little… you know,” he sighed. “Do you got that sedative?” The worker handed him the sedative. “This will put her out, right?”

         “Like a light.”

         Then Michael injected the needle into the worker’s neck, helping him to the ground before they went on again. They went down a vent one by one. However, Michael stopped in front of Tweener and Y/N followed behind him.

         “What’s up?’

         “We know you told Bellick,” Michael said looking him in the eye as Y/N stood behind him.

         Tweener shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

         “But I owed you, and I pay my debts,” Michael said lowly filled with a serious tone. “But as soon as we’re out of here, you go your way, we’ll go ours.” Tweener nodded and they continued with their escape.

         Everyone continued through the pipes, Michael reached back to grab Y/N’s hand, pulling her along.

         Michael picked out of a room, walking slowly down the corridor before signalling for everyone to come.

         Lincoln sat on the hospital bed waiting for whatever to come. The guard was talking about trucks when his eyes caught a movement ahead.

         Michael appeared, cocking a comment to the guard and catching his attention with the group of them. Instantly, the guard stood and hands up, backing up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, hey! I ain’t a hero for 14$ an hour. You do what you will.”

         “Uncuff my brother,” Michael demanded.

         “You got it, boss.” He did as Michael asked and then said, “Pretend I ain’t here, boss.”

         “Oh, yeah. You and the radio,” T-Bag cocked, punching him and knocking him out. However, he grabbed the pair of handcuffs and key without anyone noticing.

         The group walked up to the door to the room with the window. Y/N was behind Michael, ready to see if Dr. Remington did actually unlock the door. As Michael grasped the knob, slowly turning it.

         “Better be open, bro,” Sucre said. Everyone waited, huffing and puffing. Y/N closed her eyes, not wanting to see if she actually did it. It was life or death. If Sebastian found out she tried to escape…away from him…she did not know what he would do.

         Michael turned it, opening it and smirking. “We’re in.” They all entered, and Michael stopped. “First we gotta get that window out, then we gotta get the bars off.” Everyone piled in preparing for the escape.

         Michael went to the firehose, grabbing it and pulling it to the window. He quickly changed, closing the elevator door, but it wouldn’t close.

         “What now, genius?”

         He tried again, but it wasn’t budgeting.

         “Take your time,” T-Bag taunted. “We got 15 minutes to get over that wall.”

         Then, Tweener went into the elevator, closing it. The elevator went, pulling the hose that was attached to the bars. Slowly, but surely, it opened.

         The window was opened.

         “We’re through,” Michael said.

         They undressed as Tweener came back. However, as they were getting ready to get out, Haywire appeared.

         “I knew it,” he said.

         “Haywire,” Michael said.

         “I knew it. As soon as I saw you go into pscyh ward, I knew it. Either I come with…” Everyone moved but he held up a radio. “You want me to make a little person-to-person call here?”

         “Haywire, just take it easy,” Michael tried to calm him down.

         “He’s in,” Lincoln said.

         “What?” Abruzzi whispered.

         “He’s in,” Lincoln said again.

         “You’re crazy!” Abruzzi exclaimed.

         Bickering began about who is going when and Y/N stayed by Michael watching the whole thing unfold. In her hands were the white overalls. She glanced over to Michael and he sent a nod, taking her hand and squeezing it.

         They watched as Lincoln went over and slowly everyone went. However, Michael was concentrated on his watch, getting stressed with the time.

         “You ok?” she whispered, rubbing his back.

He glanced over to her. “Yeah,” he said with a breathy tone.

When Sucre began going over, Westmoreland fell down and instantly Michael, C-Note and Y/N went over.

“Charles?” Y/N asked, crouching down. “You ok?”

“No,” he said with pain.

“Let’s take a look,” Y/N said, taking his shirt with Michael and peeling it up. There it was a gash…a stab wound. It looked painful.

“It’s just a few more steps. You can make it,” Michael said.

“Oh, I could make it another foot, maybe two, but why?” Westmoreland asked rhetorically. “I wasn’t going for me. I was going for my daughter.”

“Then do it for your daughter,” Y/N said.

Michael promised him something.

“The money is buried under the silo,” Westmoreland said breathy looking at Michael. “At the Double K Ranch just outside of Tooele, Utah. There’s plenty to split, but you better buy her,” he glanced at Y/N, “a big fancy ring. I know real love when I see it.” He took a deep breath. “The government didn’t want any more embarrassment after I took off with the money, so they lowballed it to the papers. The truth is, Michael, it’s not $1 million under that silo…There’s $5 million there.”

Everyone heard it. Everyone in that entire room heard it.

“Give Anna her Papa’s love. And marry that girl.”

“I will,” Michael said, clasping his hand. “And I will.”

T-Bag went, climbing over the wire, however it was budging. C-Note was next.

Westmoreland edged Michael and Y/N to go, however, Manche told he would go last. Y/N went. Quickly going before Michael went. As soon as Michael started climbing, the lights went on and the alarm blared.  

Y/N was on the other side, waiting and panicking as she spotted Michael going over. “Come on,” she whispered. “Michael, baby, come on,” she edged. However, the wire broke with Manche going so Michael was climbing up. Lincoln grabbed Michael’s hand, pulling him up.

Manche was left behind though and all that was left was the white overalls. However, they were over.

They were free.

-

Here you go!

Hope you enjoy :)

I had so much fun writing this.

Much love,

Ava <3

-

Taglist:

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

@enha-stars @wonuskie @believeinthefireflies95 @esposadomd @peachmartini @rougegenshin

[phoxey]

Pink Eyed Guardian

Ship: CaitVi

CW: none, really... oh no wait, it does get saucy in between, so: MDNI

AN: after a looooooong break im back :D

my gf introduced me to arcane, and i wanted to write a oneshot that depicts their domestic life after the events of season 2, i love CaitVi so more CaitVi content in the future pershmaps?

Also, big thanks to my beautiful gf for editing this (sorry, love, i made this harder than it needed to be T-T)

Okay then, let's see how this goes!

Pink Eyed Guardian

Piltover was illuminated by the faint rays of the morning sun when Vi first stirred. She was cold and only in boxers – her part of the blanket had been cruelly stolen. Her eyes fluttered open, while she tried to focus her hazy eyes on her surroundings. Green marble decorated the walls of the bedroom, the world outside the windows being mirrored on the smooth stone of the floor. On it, in the far corner, Vi’s eyes located her gauntlet. After the battle between Piltover and Ambessa, she hadn’t worn it again; she still remembered the other gauntlet tumbling through the air with her sister. 

An invisible hand called guilt wrapped around Vi’s throat, the feeling bubbling up in her chest. For a second, she forgot she could breathe, her body freezing and her mind racing.  Pressing her lips together and squeezing her eyes shut, she released herself from her prison and turned around, not wanting to be reminded of that day.

When she opened her eyes again, she was met with a sleepy but worried gaze from the woman she loved.

“What’s wrong?” Cait asked softly.

Vi’s pain slowly ebbed away as she looked into Caitlyn’s ocean eye. With her fingertips, she traced her jaw.

“I’m just cold. You’re hogging the blanket, Sheriff Mongoose.”

“That’s Councilwoman Mongoose to you,” Cait mumbled sleepily.

“You’re lucky you’re beautiful. I can’t be mad at you,” Vi chuckled and sat up, “Would you like some morning tea, Councilwoman?”

“No, I’ll make it,” the tall woman sat up, eyes wide, as though the mere thought of a tea made by Vi was panic-inducing.

Vi shrugged, “I’m gonna make breakfast then.”

Together, they got up, leaving the smooth satin sheets lying across Caitlyn’s bed behind. Vi still called it Caitlyn’s bed and Caitlyn’s house, even though she has slept and lived here for weeks now, rarely returning to Zaun. In fact, she had only been to Zaun once since the attack, only to retrieve the few belongings she had, and bring them to the Kiramman mansion.

Vi snuck glances at Cait, who wrapped herself in a robe and put on her eyepatch – the wound beneath was still healing. Vi spotted a hickey on Cait’s shoulder, before it was covered by fabric, a sense of pride filling her chest while she threw on a tank top and followed Cait into the kitchen. 

While Vi cut up bread, sausages, and cheese, Caitlyn prepared the tea. As she put the water on the stove to boil, Caitlyn wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind. Her fingers curled into Vi’s pink hair and pulled her head to the side. Vi was about to protest, when she felt Cait’s lips on her neck, slowly kissing up. A soft sigh escaped Vi’s throat, and she leaned her hands on the counter to steady herself. Cait’s hands slipped under Vi’s top and roamed over her abs.

“What are you trying to do there, Cupcake?” Vi muttered.

“I wish we had more time… I want to pay you back for what you did last night,” Cait whispered into Vi’s ear and nipped at her lobe. Then she dragged the tip of her tongue down the side of Vi’s neck, right over her pulse.

“You have an important meeting, Miss Kiramman. You’re gonna be very late, if you continue to test me.”

Caitlyn let out a disappointed sigh and went back to the kettle on the stove. “Fine.”

Vi grinned at her. “Tonight. I’ll be yours. You can do whatever you want.”

Cait’s lips curled up into a sly smile, her eyes sparkled dangerously, which made Vi question whether she would enjoy or regret her promise.

They ate their modest breakfast on a small balcony that was only a few steps away from the kitchen. Caitlyn was lost in thought, most likely thinking about today's council meeting, staring into her tea, watching small waves ripple as she moved her cup side to side. Vi, on the other hand, leaned back in her chair and let her eyes wander. The gardens of the Kiramman mansion were starting to bloom. She squinted, seeing small, moving dots emerge from their homes to begin the day in the city of Piltover. The sounds of construction and birds echoed through the streets, creating a strange but soothing melody. The city was learning how to breathe again.

Her gray eyes followed a bird flying over their heads and into its nest, which rested on a window nook. Vi’s eyes followed the bird as it flew up again and over the roof.  Her eyes stopped when she caught a glimpse of a shadow quickly moving behind the roof’s ridge. Immediately, her brows furrowed, and she blinked. She was sure she had seen a person sitting on the roof, but when she opened her eyes again, the dark silhouette was gone. Confused, she looked around, her eyes searching for any unusual movement.

“Did you see that?”

Cait blinked, ripped out of her thoughts. “What?”

Vi shook her head. “Nothing…”

She didn’t have much time to ponder over what she thought she saw, Caitlyn had to leave for work. So, Vi stood up and took care of the dishes while her girlfriend got ready. 

As they left the house, Vi adjusted the hem of her plain blouse. In contrast to her boring look, Cait looked like a lady in her fine attire with golden details and her hair in a neat high bun. Luckily, the collar was high enough to hide any proof of Vi’s indecency from the night prior. 

Since the day Caitlyn took her mother’s seat on the Piltover council, Vi had made it her daily routine to walk her to work, just like today. As they were passing people on the streets, the couple was recognized by many. 

Most didn’t know the full story of what had gone down the day that the Noxian forces attacked, they were just glad that peace had returned to the city. But they knew who to thank–Caitlyn made sure that Vi’s efforts were recognized by the Piltovian public.

A mix of Zaunites and topsiders wove through the streets, the thought of them mingling with each other still a bit foreign to most. But they slowly got used to each other. With Sevika Zaun even had a representative on the council. They were still far from equality and peace, but steps were being taken to guide the people towards successful coexistence.

“What will you do today?” Caitlyn asked when they reached the entrance to the council building. She took both of Vi’s hands into hers. She didn’t want her worry to be obvious, but she asked every day, just to make sure that Vi wasn’t sitting at home and bathing in her pain and grief.

Vi pondered for a moment. “I think I’ll go to the undercity today. I wanna see how Ekko’s doing.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Give him my best and tell him he is invited for dinner when he finds the time.”

“Speaking of dinner. How about we eat out tonight? There’s this restaurant I came across the other day, and I think you’ll enjoy it too.”

“I would love that.” Cait smiled and cupped Vi’s face to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

Vi pulled her in for a second one, the first ending too quickly for her taste. Then, finally, the two women let go of each other, and Caitlyn watched her girlfriend walk down the street after wishing her a good day with a smile and a wave, although in reality her chest bore an uncomfortable weight. Vi didn’t like to talk about the wars raging deep inside her heart and mind. She always masked her struggle, an old habit that Caitlyn wished Vi never felt the need to learn in the first place.

Although Vi didn’t talk about it, Caitlyn knew. She saw it in the heaviness her body seemed to carry, the way her eyes often darted to and fro, analyzing her surroundings. Even the way she flinched with every loud noise, and the small whimpers that would leave her lips while she slumbered.

-

Vi stood in front of the elevators that would bring her to the undercity, contemplating whether she should enter or not, something within her stopping her from completing her stride to push the button that would call the elevator up. Her heart sang for her to parcourse her way down, as she had always done.

So that was exactly what she did. Vi landed in an alley at the end of her journey, before carefully dusting off her shirt. She heard a noise behind her and spun on her heel, fists up. But her eyes were met with a small cat running away. Confused, she tilted her head, but let her fists slowly drop down.

Zaun was different from last time she was here. It was still dirty and run down, but she felt like the air was cleaner and the mood lighter. She watched people tidy up some rubble as she walked down the street. 

Soon after, she passed some enforcers on patrol, both the civilians and the enforcers smiled and nodded upon recognizing Vi. She forced her lips into a polite and somewhat friendly expression. But she couldn’t quite feel at ease, the hairs on her neck telling her that something was wrong. But no matter how much she looked around, she was unable to sense a threat.

Finally she found Ekko, who was repairing a generator with some other ex-firelights. He spotted her quickly.  Before she was able to get a word out, he got up and excused himself from his group.

“Fancy seeing you down here,” he said, wiping off some dirt from his sweaty forehead with an old towel. He swung it over his shoulder and leaned against a wall, opening a bottle of water and offering it to Vi.

She took it with a guilty smile. She was unable to muster up a good excuse as to why she hadn’t come back to Zaun, much less visit her old friend. “I’m sorry, I-... just couldn’t.”

Ekko’s stern expression softened a little bit. “I get it.”

“Everything reminds me of them,” Vi muttered, watching Ekko gulp down his water from the corner of her eye. “This is what they dreamed of… and they’re not here to see it. It’s just not fair.”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” Ekko agreed.

Silence settled between them as they watched the people of Zaun rebuilding their city. Vi saw children wave and smile towards Ekko. 

Amidst their appraisal, a woman brought food and drinks to the people working on the generator.

Vi broke the silence. “You’re doing good work down here. The people look up to you.”

“With Sevika on the council, they finally take us somewhat seriously. We’ve reconstructed Zaun's water and electricity supply network almost entirely. We’re even planning to build a school down the street over there, but first we need to repair all the houses. Maybe build a few new ones so no one has to live on the streets.”

Vi nodded. “I’ll talk to Caitlyn. If Sevika isn’t enough, Cait will convince the others.” 

Ekko shifted awkwardly in his spot. “Thanks…” he responded quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Vi asked.

“It’s just… sometimes it feels too good to be true. I mean, why are we able to do this when Vander and Benzo couldn’t? Look at us.”

Vi looked down at her shoes. “Jinx did all the work. She gave Zaun something to believe in.”

Ekko flinched at Vi’s words like he’d been stung. “Don’t call her that…”

“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered.

“You’re right. This is Powder’s work. She made this possible.”

“In the end, maybe I was the jinx and she was a lucky charm.”

Ekko shot Vi a look. “She would never agree with that. Neither of you are a jinx.”

Vi pressed her lips together–defeated. She let her head fall back against the wall and looked up into the sky. Just then she saw a shadow jump out of her field of vision. Her brows furrowed, her thoughts wandering back to the cat from earlier, wondering if she was yet again imagining foux threats.

“Hey Vi?”

“Yeah?” Vi’s gaze shot over to Ekko again.

“I have to get back to repairing this generator. I have a lot to do. Will I see you soon?”

Vi nodded. “I’ll try to visit again soon. By the way, Cait is wondering if you wanna come over for dinner soon?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know.”

With that Ekko pushed himself off of the wall and walked over to his friends. Vi watched him for a while. The way he moved and interacted with his friends reminded Vi that he was a natural-born leader, and how contagious his smile was.

Vi walked down the streets again. For some reason, she felt like she was being watched. She did catch a few stares here and there, after all, most of her fellow Zaunites hadn’t seen her in over a month. 

Vi didn’t know what Ekko told them or what rumors had spread. But there was disappointment in their eyes, and she truly could not blame them.

She let them stare and just kept walking. Eventually, she found herself in front of a mural that portrayed Jinx, the savior of Zaun. Mesmerized, Vi’s fingertips grazed the cold stone along the painted cheek of her little sister. Whoever painted the mural knew her well. It looked just like her. Her pink eyes were tired but determined, and she had raised one fist with a small smile on her lips. She looked heroic yet peaceful. Unlike her depictions on Piltover's WANTED posters.

“I don’t know why, but everything in me refuses to believe that you’re gone.” Vi mumbled, her eyes meeting the pink painted irises that would have belonged to her sister. “I wish I had been a better sister. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t made every possible wrong decision,” Vi whispered, almost expecting the visage of her sister to answer her.

“Listen, I don’t know if there’s a heaven or something… but I hope that, wherever you are, you’ve found peace. You of all people deserve it.” Vi paused, mulling over her thoughts. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll be okay. I’ve got Cait, and I live in a nice house. I’m trying to have a normal life now.” She tried to muster up a smile, but her lips trembled. “I was trying to look for work, but Cait wants me to stay home and heal from all the shity things that happened up until now. But you know me… I don’t want to deal with all that. I need someone or something to take care of. That was my purpose. Now I just waste time until Cait comes home.”

She paused again and put her forehead to the wall, as though she was leaning it against her sisters’s. Vi clenched her jaw and punched the wall next to the painting. Frozen like that, she stood there for a few minutes, before she slowly dropped her fist.

It was hard for her to leave the mural, but eventually she did. For a while, she aimlessly wandered through the streets and alleys. Only when she noticed the streetlights turning on, did she return to Piltover. But not without feeling the burn of eyes staring into her back, which made her subtly pick up the pace.

Patiently, she waited at home for Cait to come back from work. She spent her time reading books from the extensive Kiramman library. She was so immersed in the story she hadn’t even heard the door open or close, and only realized Cait was home when the woman took the book out of her hand and slid onto Vi’s lap. 

With arms around her shoulders, Cait pressed her face into the crook of Vi’s neck and inhaled her scent. Vi immediately wrapped her arms around Caitlyn's waist.

“I missed you, Cupcake.”

“I missed you more,” she whispered back and trailed kisses up Vi’s throat and jaw until she reached her lips. 

The kiss that followed only highlighted Caitlyn’s words. She pressed her body against Vi and deliberately deepened the kiss. Her tongue teased Vi’s, not very politely asking for a dance. Vi happily indulged and was rewarded with a soft but satisfied moan from Cait. Her fingers dug into Caits waist, while her girlfriend's hands slid down zeroing in on her favorite place  and cupped Vi’s boobs. Vi gasped surprised, but she shouldn’t be–Cait was oddly obsessed with her girlfriend's chest. Which she promptly started to explore. After having her fill with Vi’s boobs, Cait’s hand slid down to her stomach and traced the lines of her abs. 

Vi’s lips, on the other hand, found their way to Cait’s neck, placing open-mouthed kisses over her pulse, enjoying the sweet moans that fell from Caitlyn’s lips due to her efforts. Then Cait’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of Vi’s pants on a clear mission to get the same noises from her girlfriend. But before her hand was even halfway in Vi’s pants, fingers wrapped around Cait’s wrist, stopping her.

Confused, Cait pulled away. "What's wrong?”

“Not now,” Vi smiled gently.

“You promised me I can do what I want tonight.” Cait pouted.

“Let’s go to the restaurant first. You can have me later,” she said and kissed Caitlyn’s forehead.

Grumbling, Caitlyn got up from Vi’s lap, but her stomach betrayed her and loudly announced her hunger. Vi chuckled at that, and together they changed into fancier attire.

The restaurant wasn’t far from the Kiramman mansion, so they walked, enjoying the cool breeze of the night after a hot day. The streets were quiet, but they could hear laughter and talking from inside the homes. With a small smile, Cait changed from holding Vi’s hand, to holding her arm and leaning against her as they walked. She felt Vi’s tense muscles under her dress shirt, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed how Vi kept looking behind them.

Even when they sat down at the restaurant, Vi kept looking around, her eyes searching for something outside the windows, but never quite finding it. It was almost impossible for Cait to have a normal conversation with her girlfriend. 

Vi was barely paying attention and only gave her half assed answers. When Cait was finished with her meal, Vi’s plate was still halfway full, which was strange because Vi usually had the habit of gobbling every meal that Cait put on the table. 

Her sniper eyes followed Vi’s gaze outside the window, and for a moment that was shorter than a blink, she saw the reason for Vi's stress.

Gently she touched Vi’s hand, whose eyes immediately jerked to her. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, real quick. Do me a favor and eat up. I know you didn’t eat lunch.”

Vi gave her a guilty smile and finally focused on the plate in front of her. Caitlyn, in the meantime, stood up and walked towards the bathroom. Just before she reached it, and when she was sure she was out of sight for Vi, she took a sharp turn and went outside on the balcony that wrapped around the rooftop restaurant. 

“You’re stressing her out,” Caitlyn stated calmly into the night.

“She’s just seeing ghosts,” a voice answered.

Cait turned around, and on the edge of the roof, a cloaked figure sat. The figure lifted her head a bit, so Cait finally could see the face that had been hidden by a hood. Not that she would need that to know who it was.

“You need to be more careful, Jinx.”

Jinx smiled and tilted her head. “Topside doesn’t have many shadows to hide. And Ekko brought light to Zaun. It’s getting harder to hide.”

Cait sighed. “She knows someone is following her. I don’t know how long I can still convince her that she is just imagining things. Don’t you think it would be better if you revealed yourself to her? And what about Ekko?”

Jinx grimaced and shook her head. “Without me they have nothing they have to worry about but their own happiness. My death is the end of that chapter of their lives. Now they can start a new one.” She swings her legs forward and backward. “It’s better this way. I’ll just be watching over them.”

“Vi’s just a shell of her former self. She’s lost her purpose.”

“Give her a new one,” Jinx shot back, “Earlier… she mentioned that she needs something or someone to take care of. She’s a lot like Vander in that sense.”

“What do you suggest?” Cait raised an eyebrow.

Jinx shrugged. “She made a good enforcer back then, remember? When you tried to kill me.”

Cait chewed on her cheek, annoyed that Jinx would bring that up. But she refrained from saying anything. Vi liked to joke to cope with things, and Jinx seemed to pick up the same habit.

“A Zaunite as an enforcer might be a good step towards building trust between Zaunians and enforcers, don’t you think? She could help people.”

Cait started pondering. “Maybe…–”

The balcony door opened and at the very same moment Jinx vanished, her cloak blowing wind into Caits face.

Vi stood at the door with a worried expression. “Everything okay?”

Cait quickly fixed her face and smiled. “Yes, sorry. I just needed some fresh air for a moment.”

Relieved, Vi smiled and offered her hand so they could walk inside together.

“You know, I’ve been thinking… How would you like to be an enforcer again? Keeping the fragile peace of our young unity.”

Cait saw how a little bit of life returned to Vi’s eyes. “As long as you don’t punch me in the stomach again, cupcake,” Vi joked.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and she could swear that she heard Jinx giggle in the distance.

[blueraith]

I think there's some sort of fundamental problem a portion of the fanbase has with Show Don’t Tell.

You know, words verses action.

"The show never addresses Vi's trauma!"

Genuinely, what the fuck are y'all talking about? Pit Fighter Vi was nothing but a walking case of trauma if I've ever seen one. She descends briefly into alcoholism for fucks sake. Why do y'all THINK she was purposely allowing the shit to get beaten out of her, drink away the pain, and then repeat the next day. Some of y'all even want MORE of this fucking whump and somehow that doesn't translate as Vi literally living out her trauma in the most unhealthy way possible????

I'm literally confounded whenever I see this sentiment.

Of what about: "Caitlyn never apologizes!"

Huh????

What the fuck do y'all THINK Caitlyn was doing as she had that tender touch and look at the same spot she hit Vi during the sex scene? Or gave up her generational Council seat to a representative of Zaun if NOT to apologize for how she treated it? Or personally lead the front line defense of Piltover and lost a fucking eye for?

It's like y'all need Vi to stare directly at the audience and state "Yeah, prison fucked me up, fighting with my sister makes me sad, and breaking up with my not-girlfriend-girlfriend has sent me into a spiral that I don't know how get out of. I'm going to drink and punch away my problems until the pain becomes too much to bear, and then I'm going to risk dying in my fights to end the pain."

Evidently y'all need your hands held this much.

Or Cait: "Hello, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, generational wealth here. My trauma and grief became out of control, and I hurt people through my own pain. I'm very sorry about that. Sorry for hitting Vi, sorry for declaring martial law on Zaun, sorry for getting mixed up with a Noxian warlord. I've given up the Kiramman seat and will use my wealth and influence to help, not hurt, for the rest of my life. Oh, I also sacrificed an eye. That was kinda a big deal to me, I don't regret it, though."

Like, what the fuck did y'all want? Even if I wanted to bother writing all that shit in character, it just comes off cringe as fuck. I'm not exactly a novice writer either, this is just frankly something Caitlyn would never do. She doesn't verbalize her feelings this way and never has.

But evidently some of you actually need Caitlyn to stand up at a podium and deliver some lame fucking apology with words for it to count in your minds. The actions don't matter, only the words do, because y'all can't recognize actions in place of words to save your lives.

This isn't even just relegated to Caitvi.

"They forgot about the sisters and their relationship!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????????????

What were episodes 5 and 6 for if not the sisters and their relationship???????

What's hilarious about this one is that it comes the closest to actually just being outright verbally stated for y'all to follow and you still missed it. This whole story beat is basically a slowpitch softball being lobbed lazily at the audience to hit out of the park and some of y'all whiffed it so badly, you're cartoonishly spinning around on your back foot after your swing, Looney Tunes style.

There's an actual fucking letter Jinx reads out that's about Vander and Silco but is so obviously a parallel for Jinx and Vi that it's kind of embarrassing this is even a talking point in the fandom. The characters themselves literally even realize and see themselves in their fathers' broken relationship for fucks sake.

There's even a sibling fight and everything.

Vi basically wanted to stay at the commune with her family until Jayce showed up and fucked everything up. (For good reason.)

I do have some personal nitpicks about the sister stuff, but to say that it was "forgotten" is grossly false. Hilariously so.

Guess this is what y'all wanted:

"Hey, Jinx, I'm trying really hard to be a family with you again, prison fucked me up, and so it's kinda hard to get my mind around my new reality. Except you've been rejecting me and blowing shit up since I got out, I don't know what to do with that, so I'm spiraling."

"Well, geez, Vi, I have a whole slew of mental trauma and illnesses that are undiagnosed, so that's not helping things, but I'm also really mad that you worked together with a Piltovan enforcer after all our family has been through. I also have this whole "favorite person" thing going on that's really triggering the shit out of me that I don't know what to do with."

It's this what y'all wanted? Firstly, when is a well written and in character version of the above supposed to take place, and secondly for all that y'all bray about trauma and projecting your own responses on fictional characters (see any time someone is upset that Vi doesn't arbitrarily flinch at enforcers and Caitlyn like they think she should) don't y'all MAYBE think that neither Vi or Jinx are in a position to be this self aware about their own emotions and feelings? We're talking about two extremely traumatized young women from a mutual broken family doing the best they fucking can. It's not even close to adequate because it's not MEANT TO BE.

These things among many others are so frustrating to see the fandom nitpick. Media literacy and Show Don't Tell are two subjects being defensively criticized whenever anyone brings it up because y'all think we're using it to browbeat criticism away.

We're not. We're using it because y'all evidently are missing key plot points and then turn around and accuse the show of never addressing them. It's frankly bizarre. How are y'all watching the show? Is it on a second screen? The other room? At 2x speed? Are you on tiktok while you watch?

How are y'all missing this? And could you please rewatch the show before making these brain-dead "criticisms?" I promise I'm going to be fucking pissed if TV in the future has to have every character flat out state their emotions, motivations, and thoughts at the camera for y'all to fucking get it. This is just sad.

[dirthamen-enjoyer]

please remember that this is all my personal thoughts and i might be wrong about some of the things. it is critical. this started off as one specific topic about solas and then ended up turning into more of a ramble. i guess? anyways spoilers for veilguard under the keep reading line.

i wish my brain worked properly sometimes because i really want to know why i feel like they didn't write solas cohesively enough. to me, he is the best part of datv. and no, it's not because i romanced him in inquisition. actually, i could never finish his romance because he was such a know-it-all and it would annoy me lol. (it's because i'm a know-it-all and know-it-alls tend to clash. i plan on forcing myself through it one day though.) despite him annoying me, i liked him as a character. i liked his reveal, the moral greyness of him.

i think mainly my problem is how they presented his morals and why he wants to tear down the veil. it feels like they couldn't decide how to focus him. so originally he's tearing down the veil because it was a mistake and wants the world to go back to the way it was so the days of the ancient elves - specifically after the evanuris are gone - could return, at least that's what i got from it.

then at the beginning of veilguard, it suddenly it feels like tearing the veil down is just a byproduct of him needing to move the last of the evanuris to a better prison. huh? in my head i always thought that solas was ready to fight the evanuris when the veil is brought down because he's willing to take the risk of dealing with them just to bring the old world back. maybe that's too headcanon-y? also i never got around to reading the books or comics fully so i might have missed some details.

then at the end it's "i must do this for mythal or her sacrifice would be for nothing" or whatever he said. huh? i don't get why it's suddenly about mythal, even with the regret murals showing how close they were. it should be about him and all he sacrificed, only for it to not go the way he wanted. without even talking about what was revealed in the regrets murals, he sacrificed the world he knew to lock the evanuris (and forgotten ones) away to try and make life better for the common elves, the slaves.

i don't know how well that last paragraph comes off. i'm just saying that it felt like it didn't belong. his whole story is about regrets, yes. makes sense. he regrets the events that happened because of the veil mistakenly happening. he regrets what's in the murals (which i might talk about in another post because :/) but the game acts like him tearing down the veil is just selfish. there's no other nuance there, it's just selfish. huh? there is so much nuance to this position, in my opinion, that i can't even figure out how to write it.

okay so i've officially lost my train of thought about this original topic, which means i don't know what else to put. i'll just say that i feel dumb that i don't understand it while it feels like everyone else does. also i don't understand why i dislike how everything ended for him. it was like someone punched me when lost elf started playing because this ending didn't feel right. and i don't know why. (that one ending... "i am a god!" bffr he would NAWT FUCKING say that.)

also let me just quickly state that i do not think they should have made the evanuris, and elves, originally spirits. it takes away the fantasy in a the fantasy story, is the best way to say it. i know it sounds weird, but... mysteries are good. not everything needs an explanation. we could have had the mystery of "what were the evanuris?" if they kept them as just gods instead of explaining them. just have the reveal be that the gods weren't good to their subjects and are all-powerful. no need to explain all the time.

this has nothing to do with how much i wanted to fight actual gods (i did. i wanted to go up against actual gods other than the archdemons. and we know that reveal :/ ) or even how much more impactful it would have made solas's history.

[thienan1s]

Ghost marriage au :

Warning : blood, gore, madness, necrophilia ,main character death ( I am concerned for my mental health as I write this ).

- In the Dark Cacao Kingdom arc instead of defeating his father and throwing him off the wall like in canon, Dark Choco loses the battle and is captured which leads to the Cookies of Darkness' plan failing immediately, they all run away and abandon Dark Choco.

Dark Cacao saw the consequences of sparing his son, deciding for the good of the country to execute his son. Needless to say, this shook the entire country, most people sided with Dark Cacao but there was also a small group that disagreed (Caramel Arrow and Milk but their opinion doesn't matter anyway).

Dark Choco was a bit shocked when he heard this news, but quickly calmed down even wondering why he was shocked, wasn't this obvious ? overall he took the news...pretty well...kinda, just a little sad because he thought he deserved it.

The prince was in the dungeon, lost in thoughts of the past and present, helplessly immersed in pain and regret, no one came to visit him, nor did he expect anyone to visit him ( Milk Cookie can't get in and Caramel Arrow is trying desperately to change the king's mind ).

Time flies like wind.

Execution day has come, the prince was beheaded in front of everyone at the Black Citadel including the king and the First Watcher.

The prince head lay still on the white snow, blood stained the ground, his ebony hair covered his homeland, it may be strange to say this about a scene like this but if you can look past the horror you will see this is beautiful like a work of art.

The head of a beauty on the snow, his eyes closed, his face looked so peaceful as if he was sleeping, his hair even though it was stuck together and stained with blood, just by looking at it you could tell it was very soft and smooth like silk, most of the hair was jet black even though it was soaked in blood it did not change color hugging his face making it stand out on the white snow stained with red ( the fuck did I writing ???? ), his headless body lay on one side, how could a warrior's body be so fragile ? He was wearing only a thin and old clothes of prisoners, its white color highlights its old and tattered, dirty appearance. But despite that, it did not overshadow the beautiful lines of his body. On the contrary, it can bring something positive. He looks like a beautiful, fragile abandoned doll, making one want to take care of him. One of the witnesses to the execution thought.

"Don't worry my prince because I won't let you rot and die "

Soon you will wake up and we will live happily ever after

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok the fuck I just write, I swear my original idea had no necrophilia and this 'corpse beauty', in short it's just Dark Choco died but that's not the end, became a ghost haunting the country but a good ghost helping people and clearing his name (letting everyone know that it was actually because of the sword), but i keep writing new ideas keep coming, "beauty of the dead" description of the beauty of the Dark Choco death scene is so interesting i can't stop even though i realize how horrible it is, then "Snow White" and "ghost marriage" slowly appeared and everything became like this. It's amazing how different the result is from the original idea when writing.

If you've read this far, then what happened in this au is that a simp yandere witch performed a ghost marriage ritual and that revived Dark Choco (some kinds of that, probably more accurately turning him into some kind of demon, at least he still exists in the living world and can affect this world like a human), and he will experience both cursed and blessed, both funny and sad, both happy and unhappy days with this girl ( why it suddenly turn into romecom ). Explore the supernatural world both exciting and terrifying, of course still help people in Dark Cacao Kingdom and clear his name. ( Look like an interesting and promising au that i won't do because it has too much stuff, especially romcom, although it's fun to write, if one day i do this au i'll probably cut the romcom plot by not romanticizing or cuteizing the yandere witch obsessing over mental illness necrophilia and let Dark Cacao kill her )

[heylittleriotact]

🌹🌱🌼🥀💐🌺 pretty please!

Yesss LFG! Thank you for these! They made me think!

🌹: What's the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

The "At Your Age?" Argument wasn't their first fight - just the one that sucked the most because it was left unresolved for weeks.

Their first fight was actually brought about when Amina interjected during one of Emmrich's yapping sessions about lichdom and what a great honour it would be to join their ranks, and how amazing and special it would be to live forever, blah blah blah.

She basically asked if he could try talking about literally anything else for a change, because all of this talk of lichdom was getting tired, and maybe he's idealized this a bit much, and honestly she doesn't really care for it, so she'd rather not have to hear about it continuously in the first place.

Emmrich immediately went on the defense, and decided to explain (in the form of an academic lecture) why lichdom was perfectly ethical, and why Amina had no cause to distrust it, therefore she needn't be afraid.

Then she might have made a remark along the lines of, "I asked if we could change the subject - not for a condescending lecture on a subject I'm actually already very familiar with: I'm not one of your fucking students, Professor."

... and things escalated from there.

They avoided each other for the remainder of the day, but after dinner Emmrich answered a knock at his door to find a bouquet of freshly cut lilacs (out of season most places - where had she gotten them?) and a note inviting him to come find her in the Memorial Gardens if he wanted to talk it out.

And talk it out they did.

I actually plan on writing this whole encounter one day 😅

🌱Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

She's had a handful of relationships, usually with people also in the Watch. It's a path that tends to eat into one's ability to have a normal life with predictable time away from work, holidays etc. You work weird hours and do a lot of emotional labour, so finding a partner who isn't a Watcher who really understands all of that is challenging.

Her first partner was a childhood friend named Kalista, who joined the Watch with her but dropped out a few years into training. She was outgoing, friendly, and beautiful - tall with stormy blue-gray eyes and wavy brown hair.

She fell in a bit too hard with the party crowd and struggled more and more to keep up with her studies before eventually she just stopped showing up. Amina broke up with her because as much as it hurt, she felt that she needed to focus on her own future at the time. She and Kalista remained friends for many years, despite the end of their relationship, but things got worse for her friend when she started seeing someone new who seemed committed to making everything worse for Kalista instead of better. Amina hasn't heard from her in years. The last she spoke with Kalista, she had offered to help her pin down some resources to help her with her lyrium addiction and work through some other things. She suspects Kalista's current partner caught wind of that and forbid her from speaking with Amina again. Every morning she checks the sheet of overnight death calls posted in the Necropolis to make sure Kalista's name isn't on it.

🌼If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Spicy leaves! Grave dirt. And splinters!

(Peppermint, literally grave dirt, and wood shavings from building coffins.)

🥀What figure from Rook's personal past would be added to the regret prison?

Kalista, for obvious reasons: Amina knows that she can't control other people's choices and actions, but she worries about her constantly and can't help but feel that she could have done more for her friend, or she still could if she wasn't too cowardly to involve herself.

Reda: the woman who took Amina in as a child and raised her. Reda fell ill just before Amina was soft-exiled from the Watch, and she died about six months before Veilguard. Amina left Varric abruptly, and was only just barely able to make it to her bedside in time to be with her when she passed. Amina regrets that because of her actions during the War of The Banners, she was unable to spend Reda's final days with her, taking care of her as she was cared for by the Necropolis matron when she was young. As the closest thing to a mother she ever had, she feels that she failed her.

💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

Amina has always gotten on well with Myrna and Vorgoth - she excelled in her studies when she was training, throwing herself into them with enthusiasm and an attitude that indicated that the scrappy foundling had something to prove, and over the years established herself as a reliable and skilled member of the Mourn Watch. It takes a very specific kind of person to be a Watcher, and an even more specific kind of person to be a Reaper, and her superiors would readily admit that Amina made for this lifestyle - it truly is her calling.

Because of this, the conversation in which they parted ways was painful for everyone: Amina felt betrayed and forced to let go of the only place that had ever felt like what she imagined home would feel like. It pained Myrna and Vorgoth to be the ones to deliver the news, but what they did not mention to Amina was that the two of them had personally argued for exile in favour of the alternative: Watchers who break their oaths and harm the undead (even if they fucking deserved it) forfeit their lives: Unbeknownst to her, she's got Myrna and Vorgoth to thank for the fact that her bones aren't waiting on one of the undead nobles whose toes she stepped on.

🌺Is there an object from Rook's childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food?)

Reda rarely went anywhere without a fashionable silk or chiffon scarf around her neck. Amina used to spend hours as a child, draping herself in the scarves and donning Reda's jewelry, strutting around the house to the delight of the woman, billowing and fluttering like a colourful sail. There's an entire crate of the scarves waiting for her at her apartment after Reda's passing. They're much too bright and extravagant for her tastes, but before she returned to Varric, she managed to find a relatively tame one dyed in reds and blacks and golds with stylized dragons picked out on it - she keeps it with her always. Even wears it from time to time. She figures if she ever gets blood on it, the colours should hide it well enough.

It smelled like Reda for the longest time, until one day it didn't anymore. That was a sad day.

[remedyturtles]

right so I'm just gonna *slides onto the bench next to you*

FIREFIGHT MAN. I've been watching the emails about updates come into my inbox for about a month and I finally had the time this past week to really catch up with all the chapters i've missed and dUDE.

Something I haven't been able to shake since I first started reading this fic was the "I love you" "i'm sorry" scenes, and the thought that would always come to my mind was- if Donnie dies in the prison dimension because of his love for Leo, then Leo would die because of how sorry he is for the things that have happened (that he's "inflicted") on Donnie. and, initially, when they first got out of the prison dimension, I thought that train of thought was getting nixed because they were so obviously alive.

.....and theeeeenn the next several chapters came for my throat

RAH. i debated on making this ask, but after that last chapter, I feel like I had to for my own sanity, bECAUSE EVEN THOUGH THEY'VE LEFT THE PRISON DIMENSION, THEY HAVEN'T LEFT HELL, AND EVEN THOUGH THEIR BODIES ARE STILL ALIVE, THINGS HAVE BEEN KILLED INSIDE OF THEM

and the final kicker is that that statement STILL. HOLDS. TRUE. if leo were to die, it'd be because of the guilt and regret and hatred he feels for himself because of what he's done to donnie. and if that were true, then donnie would die because he literally cannot live without leo. it's still the same formula, it's just been horrifically warped. and yet, it's funny, because if leo had died in the prison dimension, the result very well might have been the same.

also, just want to mention a part of the latest chapter that is so well done and riding on a similar note. leo asks, "you'd really have them lose us both to prove a point?" and donnie responds with, "haven't I already shown I'm willing to do that?" which is so interesting, because it really wouldn't be about proving a point. if it came down to that, it would be because it is donnie's only option left. again- it is not about proving a point. to donnie, there would be nothing more to do without leo, so there would be nothing left to do.

and it is fascinating to me that donnie doesn't say that, or that his mind doesn't give it away, because that could mean one of two things (warning: audience speculation here) - donnie thinks he has to play this way because the only move he can make in leo's game where leo will listen is a counterclaim, and not an outright rebuttal. OR, donnie is so convinced that this is how it goes, this is how the conversation goes, only within the frames of leo's game, that he isn't even consciously aware of the fact that there is a different answer here, one that might be more true than the other statement. neither of those would be false things to say- but what Donnie said isn't the bottom of it. it's not the origin.

and that's even more disheartening, because that almost explains why nothing Donnie says makes a dent in leo's understanding. in this recurring argument, Donnie repeats the same thing, over and over again, that he DID go into the prison dimension with leo, so shouldn't that change how leo sees how much donnie needs him and cares about him and loves him? and it doesn't. it doesn't change a thing. leo doesn't hear donnie slamming his hands on the rocks, because he's heard it before. he's heard it over and over again. to leo, it's white noise. he's grown so used to Donnie screaming he can't even be aware of what he's saying anymore.

i'm not totally sure how to switch gears from that into anything else LOL, but I did want to say i'm sorry you've been feeling down lately. I saw your comment that you've been going through it, and I hope things start to look up again soon. :) If it's any kind of comfort to you, I'd love to tell you that your work has helped me get through some rough patches, and that it's inspired me to write and love writing again. You have quite an incredible understanding of how people work and work through things, and you have a brilliant author's voice. YOU'RE INCREDIBLE DUDE ✨✨✨

holy shit dude LMAO /pos

i am fascinated, chin in hands, reading this. very interesting thoughts mate. i won't confirm or deny anything of course LMAO

and since i'm here talking abt firefight, i should explain where we are in the story. when they left the PD i sat down and planned the recovery arc, which has four parts:

part one - initial rescue do not separate (done)

part two - fighting (just finished)

part three - healthy separation (just beginning)

part four - :)

just so y'all have an idea how much more we have to go lol

and thank you for the kind words. nothing is better than art inspiring art to me.