#I tried my best but some may have slipped through the cracks

[magicalgirlfia]

Here my unofficial translations of short stories included in the Official Guilty Gear Anthology which was released as a 2024 April Fools joke.

Thank you very very much to @solradguy for the scans of the issue! You can find a link to the archive page at the very top of the document.

[mechaknight-98]

Aggression (NSFW) FT Sohee Kim

Authors note: I wrote this in the delirium of Hay fever but I figured some of you might enjoy it

I try to steady my breathing as I wake up. My musth is coming in a few days and it's shaping up to be a particularly nasty one. I need to focus for the next few days as my performance at work has already been dropping and I can't afford for it to slip. after getting up my girlfriend (and fellow Alpha) Sohee stirs.

"You okay dear? It's 3 in the morning." Sohee asked. I nodded and went to go for my musth suppressants in the medicine cabinet. Shit they were empty.

"Honey I know you have been stressed and trying to focus better at work but you need to stop taking Musth Suppressants." Sohee pleads.

my hands tremble as I can feel the anger, lust, and raw aggression beginning to take hold.

"I know honey but I just need to get out of this Probation Period," I tell her.

"Babe you've extended taking them every time something new has come up. First, it was "I need to get this job" then it was "We need to finish the move" Now it's this. You have been suppressing yourself and you're just making your next musth that much worse for you. they aren't helping. You get home lethargic but restless so you can't sleep. You don't dump the hormones either by fucking or fighting. so they just sit in your body till the next must. I see it in your eyes." Sohee warned.

"But we fuck all the time?" I countered. Sohee rolls her eyes.

"While I may not be your type of alpha You and I both know Alpha biology requires musth/rut fucking, and competition to maintain a happy and healthy lifestyle," Sohee replied

I sighed trying to stay calm but I couldn't afford for anything to go wrong with this new job. I know she means well but sometimes she gets in my way...whoa that's not the thought I wanted. Sohee was not an obstacle. I loved her it's just rough right now.

It was just a stressful time right now. I couldn't afford to take time off since I had just been able to move out and support Sohee and me. We are also planning a vacation later in the year to celebrate our 5th anniversary. I ran my hands through my hair as I tried to figure out what to do next. Sohee sighed and said "This is the last time." as she handed me a bottle of over-the-counter musth suppressant.

"Oh, thanks, honey. You are the best." I say with a smile as she throws me those pills Sohee smiles as she walks up and kisses my cheek. I smile and slap her ass as she walks away.

"Hey be careful because you might start my rut, and I won't go easy on you," Sohee says with a sly smile. I laugh and take the pills before going back and having the most pleasant dream of having a lovely brunch with a very naked Sohee.

I wake up well-rested and get ready for work. while I do so Sohee also gets ready. As per usual she walks by naked so she can shower. Usually, my urges are painful but bearable. They aren't complete inhibitors after all (Sohee and I both agreed I shouldn't be taking those). I feel an intense burning sensation in my crotch followed by the equally intense, and almost ravenous wave of lust. I dig my fingers into the sink and stop when I hear a crack. Sohee seems to notice my discomfort and asks with concern, "Everything okay babe?" I breathe heavily before responding.

"Yeah, last round hopefully," I say. Sohee smiles

"Good. Now get ready before I force you to call in sick." She teases as she wiggles her cute butt. She always does this but today she looks so much sexier than usual. I just want to pound her until she begs me to stop. I watch drooling but quickly regain my composure. I finished getting ready and as I did Sohee met me to send me off. I smile at her hungrily as a familiar sensation in my loins burns, and my headaches.

"See you later sexy," I say with a level of confidence I didn't know I had. Sohee smiles as we kiss. Feeling emboldened for some reason I probe into her mouth with the kiss, and get lost in it before Sohee breaks it.

"Gosh, I forget sometimes that you're a really good kisser," she replies breathlessly

"Well maybe you could cancel your schedules and we just stay home today," I say not thinking clearly. Sohee puts her hands up in an x before she smiles.

"No, I need to go to this one. it's for our comeback, just wait for me at home," she says. I nod and fall into another kiss with her. I lose control again as I grip her ass tightly

"I Love you. I love this ass. This ass is mine." I growl. Sohee chuckles before she wraps a leg around my waist. "No other Alpha can satisfy me like you do." I continue. I smile ravenously when I hear Sohee mewl before she pushes me off. "Dinobardo we both need to go." Sohee protests. Her using my full first name excites me but also anchors me. I take it as a challenge to take her then and there. The horny Alpha Part of me accepts the challenge, but my rational brain kicks in and I remember that I don't have time for this.

"I am sorry Sohee I don't know what's wrong with me," I say. Sohee gives me an understanding smile

"No worries honey. Just go to work and come back," she says with an understanding smile. I nod and drive to work. I get through three hours before naked Sohee begins to run through my mind. I begin to pitch a tent and feel the brunt of my musth and fuck it's hard to stop. wave after wave of this unrelenting lust washes over me as if I am caught in a riptide of desire, but that's not the worst part. The hornier I get the angrier and more irritable I get. My senses get dialed up to an 18 out of 10, and every little thing can set me off. the leaky tile in the corner of my office. the tapping of someone's nails in the other office three doors down I sense it all, and it drives me ballistic. This isn't even counting the massive headache I was nursing. I crack my knuckles as I try to focus but the door opens and my friend James walks in. I look at him furiously, and he nods and walks out. I barely make it to lunch before I try to take a nap but all I can dream about is fucking Sohee. I groan and get back and power to work where the heat hits me worse. I claw into my skull as I try to ride out the waves and focus but my mind because foggier as it's consumed by fighting and fucking. I need to do one or the other or I will go feral. As I release my hands from my skull I see blood pouring and realize I may already be there.

I take a deep breath trying not to let my body control me. I do the meditation practices but it doesn't help. my erection is raging at this point uncontrollably. I take another deep breath before counting to ten when I get the call. I look at my phone it's Sohee. I answer

"What's up honey," I say.

Sohee chuckles, "Where's that husk coming from? Are you okay you sound weird." she replies. Her voice makes the feelings worse as imagine fucking her till she begs me to stop.

"I don't know I feel like my skin is burning and something inside me is trying to claw its way out," I answer as Sohee listens.

"Well, honey maybe the Musth suppressant reached their tolerance threshold and won't work anymore. You sound like you're going through like 5 months right now." Sohee suggests.

"It certainly feels like I am. I have never felt this horny and this angry." I lament.

"Dino maybe you should go home and wait for me." Sohee pleads

"I am almost done for the day though I have two hours left," I whine.

"Dinobardo Michaell Benedict Jr. Go home and wait for me. I can hear the lust and anger in your voice, and I almost can smell your scent from over the phone. Go home early and wait for me before you hurt anyone. I promise I'll take care of you while your body rages against you." Sohee demands. I hesitate before relenting. Sohee wouldn't use my full name if she wasn't serious so I'd better take this seriously. I shut all my work stuff

"Okay, honey I'll go. I'll talk to you later" I reply before I get up from my office and go to my boss.

"Oh Dino heading out early?" he asks I nod.

"Good. I was about to send you home as people were complaining about your Rut Scent. " my Boss joked. I groaned and nodded.

"See you next week boss," I reply

My boss smiles and waves, "Take care of yourself." he says as he sees me off.

I arrive home with no issue. I sit on our couch and try to sleep but every time I close my eyes visions of Sohee plague them. when I finally do get a normal dream my alarm blades off and says it's time to take more suppressants I get up and feel my head pounding. I steady myself enough to go to the bathroom and Grab two more pills I take them and I notice the temporin seeping out. My blood boils my suppressant was to stop this specific thing. I look at the bottle of pills, and it reads Maxwell lord’s Marvellous which is the correct brand, but under it in little tiny letters says “musth amplifiers” The flowery letters are hard to read as my brain loses the ability to comprehend complex tasks due to the musth fully taking over. Something tells me to take another too. So I did. At this point, my brain is made a horny and angry mush by the musth the heat of my own body has become unbearable so I strip to my boxers. I try to remember what I was doing or who I was waiting for as I meander over to my bed but I can't. I fish out my dick and begin to stroke it languidly now fully in throes and acquiescing to my body’s demand t try to relieve some of the build-up, but it does exceptionally little to ease the lust I feel. I need my mate. I reach for my phone but I can't remember the code to open it. It infuriated me as I typed in numbers that swam through my head. So I am teased by my mate’s face but I can't even remember her name no matter how much I scrape my head trying to. It only serves to worsen my headache and my temperament I can't even remember my mate’s name and this is the person I wish to mark…pathetic. I chastised myself and looked at the wall trying to clear the brain fog, but the more I tried to focus the more the brain fog intensified. Time space and conscious thought all became labored concepts in my heavily lust-addled mind. Then finally I heard the door open. I heard a feminine voice ring out,

“Honey are you okay.”

I labored down the stairs through an almost endless amount of growing lust and brain fog. When I get down my mate sees me with a wicked smile on her face. I couldn't focus as she wore a crop top pushing her perky breasts up and to attention and a very short skirt that flaunted her curves and ass. I couldn't reply

“You okay? You look feral” Sohee says with a smile. My mind clears enough to remember my mate’s name and I smile. I approach Sohee and steady myself on her shoulders. Sohee looks down at my boxers where she sees my bulge. She smiles at me as she lowers herself to my crotch. I groan as she releases my trunk and it flops on her face. Sohee looks up at me with a lusted smile.

“Oh honey, you've been walking around with this all day. Let me take care of it.” Sohee says and begins to suck. I groan as her warm mouth takes me inside. I finally begin to relief and for a moment my brain fog clears.

“Oh thank god dear that feels so good,” I reply. Sohee smiles

“You're back?” she says with a slight pout. She stops and immediately I'm stupefied again. She drags me up to our bedroom and she goes into the bathroom and grabs a bottle but I can't remember what it said or reads. She takes 3 pills out of it and gestures for me to take them. I shake my head as I get a bad vibe from them. Sohee gets at my eye level her brown eyes are full of stern concern before she says

“Take them. You need this,” she says. Not wanting to make her mad I take the pills she begins to strip down to her panties (which have a stain on the front) and bra. After an unclear amount of time, my brain fog cleared, and the amount of anger I felt as I recalled everything was unreasonable.

“You dirty whore I trusted you and you poisoned me,” I yelled. Sohee’s eyes turned to slits demonstrating her excitement.

“Oh and what are you going to do about it.” she challenged. I ripped her panties and bra open, bent her over, and plunged into her.

“Is this what you wanted? I balls deep in your whore cunt.” I yell as I thrust into her cunt which is unreasonably tight almost oppositionally so. As I fight through the tightness I hear Sohee moan in ecstasy. She loves it when I get rough with her.

“Are you about to cum whore.” I ask as I pound her pussy with reckless abandon. I grab her ass and squeeze as she moans my first release comes and it comes hard. I explode into Sohee’s pussy and she moans as her walls milk me for everything I'm worth. After 5 minutes her body calms down but mine does not. I plunge back into her and she moans again I lift her back up so I can get a nice grab of her ass and tits.

“You got me riled up. You wanted my musth well here it is whore.” I say as I fuck and grope her body relentlessly. My heart hurts from what I'm saying but my body is so enraged and off normal that my brain can only continue to degrade her sinful body. I knead her Tits and ass loving the softness and bounciness of her body has as I manipulate it. I begin to feel the musth deeper, and it exhilarates my body and causes me to fuck my honey’s body with more fervor.

“That's it honey let all that cum and testosterone out,” Sohee says in between moans. I slap her ass out of spite causing her to release a surprised yelp.

“Don't tell me what to do whore. You're only used to me as a cum dump. So shut up and take it all. As I cum into my girlfriend again. She finally cums for the first time as her body goes limp from exhaustion. She falls on the bed limp but my erection hasn't let up. My body is still not mine currently so I watch my girlfriend try to recover

I watch as Sohee recovers she turns over and her eyes go to slits as I smell a familiar smell of toasted cinnamon. I chuckle having triggered her rut. She looks at my cock with a frenzied and hungry look. She pounces on me kissing and marking me. Despite my current status, I accept her mark and in return mark her back. She smiles

“Now it's official you're my whore. “ I grit and Sohee pushes me to the bed where she starts riding me.

“This cock is mine.” she moans. My hands reach out for her ass. I grab and squeeze it. The pliant flesh pleases me. Sohee grabs her tits and moans on top of me.

“I needed you to stop hiding. You're an alpha dammit act like it.” Sohee said as she slammed into my dick. I released my first moan. She begins to bounce harder and faster as her body takes over. Mine does as well as I thrust into her. We continue this merciless pace chasing our highs rather than comforting the other until both our bodies explode. I groan as the must refuses to die down. Sohee looks at me wildly and she keeps riding after that I kind of blackout. I fully give in to the musth and let it run my body

when I come to I'm slowly waking up to my dick still in Sohee. She is asleep leaving me lost and wondering what happened. As I stir Sohee yelps

“Ah careful I'm still sensitive,” she says. I nod and pull out of her pussy a deluge of cum follows. Sohee looks at me with a satisfied smile.

“You feeling better,” she asks and I nod.

“But why am I so hungry I ask

“Well, we have been fucking nonstop for 72 hours.”

“72 hours you're telling me we fucked the whole weekend away?” I asked concerned Sohee nodded.

“Yeah, I can tell your mind kinda left after the third orgasm because that's when the beast came out. I didn't know how strong you were.” Sohee teases. I nod knowingly

“Yeah, being hopped up on 180 times the testosterone I'm normally supposed to have pushed a lot of things out of me. I'm sorry if I hurt you while I was “intoxicated” I apologize

“Oh no you didn't I'm an alpha too after all I can take rough. Besides I have only heard stories about being with an alpha who has a musth it was thrilling especially since you triggered my rut. So we killed two birds with one stone.” I nod and reply to Sohee’s statement

“Also sorry about switching your suppressants with the amps. I was worried that when you did stop taking them you'd be too far gone and hurt me. So I wanted to get at least one large musth dump before our vacation.” Sohee says apologetically

“No that's fair I haven't been listening to my body and next time I'll just take the time needed to give into my musth.”I shrug and affirm

“Ooh I like that maybe I should edge you to the next one,” Sohee said as she reached down and began stroking me.

“Oh, you'd like that little slut.”

[bunnibitez]

Messy Hands - Part One

Pairing: Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader AFAB

Word count: +4.3k

Summary: Miguel is having a rough time keeping himself in check. He’s getting angrier and just wants his dues. Besides, mob protection is so hard to come by these days. Unfortunately though, you might be under his “protection” now.

CW: 18+ so MDNI, NSFW. Mentions of blood, gore, violence, guns, criminal undertones, death, choking, murder, language, slow burn, eventual smut, no use of y/n

AN: So this is my first fic EVER. Idk what I’m doing so forgive me. I speak some Spanish but not that well so sorry in advance.

There’s a scent that hangs in the air of the warehouse. The hefty and pungent stench of iron and salt wafting through, sticking to the walls. Blood splatters as it’s coughed up onto the floor. Strangled chokes and gasps of desperation bounce off concrete as a bound man fights against the ichor that fills his now punctured lung. Heaves and wheezes fill the space, nearly drowning out the sweet melody that plays. Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major. Precise movements over the strings of a recorded cello, attempting to mask the groans and whines of a weakened subordinate. The Boss had always mentioned that classical music soothed him, allowed him to work better. Something about it just calmed the fire raging in his chest. The prisoner hangs his head low as blood pools in his mouth, mixing with saliva and dripping out in fat blobs onto his chest. He’s grateful for the moment to even hang his head, or at least he should be.

Hours have passed since he was dragged here, sack over his head and hands tied behind his back. That was so long ago, he thinks. Now the bag has since been removed and he’s been fastened to a chair in the center of the cold cement warehouse full of shipping containers, the contents of which he is oblivious of. His consciousness is fading in and out as he tries to focus on the sound of his rattling chest and the crescendo of the tune. But his ears prick as the crack of knuckles catches his attention.

He didn’t dare lift his gaze, already knowing damn well of the monster looming before him. A laugh rumbled from it’s chest as heavy footsteps approached. He could’ve sworn he felt the earth shake as it approached, but the man did his best not to show the absolute terror he truly felt. Suddenly from behind, a hand trails through his short black hair, yanking his head back in order to look upon the beast in front of him. Dark brown eyes squint at the harsh lights and he groans. His face may have been handsome once but now it was unrecognizable, broken, bloodied, and bruised; split in places not even thought possible. Peter’s hand jerked his head from side to side, ensuring he was still alive. The scruffy fellow cracked a smile and laughed as he stood behind the poor sucker. Parker was merely there to assist with refocusing his gaze. With his eyes now tracing upwards, he could see the figure ahead of him. He simply whimpered softly.

Miguel was a sadist for sure. A toothy, fanged grin spread across his sharp features as he began to wipe the blood from his brass knuckles onto his wife-beater. He carefully slipped them into his pants pocket. It had gotten everywhere at this point, Miguel believing that there was more blood and bile on the floor than in the barely breathing body beneath him. Thankfully he had enough foresight to at least remove his suit jacket, tie, and button up before beginning the torture. He stood there now, splatters of gore painting the once pure white undershirt and part of his perfectly bronzed skin. A thin layer of sweat coated his forehead and massive arms. His crimson eyes glowed, dilated as he focused in on his pathetic prey. He found it funny really, amusing. He let out a deranged laugh as he ran a hand through his messy brown locks before he spoke.

“Ya know.. I can’t lie,” He said lowly as he stepped closer, “..Realmente estoy disfrutando esto.” He growled.

There was a madness in his smile. A hidden darkness in has eyes that showed just how badly he wanted this, how he needed it. It wasn’t often that he found a mole in his ranks, attempting to demolish the empire he had built with his own two hands. It wasn’t often that he was ‘forced’ to be merciless and violent. It was a shame, he thought. Trust was something so hard to come by in his line of work. When that fragile trust is broken, an example must be made. So, when a young buck gets bold enough to start selling Spider family secrets and stealing more than his cut, Miguel is simply doing what he has to in order to secure his power and place in Nueva York. He’s worked too hard and spilled too much blood to just let it all slip away.

Finally, he looked down at the heaving mess he had made, labored breaths getting fainter as they made eye contact. Miguel snaps his fingers and swiftly, Ben shuts off the music that filled the room. A deafening silence falls on the warehouse. Miguel’s monstrous form crouched, coming to level with what was once the face of a rat. His broad and calloused hand raised to squeeze the bloodied cheeks, roughly manhandling his head, turning it over and kneading it carelessly. He sighed deeply, hot breath fanning over his victim’s features before he looked up at Peter, lifting his brows for just a split second. It was a silent command, ‘Get the gun’.

Peter released the rat’s hair and stepped back to retrieve ‘LYLA’, a stainless steel Colt XSE with a custom black grip panel etched with the red silhouette of a spider. She was beautiful. Sleek and elegant but capable of obliterating a man’s skull in a matter of milliseconds. As Miguel waited, his eyes drifted back down. His grin had fully faded as the fun of the it all was beginning to die down. The rage that had been simmering in the back of his mind had begun to boil. He liked to believe that he was a reasonable man most of the time, calm and sometimes even forgiving. But now he had no patience. Right now he felt a sort of virus infecting him, shutting down all logic and leaving him with just unadulterated hatred. Venom spilled over into his words as he spoke in a low tone, growling out as he spoke slowly.

“I can’t fucking wait to see your brains painting the walls.” He hissed out. His tone was cold and flat. His face was deadpan now, ready to carry out his final act of justice. In a fleeting moment of bravery, the rat hummed lowly. Squinting his eyes, hollowing his cheeks, and jutting his head forward just so, the rat spit at Miguel. A plump glob of blood and drool landed on Miguel’s cheek as the rat gave a half toothed smirk.

“Fuck you.” It came out broken and slurred, but the rat was proud of himself.

Miguel’s eyes darkened as his thumb slowly swiped across his cheek, effectively removing the carmine mixture. His gaze was fixed on this thumb before it calmly returned to leer at the smug prisoner.

“..Y pensar, yo iba a mostrarte misericordia.” Miguel uttered quietly as he rose up from his position on the ground. He loomed over the man, whose smirk had dissipated by now. Large sepia hands shot out, tightly coiling around the rat’s neck. Miguel was slow, methodical about it. Digging his nails into flesh as he applied pressure to the trachea, crushing and throttling at once. Wheezing ensued and panic filled the man’s eyes as his throat was forced close. His eyes widened, nearly bulging out of his skull as raspy whispers and choked gasps were the only sounds he could make. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Within moments, the rat’s body went limp in Miguel’s hands. Peter was just striding back into the room when Miguel threw the corpse to the ground, still bound to the little metal chair. The useless cadaver clattered loudly on the floor.

“You seriously couldn’t wait a minute?” Peter said with a snicker as he came up to his side, handing over LYLA.

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” He spat out coldly, tucking the gun away as he turned his back on the body.

“Call the cleaning crew. I want this place scrubbed down.” Miguel growled out as he snatched his clothes from Ben’s hands. The scruffy lackey simply shrugged and shook his head, pulling out his phone to obey as he smirked to himself.

And with that, the trio headed towards the door, piling into a black Escalade. Miguel grumbled to himself as he laid his clothes down on the empty seat next him. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a silver zippo. After lighting a cigarette between his teeth he took a long drag and hummed, savoring its flavor. He let out a deep sigh, smoke billowing past his parted lips as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, appreciating the momentary silence. He felt a sense of calm wash over him, a low dulling hum in the back of his mind that seemed to get fainter as the car began to drive away from the warehouse. By the time they reached the highway, Miguel’s little hum was gone and his rage sat dormant, waiting in the back of his mind for now.

He felt his body ache now, finally taking in the toll of senselessly beating with his bare hands and a few other tools for hours. He let out a low groan, spreading out in the backseat. He was so so tired but knew there was still work that needed to be done. There always was.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The morning sun came streaming in through your curtains, stirring you awake from your bed with a groan. Plush warm sheets coaxed you into spending five more minutes among them. Your eyes had just barely shut when your phone alarm rang. An exasperated sigh left your body as you heaved yourself from the mattress, tossing the blankets off. You stretched with a whine before standing up and you swear you thought you heard your back creak. Hastily getting dressed and slipping your apron on over your clothes. Checking the time, you slipped on your shoes and headed out the door of your cozy little apartment. Brooklyn was nice, pretty with plenty to see and do with its fair share of safe and friendly neighborhoods. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t live in one of those neighborhoods. You lived on the seedier side of town with less friendly faces and cheaper rent -the side where quarrels between your neighbors could be heard through the paper thin walls and a strange smell often wafted up from the kitchen pipes. It wasn’t much, hell it was barely considered habitable but it was home. Your own little place in the world where you felt somewhat safe, far away from your old life. A fresh start was just the thing you needed. The only current upside of your living arrangement was that it was only a 5 block walk from your job.

‘Bellaginos’ was a small, family owned Italian restaurant that sat on the corner of 48th street. The dining room was divided into 2 parts; the main dining room with booths and chairs has a casual feel to it, and the private dining room with a few more candles and nicer decoré. The private dining room was just separated by 2 French doors, inside was one large mahogany table and enough chairs to seat 12 people. It was typically just used for private events and large parties, at most though in recent years it hosted a birthday dinner. The menu was nothing revolutionary and the atmosphere didn’t exactly read high class, but it was nice enough. The dingy and peeling yellow wallpaper had it’s own sense of charm to it. Your boss claimed that back in the day, “It was one of the classiest joints in town.” Obviously true by the stained and sticky carpet and how well it complimented the out of place faux Roman vases in the corners of the room.

You kept to yourself mostly, not wanting to bother the owner or the cook too much with trouble. Being polite and kind was how you ended each day with a full belly anyway, curtesy of the chef. You’d only been here for about 2 months, working as a waitress. Most days you could sit unbothered in your favorite little booth.

The day was flying by quickly and you were halfway done with your shift, sitting at one of the little red vinyl booths in the corner of the almost empty restaurant. It was tucked away in a way where you could see most of the main dining room without having to move. Your hands were busying themselves with a paper and pen, doodling away, when the little bell above the door jittered to life. Two men walked in. The smaller, leaner man with a scraggly 5 o’clock shadow held the door open, its whiny hinges complaining at the movement. He moved aside and when he did, that’s when you saw him. Dark brown slicked back curls just barely ducked below the door frame in order to step inside the shabby little eatery.

Big.

That’s the first thing you noticed. He stepped into the cramped room and his presence within made it feel like it shrank by two sizes immediately. His friend stepped in behind him, letting the door close with a slam. The second thing you noticed, were his eyes. Piercing and criminally beautiful scarlet irises that tracked around the room lazily. A bored expression played on his sharp features, as though he’s been here many times before. He runs a calloused hand through brushed back locks, a few strands disobeying him and laying messily, before breathing out an annoyed sigh. He seemed tired. No, exhausted more like it. The bags under his eyes aging him a bit, but if anything it only added to his charm. You’re about to get up from your little hiding spot to greet the pair when the owner, Mr. Caparelli, bursts out from the kitchen. For the first time since you’ve seen him, the plump and hairy little Italian man looks damn near jolly.

“Caio Miguelito!” He says through a thick Italian intonation, his joy sounding a little forced compared his usual grumbles and gripes. Mr. Caparelli was what some might call a ‘proud man’. He didn’t take criticisms well. He firmly believed that the moment you set foot within his restaurant, you owed him respect. Yet for reasons that evaded you, the giant needed not waste time with false niceties and earning his kindness. Your employer approached the tan mountain of a man with wide arms, his white mustache stretching out as he forged a smile. The behemoth pulls one hand out of his pocket and wraps an arm around the stout little man, patting his back heartily. The rings on his fingers glint as they catch the afternoon sun.

“Caio, viejo.” His voice rumbles out and you feel a heat creep across your cheeks. It’s deep and low and rattles in his chest, commanding attention. He masks his dull expression instantly with a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s fake, well practiced.

“How’ve you been, Miguel? Feels like the last time I saw you was uh.. six months ago. Normally you don’t come in to collect...” Your boss chuckles as he pulls back, looking up into the monster’s eyes. You don’t quite notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention. “Everythin’ alright?”

Miguel, as you’ve now learned is his name, nods his head slowly, humming in response. He doesn’t look Caparelli in his eyes, already done with the conversation before it began. Now, he’s merely looking down on him with half lidded eyes, sizing up his prey.

“Sí amigo. We’ve just got business to discuss. Price changes an’ all that.” Miguel slides his hand back into his pants pocket.

Caparelli’s smile falters for only a moment before he nods his head.

“R-Right,” he clears his throat, “Of course. Lemme uh.. lemme make you somethin’ to eat and then we can talk. Ragazza!” His head whips towards the little booth that you’ve been sitting in. Somehow you’ve managed to go unnoticed by both Miguel and his associate. The shaggy man smirks and rubs his hands together.

“Finally! I am absolutely starving.” He states as he licks his lips, causing Miguel to roll his eyes.

“You’re always starving, Peter.” Miguel mutters, more so to himself than to anyone else. Peter has always had a proclivity for annoying Miguel, so much so that sometimes he can’t quite recall why exactly he was his right hand man. Miguel firmly believed that the only reason Peter did anything was because it would lead to a hot meal. Such simple motivations almost made Miguel envious. Almost.

“Cara! Seat my friends in the private room.” He calls to your direction.

It takes you a moment, but slowly your form rises up from the booth and you begin to approach the men, stuffing the pen and crude drawing into your apron pocket. Miguel’s eyes widen just barely as he looks at you, taking in the sight. Meekly, you grab two menus, keeping your head down as you tried to find your words.

“Follow me please..” You say in a voice barely above a whisper. Miguel is silent, taking a moment to watch you turn around and walk towards the private dining room before he follows. You set the menus down at the head and the first chair on the left. The two take a seat, with Miguel at the head, as you fetch your notepad and pen from your apron. There’s a thick tension about the room as Miguel rests his chin on his fist, now wearing the same disinterested expression. His eyes are cold, raking up and down your body in a silent motion.

“Can I start you off with something to drink, sir..?” Your voice is soft, sweeter than he realized it was when you first spoke at him. He’s too distracted by your tone and the way you call him sir. It’s been too long since that kind of innocence was presented to him, tempting and teasing him. You must know what you’re doing, he thinks. He focuses intently on those plush lips of yours. So pretty and soft, blessed with a hardly noticeable sheen from your lip balm. He wonders how it must taste and how pliable your lower lip would be between his teeth. It takes him a moment before he’s broken from the trance and looks up into your eyes. He must’ve been staring for too long since you’re now looking at him with furrowed brows in confusion, head slightly cocked to the side like some wide eyed puppy.

“Sir..? Did you hear me..?”

He clears his throat, closing his eyes for a moment in order to ground himself. Biting the inside of his cheek, he hardly grumbles out a response. When he opens his eyes again, he’s looking down, suddenly finding the dingy white tablecloth to be very fascinating.

“Yeah yeah, te oí..” His hands tense around the edges of his menu, needing to sink his nails into the brown pleather of its cover for relief. “Just get me an ol’ fashioned.”

You nod your head, scribbling the order down and turn your attention over to Peter who was already beaming up at you.

“Just a water for me, thanks. Tonight May and I are having a tea party so I gotta hold off on the sugar.” He chirps as he chuckles, elbowing the growling beast beside him. “Oh and can we get some bread too? And some butter! And-“

“Enough.” Miguel cuts him off. He shoots a side glare at Peter, waving you off with his hand. You tremble a little at the way his voice boomed. You nodded your head quickly and turned on your heel, rushing through the French doors. Miguel doesn’t watch, feeling an odd humming in the back of his brain and knowing that if he saw the way your hips swayed and bounced as you scurried away from him in fear would only make it worse. He kept his eyes down, slowly letting them close, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he let out a low breath.

“You alright, big guy?” Peter asked, clapping a palm to Miguel’s shoulder. “You look so tired lately.”

“M’fine.” He snapped. He lifted his head and looked into the warm brown eyes of his companion. Peter retracted his hand, shooting both up in defense and going silent. In truth, Miguel wasn’t just tired. He was fucking drained of every last bit of energy he had. Business had been booming lately and with the rise of idiots in Nueva York trying to take what was rightfully his, Miguel hadn’t been able to rest. Scum like Kingpin had been hiring his own men, bribing them into selling out the family. Loyalty was becoming a scarce resource, causing more and more rival gangs to crawl out from the woodworks to oppose him. One of the biggest things the Spiders dealt in was “protection.” The Spiders would offer their protection to whomever could afford it, but the higher the demand got, the greater the cost grew. This of course was the only reason Miguel was sitting here today. A couple of Spiders had attempted to inform your boss of the rising cost of protection, but the pig headed brute refused to listen. Miguel had decided that he’d pay him a visit as a last chance before escalating things. Miguel was cold and calculated and knew the only way to make people listen was through fear.

In the beginning of it all though, he tried to be merciful. He tried to be patient and understanding, but his kindness was mistaken for weakness. His mercy was abused and left him with nothing but a fraction of the man he once was. Now the bloodlust was near maddening. Managing his rage had become a dangerous dance. The stress of running an empire often left him craving release in one form or another. First it was women, then liquor, and now his latest vice was violence. Unbridled carnage that truly let his mask of sanity slip. He was trying harder and harder now a days to keep his wrath in check but with so many people working to test his patience, he was bound to snap. The poor fellow in the chair last week had merely been the victim of shit luck. Miguel had intended to show him some mercy and make his death quick and painless. Unfortunately for him, his tongue worked faster than his head and he thought that pushing Miguel’s buttons would buy him some time. Miguel had been pent up with rage for weeks and just needed to release it on something. Part of him feared he’d always have to live with this anger, never really able to escape it, just find gaps between the killings. That is until he saw you.

For the first time in a long time, when he heard fear in someone’s voice, he didn’t want there to be any. You looked so small and soft. So delicate, like a fragile little flower. The humming in the back of his brain tuned out the constant wash of anger. For once, he wasn’t focused on work or power. In the seconds he took to gaze upon your angelic face, he felt peace, an emotion he thought he was no longer capable of.

When you finally returned with their drinks, Miguel watched your eyes flit to the floor as you approached him. He could’ve sworn he felt his heart palpitate in his chest, not fully understanding himself why he wanted you to look at him. You set down the drinks along with a basket of bread and butter and placed your hands behind your back.

“Mr. Caparelli will be here shortly to speak with you. Is there anything else I can get you..?” You questioned softly. Slowly you lifted your head, anxiously shifting your weight. Cautious as ever, you stole a glance at Miguel’s eyes. They gleamed like rubies and for a moment you felt a shutter in your chest. A whimper would’ve escaped you, had you not been more wary.

Miguel simply shook his head and looked down at his drink.

“No, thank you. That’ll be all.” Miguel says as he picks up the glass, bringing it to his lips. His tone seemed softer, just barely so. You hum in response, allowing the corners of your mouth to just barely turn upward and once again turned towards the doors. You only halted once Miguel called your name, feeling a chill crawl down your spine.

“Y-Yes sir..?” You glance over your shoulder back at him.

“Close the door on your way out.” He said coldly, losing any sense of warmth he may have just had. With that you weakly nod and close the doors behind you. The doors to the private dining room remained closed until your stout manager exited the kitchen with a serving tray of food and nervous sweat beading down his forehead. Mr. Caparelli entered the room and slammed the door shut behind him, simply hoping to survive and atone for the sins that had lead to this meeting with a killer. Caparelli set down the plates of food before the two men, taking a seat on the far end of the table, directly across from Miguel. His trembling only fed Miguel’s ego, causing a malicious grin to spread across his face. He chuckled lowly, his scarlet eyes half lidded and glaring directly into Caparelli’s soul.

“Aye viejo, there’s no need to be so scared…”

“I won’t bite.”

Part 2

@whisperwispxx

[miguelswifey04]

What if bubbly!reader passes away but Miguel still has to go to work but breaks down every few hours because he’s reminded of of something she did like bring him lunch or go hang out and cuddle with him while he worked and Peter b and everyone else helps comfort him yet that still reminds him of reader

you’re gonna make me break my own heart 😕 actually this gonna be the first time i write a death of a character, so let’s get into it 💔💔

miguel o’hara x bubbly! reader

warnings: reader’s death; angst

just like the wind comes and goes, you left behind a precious family, your friends, your loved ones, and miguel. you were a ray of sunshine for miguel’s darkest hours now his darkest hours had turned into his darkest days where you were no longer around to keep him going. if you are gone how is miguel supposed to live? how is he supposed to move on?

miguel had lost every little thing he could not hold onto, including you. what were you supposed to do when someone you truly loved dies? was miguel supposed to cope? was miguel to pretend to keep it going even if you weren’t by his side cheering him on and being supportive? these were the kind of questions everyone thought when they saw a melancholic miguel. a part of him died that day when you slipped away through his fingers. he couldn’t save you just like he couldn’t save his own daughter. now, surely that’ll eat him alive—his own heartbreak would be his own cause of death.

everywhere miguel goes, every smell and every thought connected to a song reminds him of you. no matter how hard he tries to be himself, no matter how hard he tries to cope—he cannot be the same person he was when you were alive, as if he can never be the same again. he tries to carry the burdens of the world on his shoulders but he finds himself cracking at the seams. he breaks down as he reminisces on the memories of you. the way you shined so brightly like a star high in the sky…or the way your smiled so big that made his heart ache that he can no longer appreciate that. the simple acts of kindness from yours truly, like you bringing him lunch or proving him that comfort and love he needed. the way you reassured him that he would never be alone.

“miguel, as long as you have me you’ll never be alone..i promise i won’t ever leave you..”

words were left empty, and promises left unfulfilled. how dare you slip away and not stay by his side, and grow old together…how dare the universe punish miguel when he himself is trying to save it..

“i love you so much, and you’re such a hardworking man. please never feel as if you have to shoulder these burdens alone. your burdens are mine to share.”

the pain had become unbearable. and it had become difficult for miguel to find solace in his daily routine. peter b and the others, observe miguel’s struggles and offer him support in their own ways.

“hey miguel? i’m sorry about them..i know how much they meant to you.” the same sentence gutted miguel and ripped his heart to shreds. they’d offer listening ears and comforting words, even sharing their own stories and memories of you. while their efforts bring miguel some comfort, they also intensify his grief, as they serve as constant reminders of the one he lost.

though time slowly passes, miguel has seemed to forgot the memories of your face..it’s not longer etched in his mind, and the way your voice sounded was now just but a distant memory. maybe, it was for the best for miguel to forgot about you and move on. maybe just maybe it may have been what you wanted. now, you’re a soul lingering in the vast universe with no memory of what your last life was, and maybe in another universe you could have had your happily ever after with miguel.

-yours truly

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @meeom @sabcandoit @emiemiemiii @obi-mom-kenobi

[thegnomelord]

okay i finally caved and wanted to talk about my idea for a nishruu inspired monster of sorts? i just enjoy rambling a little bit as you may be able to tell

so nishruu. red whisps that endlessly hunt down magic and magical items to sate their hunger, so these creatures are a nightmare for mages and magic wielders. all of my knowledge for these guys comes from dnd, so ill have to take a few creative liberties but im not complaining! pure nishruus are rare - as well as humans that have under some circumstances become fused with these little magic eaters. they're slightly similar to wraiths - having whispy bodies that are impossible to contain considering how they can slip through even the smallest of cracks. they look... mostly human, besides the way their forearms, into their hands, fade into a red mist that flows off of their form, and how they can turn fully into whisps and slip away. these half-nishruus rely on magic to sustain themselves the same, so it isn't uncommon for these acceptionally rare monsters to seek out mages or other magic wielders and make a deal. i really love symbiosis - and considering that half-nishruus have human intelligence, making a deal is typically the best plan for them.

the deals are usually simple - in exchange for some magic to keep them sustained, the nishruus will fight to keep the person they made the deal with alive. after all, it's wise for them to keep their... supplier? alive, considering how many magic wielders will likely throw salt the second they see red whisps. oh, and nishruus main weaknesses are salt. it deals damage similar to poison to them. some magic wielders have even been spotted with sealed amulets containing a strange red substance inside, containing these nishruus until battle comes, where they release the magic eaters (which are likely very hungry) to aid them against any enemies who may have magical weapons or spells

also just imagining a nishruu hybrid crawling over to ifrit and begging for a deal, then ifrit keeps them like a pokemon lmao

-🪸

Okay this is cool and got me brain doing the hyperfocusing thingy so here's a noncannon blurb with Ifrit set at a time when Ifrit's been, mostly, redeemed lol. Probably doesn't make much sense but idk

You stare at Price, unmoving, unblinking. Then your gaze slowly slides to the man sitting across Price's desk. Corporal Simmons shrinks into himself, shoulders hunching and looking down, unable to meet your eyes. He doesn't know why he feels like a little boy in your presence, he's your superior for fuck's sake, but the way you look at him. . . if fucking scares him.

Finally, you speak, voice softer than Simmons expected it to be. It only makes the cold edge to it press against his throat harder. "Captain, with all due respect, which is none." You say, your hard gaze falling back to Captain Price. "What the fuck?"

Price lets out a low sigh, already done with your shit yesterday. "Don't make me write you up private." You both know he won't, you've said and done worse things than this. "You heard me clearly."

"Yeah, I heard you." You say, unable to hide the way your muscles tense, your fingers curled into fists. "I just don't understand why I have to keep the damn leech alive."

Simmon's tries to speak up, "Hey, I'm not-"

"Shut your mouth." The way you say it leaves no room for argument. Even without using magic, Simmons can feel the way it simmers beneath your skin, like lava bubbling beneath the earth. So plentiful and vast it makes his mouth water, stomach coiling itself into knots as red smoke fizzles at his fingers. God, he's so hungry, he hasn't eaten in weeks.

"Captain, there are other mages that would be more than happy to have this parasite attached to them." You grunt, motioning loosely to Simmons. "I don't get why I have to feed the damn thing." You make your disgust for Simmon's painfully clear.

"That's enough private." Price's growl forces you to listen, your attention on him as he stands. "This is an order." His hand reaches out to grip your chin, his touch making your skin prickle even when the balaclava you wear dampens the touch. "You will follow." His blue eyes stare into yours, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. It's almost endearing, the way he does it, but you know enough about dragons to see the hidden dominance in his touch. "Am I clear?"

You feel yourself frown, your eyes narrowing. "If it tries anything funny I'm taking it behind the barn and putting it down."

"Ifrit." The latter half of your callsign rolls off his tongue into a low rumble. Price tightens the hold on your chin, making it clear you're skirting the line of how much you can push before he needs to tan your ass to get some obedience back in you.

It makes your lightning prickle beneath your skin, "Yes sir." You grumble. "I understand."

"Good mage." He tuts and lets you go, "Dismissed."

You nod your head, your eye catching Simmon's as you turn to your heel. "Follow." You say, the sharpness in your voice making him scramble out of his seat after you. He sticks close to you as you walk through the hallways until you reach the training area, the walls and floors singed and blackened from weeks of training.

"Just so you know." You say, turning to look at Simmons. "As far as I'm concerned, death would suit you better." You say as you take off your glove, revealing the cooled mana texture of your mage marks. You hold your hand out, your fingertips starting to glow as you let a bit of mana flow to your palms.

Simmon's nearly stumbles over his feet, hands reaching out to hold your hand. He can't help but moan as he presses his lips to your palm, the smoke coming from his arms curling around your skin. He feels like a starving man finally getting a glass of water, feeling the mana flow into his body. He feels hot, his tongue tingles like he's just eaten something spicy, but god if feels wonderful.

He doesn't think he's ever met a mage with so much plentiful mana as you, his teeth nibbling on the volcanic chunks of your palm as he devours more mana. It curls in his belly, traveling through his veins, making him feel so warm and he just wants more, more, More—

"That's enough." You growl, pulling your hand back and quickly putting your glove back on. "Should be enough for a week." You grunt, leaving him standing where he is.

[petersbaby]

Stepbro!eddie x attention wh0re reader installment #3

featuring Steve Harrington

Warnings: stepcest obviously, smut, oral (m receiving), mention of daddy issues, Eddie is a little mean, possessiveness, angst.

A/N: HIII. I wrote this last night. I’m feeling a little mischievous >:) It’s a bit dark, but not that bad. Possessiveness, like I said, and jealousy. Eddie is angsty. it may be possible to be perceived as toxic but I wouldn’t say it’s a toxic relationship. I hope you like it <3

-

You love when his friends come over. Especially this new one, he was the cutest of them all. So pretty, with hair so perfect. Over the past few times he’s hung out with Eddie, you’ve felt his eyes on you. He would check you out, taking time to see every detail. Every ruffle in the fabric of your clothes, every freckle on your nose, every single dark eyelash coated in mascara.

When he came over today, you took the opportunity to finally say something to him after so many days of frustration and romantic tension, lust, curiosity. You knew he had an eye on you and you had the same for him. Eddie had gone to the kitchen to grab them both something to drink, and you whispered to Steve the plan. He seems just a little unsure, but so desperate that he hastily nodded his head and watched you head towards your room and waiting a while.

“Where are you going??” Eddie questions as Steve stands up from the couch mid-movie and smoke session.

“Oh, uh- just the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Steve assures him quietly, almost whispering as if they were in an actual movie theater. Steve slips away and starts walking up the stairs, as the downstairs one was connected to your parents’ master bedroom and it was awkward. All of Eddie’s and your friends just always used the upstairs one.

Eddie watches as Steve ascends the stairs and fixes his eyes back on the television screen. After about five minutes, the boy sighed and looked at his watch. He figured Steve was just having some sort of bathroom problem and shrugged it off. After ten minutes, though, was when he got concerned. Eddie pauses the movie, standing up from the couch and headed towards the bathroom. Once near it, he sees that the door is shut and the lights are on.

“Dude, don’t blow my fuckin’ toilet up. Go home for that shit, cmon.” Eddie calls through the bathroom door to no response. He lingers for a second then starts heading back down. He stops in his tracks before the first step of the staircase when he hears his step sister’s distinct giggle and a soft moan following. He knew the sounds, he had you all figured out. Knew you like the back of his hand. He sneaks over to your door which is barely cracked, ever so slightly pushing it a little bit further open.

He was expecting to see you in your bed, legs spread apart under the covers and your hand in between them. Masturbating, as you do sometimes. He’s seen it plenty. When he gets a view of the scene, though, his heart drops to his stomach and he feels jealousy start to burn in his veins. Steve was on top of you as you lay back on your bed.

You were making out, and rather intensely. His tongue was in your mouth, kissing you hard and deep. His hands roamed all over your body, tickling you by accident at times when he touched your sides which undoubtedly was the cause of the giggling that he had heard.

Steve had snuck into your room, something he knew he shouldn’t have done but you were just too tempting. He tried for so many weeks and had succeeded in staying away from his best friend’s sister but broke down today.

He almost completely disregarded the fact he could be caught red handed, caught so easily. He didn’t want to lose Eddie as a friend, but he just couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always subtly tease him, every single time you caught him staring at you. You’d wear revealing clothes at home when he was there, just because he was there.

Your favorite move was just flashing a smile. It was such a simple action, but it made his cheeks flush red every time. He always got a little flustered when you acknowledged him and saw his eyes glued to your body.

He was so desperate to kiss you, to breathe you in, to touch you that he hadn’t even fully closed the bedroom door. Eddie stands before this door and watches as jealousy flows through him. The two of you are so intertwined with each other that you didn’t notice his presence.

He’d been watching for so long that he felt like he couldn’t intervene. His morbid curiosity and pervertedness told him to listen, and so he did, from the other side of the wall.

“Fuck, Steve, I need it.” You whined, reaching down to fumble with his belt buckle.

“Shit, okay, I’ll give it to you. You gonna take it all, pretty girl?”

“Mhmm” you moaned as your eyes fell down to watch the boy unbuckle his jeans.

“We gotta hurry. Gotta be fast, eds is gonna wonder what I’m- shit- what I’m doing.” He groans during the last part while he watches you excitedly pull off your shorts and panties in one go, spreading your legs wide for him.

Steve doesn’t pull his pants all the way down, just pushes them a bit down his thighs, enough to free him and nothing more. He returns to his place on top of you and positions himself right where he needs to be. You continue to kiss, sloppily swapping saliva as your tongues dance together in harmony. You pulled his bottom lip in between your teeth and bit slightly, causing him to groan.

“God damn it, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.” He mumbles into your mouth, and you only smile in response.

He starts to push inside you, but you stop it before it happens. He pulls back, a bit confused and concerned, but that doesn’t last long when he realizes you’re just flipping over. You push your ass into the air, arching your back and silently begging him to fuck you hard from the back. The rest of your body presses into the mattress as you try to keep yourself slightly propped up on your elbows.

“Jesus fucking christ, wish I had a picture to remember you just like this.”

“Just fuck me, Stevie, please.” You ask desperately. He gets tired of holding his shirt up and out of the way so he pulls it off and his hands both plant onto each side of your ass and squeeze hard. When he pushes in, it’s effortless.

Sliding so fucking easily inside. So wet and so tight that curse words begin to pour out of his mouth uncontrollably, along with your name over and over beneath his breath.

“God, Stevie, so big. You’re so fucking big, Stevie.” You babble senselessly as you start to become fucked out of your mind.

“Yeah? Feels good, hmm?”

“Yes”, you breathe out, almost in a whisper. “Been wanting you so bad” you add.

“You have no idea, baby. Wanted you-fuck- from the first time I laid eyes on you.” He stutters, having to fight the urge to throw his head back and moan out loud.

“Harder, Stevie, harder.”

“Okay, okay, I got you.”

He pounded into you with so much force and intensity that you felt the tip of his cock reach the deepest possible part of you. It was bigger, thicker, and longer than anything you’ve ever had before and it ached in such a delicious way.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmh, fuck” you cry, trying but ultimately failing to keep your noises under control.

Yes, he was mad. He was really fucking mad. But Eddie couldn’t help the fact that at this point, he has his hand in his pants and is desperately stroking himself as he listens.

That should be him, he thinks, and he simply can’t believe you seduced his new friend like this. Well, okay, he could believe it.

You were promiscuous, you loved attention. He knows it’s likely your lack of a father figure that causes you to desperately seek male validation and attention, but he wishes sometimes that you would just calm down. That you could just be happy with everything he gives you, every single day. That you wouldn’t always need more than just him.

Regardless, he’s pulled out of his thought when he hears you crying out, whining so pathetically and pornographically that you have to be beyond fucked out and about to cum.

Your body was gonna give out on you soon, unable to take Steve’s brutal fucking for much longer before you fall apart.

“Please, Stevie, gonna cum.”

Eddie won’t have time to finish himself, he realizes once he hears you say it, and he quickly collects himself and returns to the living room as if nothing happened.

“Go ahead, baby. Show me.” He mumbled, trying to keep his pace but faltering when you constrict around his cock and effectively milk him dry. After he cums, he continues on for a minute, fucking the cum back into your hole as it threatens to leak out. Your body goes weak and you fell all the way back down on the bed and rolled over onto your back.

“Holy shit.” He breathes out, hair sticking to his forehead in sweat. You smile at him, satisfied that he seemed to enjoy himself. He remembers the situation and starts to panic, jerking his pants back up and pulling his shirt on. He hastily zips them back up, and then redoes his belt buckle. You grab your panties and shorts that were still together and throw them back on, also slipping back into the sweater you were wearing.

“Shit, I- I need to go..” Steve advises you, afraid to admit the fact he had likely already been figured out and Eddie was onto him.

“No, wait.” You call before he opens your door.

“What?” He questions, looking back at you.

“Gimme a kiss.”

He smiles once again. “So sweet. Aren’t you just so sweet?” He comes back to you to give you a little peck on the lips. It wasn’t very satisfying, didn’t have much effort in it, but you decided you’ll let that slide. He leaves your room in a hurry after that, actually going to the bathroom this time.

He shuts himself in and looks in the mirror, attempting to fix his crazy hair and making sure you didn’t leave any hickeys on him. He smooths out his shirt, takes a deep breath, and heads back down to the living room. Eddie sits in the same place as before on the couch, smoking a small joint.

“Sorry, I uh.. stomach was upset.” Steve lied through his teeth.

Eddie doesn’t lift his gaze or acknowledge the boy’s presence, eyes fixed on the joint and his lap which he held it over. He lets some silence pass.

“I know you fucked my sister.” He states bluntly. Steve’s heart drops and he feels like he’s in big trouble. Eddie would probably kick him out and not be friends with him anymore. He was about to chew him out, maybe even hurt him, he thought. Instead, he continued, but looking up this time.

“My advice would be not to do that. She’s a whore.” He says plainly. “Not worth it, man.”

“Oh. Do you want me to go? I mean I-“ Steve starts, gesturing to the front door.

“Nah, you’re good. Come finish this movie with me, I’ve been waiting on you for like twenty minutes.” He pats the empty space on the couch and Steve nods, taking a seat.

-

“Alright, dude, I’ll see you. Drive safe.” Eddie says, walking Steve out to his car and patting him on the shoulder. Steve agrees and heads off.

Eddie comes up to your room, barging through the door without knocking. You jump slightly, but try to play it off like you didn’t just get startled. You stared down at the magazine you were mindlessly looking through while sitting in bed.

He clears his throat and you slowly look up to see him and his upset expression, fists slightly clenched at his sides. When he sees you noticing that, he immediately relaxes them and softens his demeanor a bit as to not scare you.

“What’s wrong?” You question innocently.

“Don’t act stupid. I know you’re not stupid so don’t act like it.”

You paused, unsure of a response to give, so he continued.

“You know how fuckin’ bad it messes with me that you try and fuck every guy you see? My own fucking friends, too.” He throws his hands up in frustration. You just sit and stare.

“Of course you don’t. You don’t give a shit how anyone feels as long as you get your attention. So fucking ridiculous. I really am an idiot.”

He shakes his head. He turns to head back to his room, ready to write some shitty songs about heartbreak that he can pass off as being about some other girl from school. He locks the door behind him and plops down onto his bed after grabbing his guitar. He takes a hit out of his bong and tries to forget about you.

When he tries to write, he only writes your name. The only thought in his head. He tried to shake it off, to distract his mind. He’s eventually able to relax, and comes up with some good lyrics and music ideas. About an hour and a half passes and he notices out of the corner of his eye something sliding underneath his door. He immediately gets up to go grab it, a little folded piece of notebook paper with writing on it.

“Sorry, eds. Didn’t mean to make you upset. Plz let me in.”

With the i’s dotted as hearts. Your signature handwriting, which he always found ridiculously adorable and sweet.

He sighs, unlocking his door and pulling it open to find you sitting in front of it with tears in your eyes. You look up at him sadly as one falls, rolling down your cheek. He reaches out a hand and you take it as he pulls you up and into his room. You sit down on the edge of his bed and he stands over you.

“Do you know?” He asks.

“Know what?” You question, sniffling.

“Do you know, do you realize, how shitty the way you behave is? Do you not see that I obviously love you or that you constantly trying to make me jealous actually hurts me?” He questions.

“No, eds. I never want to hurt you.” You respond quietly, shame burning in your face.

“Well you fucking do, okay? Calling him little nicknames like Stevie, letting him call you sweetheart and baby. It’s like you’re doing all the shit we do but with someone else. You don’t see that? You don’t get some sort of fucking deja vu?”

“Oh.” You remark, his words hitting you like bricks. He didn’t sound angry, just tired. Tired of you. You have to fix it. Can’t lose him, you absolutely can’t lose him.

“I never thought of it that way. And I never meant to make you jealous, that wasn’t what I meant to do. I just love being loved, I don’t- I don’t know, I just don’t think.”

“I know you do, baby, but that’s not what it is. Guys hooking up with you is not love, they don’t love you. They want one thing and they’ll leave once they get it.”

Another tear falls.

“I know that sounds mean and I’m sorry but I’m a guy and it’s true. It’s not love, it’s just attention. I need you to know the difference.”

“You love me?” You question, even though he’s told you before that he does, you wanted confirmation.

“Yes. I love you. And not just in a physical way, in every possible way. I’d still love you just as much if we never even touched, that’s the difference. These guys aren’t going to love you once sex is removed from the equation. I would. I do. Okay?”

You nod. “I love you too, eds. ‘M sorry. Thank you for teaching me. You know, about love.”

He can’t help but smile. So dumb, so naive, but so so precious. He reaches to pet you on the head.

“You’re welcome. Can you try not to do that again? For me?”

“Mhm. Yes, for you.” You confirm, nodding your head.

“Good.”

You look up at him with dry eyes now as he looks down on you with adoration, basking in his forgiveness.

“Can I prove it?” You ask, hopefully. “That I’m sorry?”

“You don’t have to prove it, sweetheart, those damn puppy dog eyes already got me and I believe you.”

“Hmm.” You think for a moment, then slide off of the bed and into the floor in front of him. You immediately turn your attention to his belt, fumbling with it slightly but successfully getting it undone.

“Fucking Christ”, he groans, instantly recognizing the direction this is going and basking in the way you were so excited to do this, desperate to please him.

You try your best to pull everything down, but he ends up helping you in getting his pants off, shuffling them down his legs and stepping out of them. You start to place kisses over the outline of his bulge in the plaid boxers he was wearing, sweet little kisses all over that have him growing hard in a second. You palm him over the fabric, running your hand up and down the whole length.

Again, just so, so desperate. You sat practically worshipping him, rubbing his cock and putting pretty little kisses on the head while you look up at him sweetly. He groans, and you now pull off the boxers which are easy to remove compared to his pants. His cock comes free, springing up to touch the happy trail on his lower stomach, and you take it in your hand. You gently stroke it a few times before he presses the tip against your lips.

You take it as a signal to open up, and so you do, tongue sticking wide out. He taps his dick on your tongue a couple of times before you take it into your mouth all at once, barely a struggle. His head is thrown back when your lips meet his base and your nose nestles in to the dark brown pubic hair at the end.

You suck hard, hollowing out your cheeks and moving your head up and down, and taking breaks to swirl your tongue around the head and catch your breath a little bit. You deepthroat him again, nearly choking, but you’re fueled by his sounds of gratification.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re so good. Bein’ good for me?”

“Mhm.” You hum around his cock and his hand reaches to you, tangling it into your hair and starting to move your head to the pace he wants it to go.

Eventually he’s fucking your mouth and you happily allow him to use it. It was his anyway, you figured. You just wanted him to be happy, and you knew this was a definitive way because it may or may not have been used in the past as a way to say “I’m sorry”.

You relax your throat completely and just look up to him while he fucks your mouth. He seems to already be close, undoubtedly frustrated from the incident earlier. Little bits of drool pool at the corners of your lips and your eyes are watery. Your makeup smudges slightly beneath your waterline.

“God, you’re.. you’re fucking mine. You better not fucking forget it, baby.” He rambles to you as if he forgot you can’t answer. “Don’t. Fucking. Forget it.” He punctuates each word with a harsh thrust and cums as soon as the sentence is finished.

You take it all, swallow it all down without breaking eye contact and then take your mouth off of him, wiping the saliva from your lips. You stand up, and he grabs a random pair of sweatpants to put on and sits back down, relaxing in the same spot he was before.

“Nobody could ever replace you. I only need you.” You say softly to him once you climbed into his lap on his bed and cuddled into his neck, hugging him.

“You have no idea how much those words mean to me. Thank you, princess.”

[fayetape]

“Flame” by Fayetape

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1854

CW: Angst, typical THG stuff

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Important note: The reader starts out very young but there is a time skip, don’t worry!

Hey everyone! My name is Faye. This is my first story I’ve ever published on here. I’m very new to this. This is the first part of my series “Flame” I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave any constructive criticism or suggestions in the comments :)

Chapter One: Promises

A short white dress was displayed on her twin-sized mattress. The dress was beautiful. White and lacy. Tied with small, delicate ribbons on the shoulders and in the middle of the chest. Any other day she would have been delighted to have found such a gift. She knew what it meant. Reaping day. Her first one too. All the people of district four get dressed up in their sunday-best to be forced to watch as two of their children ages 12-18 get sent off to the games, almost certain to die. This time her life was part of the draw. She had no other choice but to put on the dress. Against her own will she kept thinking about this process as if it was one of her last times ever to do such a simple thing. Last time undressing. Last time tying a ribbon. She sighed anxiously and put on a pair of white tights and black buckle mary-janes. It felt like she was preparing herself to die or dressing herself up for her own funeral. She heard the sizzle and cracks of her mom cooking in the kitchen. Her mother had been quiet lately. She had a thought. It’s because she knows her daughter has a chance to be taken from her, even when her daughter is all she has, the capitol spares no mercy. Disturbed by these thoughts, the girl walked past her mother without saying a word, only exchanging a sullen glance as she turned the handle of the front door.

“Y/N! Hey!” a recognizable voice yelled in the distance.

“Finnick! Hi.” She was excited to see him, but today there could only be but so much happiness in her voice.

He walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder, “I like your dress.”

She didn’t say anything in response.

“Look, I know today is scary, but your name is only in that bowl once out of hundreds of other slips. You’re gonna be fine.”

Finnick was older. He had already gone through the horrors of being part of the reaping for two years now. He knew how to navigate it, at least more than she did. He took upon himself some unassigned duty to protect her from the moment they met. This was the one thing he couldn’t shield her from and it made him feel unsettled. The very least he could do is be realistic and try his best to console her. He looked down at her. She was still quiet. He let go of her shoulder and held her hand. He stroked her hand with his thumb and led her into a nearby field. They would go here when things got hard. Not that they would talk about it much. Not many people knew about it or dared to explore it. Technically it was off-bounds to district four and they knew they could get in a lot of trouble with the peacekeepers. Regardless, they both agreed that a little bit of risk was healthy. He checked in all directions to make sure nobody was watching before he reached ahead to pull branches aside to clear a path. The landscape never failed to hypnotize them. A luscious field with an array of diverse greenery and wildflowers sloping down a hill to the marsh. The sound of light wind blowing through the grass and the small creek bubbling instantly calmed their nerves. Even Finnicks, as much as he tried to hide his fear.

They pushed through the tall grass onto the path they carved out several years ago. Walking until they got to the bottom of the tall, gentle hill. He always loved the water. He let go of her hand and he sat down on the damp ground. He shot her a glance proposing her to sit down.

“I don’t want to get my dress dirty.”

“You mean your MOM doesn’t want you to get your dress dirty. Since when did you care about dirt?”

He was right. She lifted up the skirt of her dress and sat down on a patch of grass that looked cleaner than the rest.

He looked over at her, a few feet away, “Not gonna dare to get any closer, huh?” He always flirted like this. Bold enough to get her attention, but sly enough to give her plausible deniability.

“Today is the one day I can’t get messy. Tomorrow I’ll take more of a risk, okay?”

He laughed, “See? You do know that it is going to be okay!”

“What?”

“You said tomorrow. You know deep down that it’s gonna be fine.”

She rolled her eyes, “I just forgot about it for a second..”

That was good enough for him. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the bugs and frogs in the marsh.

“Hey,” he said.

“I’m not moving closer.”

“Fine.” He scooted closer to her.

Instinctively she put her head on his shoulder. He smiled.

“Finn? Can you promise me something?”

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll always take care of me like this ?”

“Yes.” He said without any hesitation.

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she said.

“I promise. You know I’ll always take care of you. I won’t leave you alone, love.”

After that she just stared at him for a while, “Okay,” she said and looked back at the morning sky.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice.

She looked over at him and he nervously grabbed her chin and pulled her in. She didn’t resist. The two stared at each other with their faces so close before he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips before letting go.

They sat in silence for a bit. “Was that okay?” He asked nervously.

Through slightly labored breath she said, “Yeah. Of course.”

He smiled, “Was I your first?”

“No,” She giggled playfully.

Matching her demeanor, “Yeah right.”

“How would you know? Maybe I kissed that boy on Dove Street.”

“You don’t even know his name!” He exclaimed, “Plus I worked my ass off to keep those dumbass neighborhood boys

off of you.”

“Yeah whatever!” She said and swept sand onto his lap.

He dramatically put his hand over his chest, “How could you!” and splashed dirty water in her direction.

“Finnick!”

“You started it!” It was too

late, her dress was already muddied. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Sorry. Was that not okay?” he asked her.

“No. No. It’s okay,” she paused, “Are we dating?”

He laughed at her innocence. “If that’s what you want.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then,” he confirmed.

Just as he was about to kiss her again, they heard the sound of the warning bell.

“Shit.” He pulled her up and they ran back up the hill away towards their town.

Once they got out of the field they ran their separate ways towards their houses, breathlessly exchanging goodbye glances.

Panting and sweating she ran across the railroad tracks towards her small house. Slowing down once she could see the white paint chipping off the frame. She heard the front screen door slam shut.

“Where have you been?” Her mother yelled, “What the hell happened to your dress?”

Catching her breath she tried to find a believable excuse. Before she could explain her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.

“Were you with that boy again? He’s so disrespectful.”

Her mother was always one to hold a grudge. She couldn’t let go of the time that Finnick purposely broke one of her daughter’s toys when they were younger. Ever since then she thought of him as a bully, even though he was only eight at the time and wasn’t trying to be malicious.

“No,” She tried lying.

Her mother didn’t say anything in response and just continued to wipe down her dress with a wet rag.

Her mother smoothed out her dress, “Come on. Let’s go.”

They hurried their way to the town square.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

They separated and she was pushed forward by the peacekeepers before she could even look back. They pricked her finger and checked her into the drawing system. Her throat burned and there was suddenly a deeper hole of anxiety in her chest. Reality was setting in. Her eyes darted across the space searching for Finnick. Panicking when she couldn’t find him.

“Hey,” He said on the other side of the barrier.

Her shoulders untensed ever so slightly. She smiled at him.

The chatter of the crowd stopped as the stage microphone rang out ear piercing frequencies.

“Ahem,” the announcer decorated in a ridiculous, loud purple dress spoke, “Welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games!”

As if waiting for an applause the woman paused, “Alright then. We won’t waste anymore time here.”

She dipped her hand into the bowl swirling the strips of paper. “And the female tribute for the 65th annual Hunger Games iss…”

The girl held her breath. Feeling like she was going to faint or die right then and there.

“Julianne Halmbern!” the crowd gasped.

The pit in the girl's stomach disappeared for a split second. Not her this year. Then it set in. A girl who lived on the poorer side of the district. She hardly knew her but she still felt sickenly guilty for being relieved. Another person she knew would be sent to almost certain death. She watched as the crowd parted, making a path for the poor blonde girl, Julianne. She was stiff in fear and disbelief as she was guided up on stage.

“And the male tribute iss…”

“Finnick Odair!” The announcer exclaimed as if she had just announced the lottery.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. No. No. The crowd parted and revealed sweet Finnick. She watched his every move. She watched as he stood there in utter shock, then as he took small steps up to the stage.

“Finnick!” she cried out.

The peacekeepers were getting impatient as they ushered him to the front. “It’s okay!” he yelled out to her.

She wanted to run to him. The older girl next to her noticed her expression and held her arm protectively preventing her from charging the boy. “Finnick!”

He stepped onto the stage, hiding tears in his eyes as she yelped out for him. He thought the sound of her screams was more disturbing than getting chosen like this. Even in this moment he felt the need to console her. Before the woman in the obnoxious dress could say anything else he yelled, “Y/N! I promise! Okay? I promise!”

She nodded through her sobs. She knew he was promising to make it back to her. He vowed not to leave her alone. She tried her best to believe him. To trust him. Her thoughts raced. He was a career. He trained for this. He’s going to be okay. No. He’s fourteen. He can’t. I can’t- No. She cried harder.

And they took him away.

[angelasscribbles]

Solace

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret

Pairings: Adi x MC

Word Count: 1,647

Rating: NSFW

Warnings for this chapter: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋

A/N: So I rewrote the one and only sex scene RC gave us for these two because I thought there was a lot of untapped emotion there.

My other stuff: Master List.

Image Credit: Romance Club official Instagram.

Adi had stopped talking. I didn’t want to press him, but I wasn’t leaving him alone, so I studied the unused ballroom I had followed him to.

The window we stood in front of was magnificent, blue, green, and purple stained glass stretching from floor to ceiling and sparkling in the early afternoon sun. Ivy grew through the cracks of the crumbling brick surrounding the window, giving the entire room an abandoned feel.

Tables and chairs were stacked along the far wall, but the vast majority of the room was empty and even our hushed voices seemed to reverberate in the silence.

“How do you deal with grief on earth?” His voice was laced with so much pain it rendered me speechless for a moment. My body and heart were frozen by the anguish in his tone.

When I didn’t answer, he elaborated. “People die so often there….”

Like my mother.

Like me.

The image of my father’s grief-stricken face swam before my eyes.

What did I know about healing? I was still raw and ragged from the loss of my own mortal life. And despite the fact that she had died when I was very young, I was not over my mother’s death. Although, with time, I had learned to live with it.

I gave him the best answer I had. “There’s nothing to do but give it time.”

“Time to do what? To go crazy?” He covered his face with one hand and turned away, hiding the tears that slipped unbidden from his eyes, streaking his cheeks, giving proof of his sorrow and heartbreak.

I had no words of comfort to offer. I knew from experience that no matter how well-meaning, words were meaningless, offering little solace against the wretched misery of loss.

“Adi…” I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I pressed my body tightly against his trying to convey with physical touch all the love and grief in my heart. For Sammy, but also for him.

For my sweet, sarcastic, adventure-loving Adi. My heart broke for him. The one left behind. The one forced to pick up the pieces and go on living somehow. There is nothing that prepares you for a loss of that magnitude. No road map that tells you where to go, no playbook that tells you what to do, no guide that tells you what you’re going to feel or how to overcome it.

He was drowning in hopelessness, and I was desperate to pull him back. To pull myself back.

Because once I opened the door that grief lived behind, it all came pouring out. I may have started crying because of Sammy, but as the sobs tore through my body, I was suddenly grieving every loss I’d ever had, every bit of pain I had been shoving down deep inside came crashing through the wall I tried so desperately to keep in place. Growing up without my mother, being ripped away from my father in the prime of my life, losing the purest soul I’d met here, watching Adi sink into desolation and plunge toward despair.

He spun abruptly in my arms, so we were facing each other. He buried his head in the side of my neck as sobs wracked his body. He was crying. I was crying. We clung to each other as if our lives depended on it.

Pain, anguish, and inconsolable grief raged through us both. And yet we did console each other. Our bodies pressed together gave some slight comfort. The warmth of his body, the firmness of his embrace, the life struggling within him, called to the life struggling within me.

He was so close. His body pressed into mine, his breath on my neck, his fingers digging into my back, all gave rise to a different, but just as primal, emotion.

One moment we were crying in each other’s arms, and then suddenly we were kissing. His lips crashed against mine. Our tears mingled together. All the pain and anguish transmuted into something hotter as passion flared into existence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” With several deep shuddering breaths, he pulled away and wiped at the wetness coating his cheeks.

I stood rooted to the spot. “Adi?”

He lifted his eyes to mine; bare inches separated us. I could feel his energy pulsing between us. The mood in the room had shifted.

He lunged forward, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me back to him. His mouth was on me again, fervent kisses trailing down my jawline and dancing across my neck. His hands pulled frantically at my clothes.

I responded in kind, letting the fire of ardor temporarily burn away the endless aching agony of grief.

My clothes lay in a heap on the floor. I was naked before him. He pulled back long enough to gasp out, “Are you sure?”

I nodded my consent, my head too clouded with an overwhelming assault of conflicting emotions to speak.

He spun me around so my back was to him and spread my arms above my head, forcing me to rest them against the stained glass.

And I let him. I let him because I understood this wasn’t about love or even sex. It was about finding a way back from all that pain, finding a way to beat back the grief through the most basic affirmation of life.

He entered me roughly. I rested my cheek against the sun-heated glass and let my mind go blank to everything but the prurient primordial sensations that were cascading through my body.

His hand covered mine, fingers twining as he slammed into me again and again.

His body moved against mine, his energy wrapped around me, and deep, guttural sounds issued from the back of his throat, all conspiring to push me ever closer to the edge of the precipice.

I struggled to keep quiet as my naked body pressed against the smooth glass of the window, its warmth in sharp contrast to the cold bite of the ambient air surrounding us.

I failed. A high-pitched whine spiraled out of me as he pounded ruthlessly into me.

“Quiet.” his hot breath in my ear only sent me hurtling faster toward the edge.

Ignoring his directive, I threw my head back and lost myself completely in the fire that was throbbing through my body and the heat that was coiling tightly in my center.

As my whine built in both volume and pitch, his hand covered my mouth and I bit down on it, stifling my screams. I crashed over the edge and fell into the abyss, my mind blissfully unaware of everything but the pleasure pulsing through me.

He slammed into me once more, pinning my body tightly between his own and the stained glass as he exploded inside me. His sweat covered me as we slid slowly toward the ground, still pressed together.

He pulled out and sat next to me, his back thumping into the window as he gasped for air. We sat side by side, not talking but sneaking sidelong glances at each other as our breathing gradually returned to normal.

I caught his eye and gave him a small smile. He smiled back, then frowned and shook his head. “I….I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry?” I studied him, watching the guilt play across his face.

He didn’t meet my eyes as he stammered out, “I…it won’t happen again.”

Was the guilt because he felt he had betrayed Sammy or because he thought he had been too rough with me? Perhaps both.

I reached for his hand, entwining our fingers again. “It’s okay, Adi. It was the grief talking. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.”

It had been rough, a brutal expression of his overwhelming loss. He had needed an outlet, and I had been happy to provide it. I had borne the brunt of his pain and rage, and I would bear it again if that’s what he needed.

He finally met my eyes, rewarding me with a grateful smile, and gave my hand a squeeze. “We should…ah…we should get dressed.”

“Yep.” I agreed.

He stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. We sorted our clothes and hurriedly dressed as if we’d only just then realized that anyone could walk in and catch us.

And what had we done that was so wrong? Since when was love ever wrong? Adi and I might not have a romantic love, but the deep friendship I felt for him was love, nonetheless.

I felt anger bubble up inside me at the reminder that even though this was the afterlife, somehow my body and my heart were still being controlled by those in power. It was my body. Didn’t I have a right to do what I wanted with it? And after all, no one controls who they fall in love with, do they?  

Like Sammy and Adi. By what right did the council decree that their love for each other had been wrong?

When I first arrived here, I wanted to be an angel. It seemed like a no-brainer. Angels were the good guys. So simple.

But it wasn’t simple. And the longer I was here, the less convinced I was that was the case. Not that the demons were paragons of virtue by any means, but at least they allowed themselves to feel emotions, and that made them seem much more human to me. Those very emotions were why the angels looked down on the demons.

If feeling things made you a demon, then I was beginning to think I might be one.

I followed Adi back out into the main building, sensing his energy. It was a little stronger, a little brighter than it had been before, and nothing in the universe would convince me that was a bad thing.

[chronicowboy]

"I'm sorry," Eddie blinks, leaning across the kitchen island, "they asked you to what?"

"Lend them some sperm." Buck shrugs, fiddling with the label on his beer.

"Lend them some sperm?" Eddie repeats. The words taste heavy and clumsy on his tongue, but he swallows the bile that rises with them.

"Eddie," Buck sighs with the slump of his shoulders, "its a figure of speech."

"What are they gonna do? Give it back to you after they're done?" Eddie scoffs, tries not to think about a blue-eyed kid with golden curls running around somewhere in San Diego.

"What's your problem, man?"

"Buck, are you seriously considering this?"

"Its my year of—"

"Yes to possibilities." Eddie rolls his eyes and vows to burn every single self-help book in the tri-state area. "I know. But this isn't a decision you say yes to just because."

"The book said—"

"I don't care what the book said!" Eddie wonders if he could shake some sense into Buck, but even with his new and improved biceps he thinks that'd be too exhausting a task. "You can't seriously be considering this."

"What if I am?" Buck retorts, all the fight leaving his voice.

"Buck," Eddie murmurs, "aren't you fed up of being spare parts?" Buck flinches at that.

"Defective parts," Buck corrects, brandishing his pointer finger, "but this is proof that I'm not!"

"Jesus Christ, Evan." Eddie runs a hand through his hair before gripping the edge of the countertop. "You can't just say that. What are you talking about?"

"Somebody wants to have my kid, Eddie." There's desperation in Buck's words now, something pleading in his eyes. "Am I supposed to ignore that?"

"And you really think you could be happy knowing your child was out there calling someone else dad, quite possibly not knowing who you are?" Eddie knows he couldn't be happy, if Shannon had never told him about Christopher and broken up with him instead, if there was a little Buck somewhere in the world that Chris couldn't grow up with, if there was a baby Buck Eddie never got to hold and call his own—

"As long as they were happy." Buck breathes, but he's frowning down at the bottle in his hands now like it'll give him the answers to the universe.

"Fucking Christ, Buck."

"Eddie," Buck turns his wide, imploring eyes on him then, "this may be my only chance."

"You know what?" Eddie slips off his stool and grabs his keys from the counter. "I can't do this. Not today." He grabs his jacket and stops at the door, spinning to face his best friend. "Fuck you, Buckley."

"What the hell, man?" Buck hisses, hopping off his own stool. "Why are you acting like this? It has nothing to do with you!"

"It has everything to do with me!" Eddie shouts back. He's a step closer now, practically toe to toe with Buck and suddenly he remembers a conversation in this very same kitchen two years ago, dark eyes and a hand on a belt buckle. He exhales his anger, Buck doesn't need this from him. "Do you know why I came over here today?"

"No." Buck mumbles, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor.

"I came over here because Chris has been lying to me."

"What?" Buck looks up at him like he's been slapped.

"He's been lying for two whole weeks and I had no idea until today." Eddie clenches his jaw against the tears stinging his eyes. "My kid is lying to me because he doesn't feel like he can be honest with me, and you were the only person I wanted to talk to." His voice cracks and he takes a step backwards, falling back against the wall when his shoulder hits the doorframe. "We know so many parents, but you were the only person I wanted right there with me when I found out because you're the only one who understands—who loves—Christopher like I do."

"Eddie." Buck breathes, his own eyes glistening with tears.

"Forget it, Buck." Eddie shakes his head. "Do whatever you want. But don't you dare make the decision just because its your only chance like you don't already have a twelve year old son who adores you."

Eddie has always been greedy when it comes to Buck, but this time he doesn't allow himself that one last look. He leaves before his world can come crumbling down around him.

[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

would love to hear how the M6 handle an apprentice with a hypersomnia disorder 💛💛 someone who struggles with a lot of excessive sleepiness but really tries to push through it

Oooh, thanks for the prompt, I love it! As you didn't specify the spicy level, I'll assign ♤♡◇♧ randomly to the characters

Cracking my knuckles because it's something that hits home// The spicyness key is ◇neutral/random/funny,♡romantic/physical affection, ♧fluff/light smut,♤big dongs

So here it comes ~~~

~The hypersomniac apprentice~

~♡~

As soon as you open up to her about it, Nadia has you treated for your sleep disorder right away. Julian is sent for, and he has your treatment started by having you to keep a diary to track your sleeping, eating and exercising habits, dreams, mood, and of course any periodic cycles you may have. When he gave you the little red-line notebook, you saw an idea twinkling in Nadia's eyes, but forgot to investigate further. Shortly after, you started noticing that the palace staff you interact the most all had a tiny jade-green, golden ruled notebook with them. You wanted to ask her about it this afternoon while having tea on the veranda, but you had one of your hypersomnia episodes. When you wake up, Nadia brushes your hair from your sleepy face, greeting you with a smile. "I hope your sleep has been refreshing", she says, "in the meantime, I kept some notes for you". She handles you one of those little green notebooks that is filled, to you surprise, with little useful notes about what were you two talking about it, your immediate future agenda, the time you spent asleep and a little recap of everything that has happened.

You meet her loving gaze, speechless. "I recall how embarrassing was to ask people to fill me in on what happened during my long sleep", she explains. "I felt so cut out on the world, confused and distressed". She brushes your hand. "I made sure you will never feel as lost as I did".

~◇~

You really did try to push through this episode. Lucio looked so caught up in the game you were playing, so genuinely happy. You didn't want to let him down... but you see, trying to push through hypersomnia is awful it truly is folks, worst thing and hardly possible. Your eyelids are heavy and your neck isn't holding your head anymore. You try to rest your head against the sofa to avoid the telltale head-falling...

...but when you wake up you realize it wasn't a good idea. The lights are down, the room empty, and Lucio...? Nowhere to be seen. Your heart shrinks with guilt. You will have to apologize to him.

"Not many people know this, but Lucio has troubles sleeping. Eventually, the weight of his deeds fell upon him, robbing him of his sleep. At the beginning he started using narcotics to fall asleep, but Julian caught him immediately and made sure to put a hasty end on the dangerous habit.

Now Lucio slips into your bedroom with some dumb excuse ("thought you wanted some water" "hey, I had this WILD dream" "I'm horny") just to lay with you as you fall asleep. Watching your serene face as you sleep helps him to soothe his sleepless nights and find some kind of peace."

If you weren't so worried about letting him down, you would have put the pieces together and understood why he let you sleep -why he always lets you sleep.

~◇~

Portia knows about it, and find it so damn cute! Being the little mischievous fairy she is, she always puts you into situations where you will have troubles staying awake. This includes

getting the two of you seat for the opera in Nadia's box -this means you're next to her- and exchange giggling gazes with Asra. The three of you are the perfect partner in crime, but little did you know that you are their favorite victim.

Going stargazing with you and Muriel -he tells the BEST constellation tales and she knows that you love them and would give the world to stay awake - but joke's on her this time, for Muriel adores when his voices coddle you to sleep

Inviting you gardening in warm afternoons after some rich lunch, where she has an hard times refraining from laughing at your attempts to resist the sleep.

Today though, you realize she's doing it on purpose. In your hand there's a bunch of drawings she did of your cutest sleeping poses -they're on napkins, reciepts, grocery lists and god forbid Portia is this book from Nadia's library?!

~~~~~~~♧♤♧~~~~~~

I'll put the spicier ones (Julian, Muriel, Asra) in a reblog [THIS ONE] I'll flag as adult content :) you can alway find them from the Masterlist

Disclaimer: please remember that hypersomnia is a legit disorder that should be addressed by any means you have at hand. Don't get fooled by the "manageable" face it has: it may be caused by many underlying issues, from moderate avoidant anxiety to much more serious things. There's nothing wrong with choosing to live with it or thinking it's cute (i have it and i do), but if you do experience it, love yourself and investigate its causes! Remember, as an human being you're entitled to health.

[viilpstick]

╰┈➤ 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡: Who told to sing for someone as a way to confess how they feel for you? No, scratch that, better question… Who gave them permission to play guitar?

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: Epel Felmier, Sebek Zigvolt, Kamlin Al-Asim, Ace Trappola x GN! Reader (separately)

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Fluff, crack, kinda cringe, headcanons + small scenarios :) (if you squeeze your eyes, there is a tiny agnst in epel’s part)

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Bad english, Reader is not necessarily yuu!! A bit OOC, Barbie spoilers (? I think, it was just inspired by one scene of it), use of the word "Prince/Princess" in Kamlin's part.

this btch is the reason why I am doing this scenario 😭😭

Blame Ashton. Literally.

Alright, but seriously, he thought it was a good idea. Ashton did NOT had bad intentions on putting on this situations.

And, that man is old/j

He probably did this in his early teen years and it worked

Plus, Epel trusted him more than Vil’s advice when it comes to you (for some obvious reasons)

So, when he sees you uncomfortable face as he tries to make you think is his the most masculine man ever, he heart aches a bit, like?

“What? How… I thought they would like me in masculine way— Did I do something wrong? It can’t be, I hate to think Vil was right… They hate me, now?”

He’s overthinking! Apologize. 😡

You like Epel, but, man… Is he /srs or /j?

You’ll have to sit down and explain why you actually were uncomfortable; he’s forcing himself so much to be what he wants, that he forgets he could just be his normal self, not the ultra mega macho man, but not also Rarity from my little pony. Just… Him.

Because that’s what you like

It was the best idea Ashton had. Literally he’s so grateful he ran to him, instead of Vil. Who would make him look like a pretty princess awhile you would look like a Prince Charming. It was all set up, nothing could or should go wrong.

Taking a deep breath at the point he could feel the air whirling through his lungs, he took the guitar, a nervous smile was now forming as the confident façade was starting to fall down from his grip. It can’t happen, it just can’t. You are now here standing looking at him with a confused look waiting for his move, Epel needs to prove himself worthy.

When he starts, you cringed… Just so badly. You really like Epel, and think it’s sweet of him, but is he really just singing you “Push” by Matchbox Twenty? Thankfully, you were able to put up with it. At least the forty seconds of it, when you actually started to sweat cold. You started to check the time more than once, give a uncomfortable smile, looking around anywhere but his eyes, and it was when his fingers slip through the chords that he noticed; your uncomfortable expression.

And it may seem something he wouldn’t mind… If it was anyone else, but this is you we are talking about. He’s been crushing on you for so long. He stops playing putting down. Muttering a “Forget it,” than a “sorry”. It was when, you realized. Your mistake!

Sure, the moment was terrible. It was cringe and painful to watch. You take a deep breath and analyze, why you didn’t like that moment. Was it because of him? Definitely no. Was it because of the song? Maybe?

It took you a moment, when you realized. He wasn’t doing it for you nor him. But for his desperation for self proven of showing how strong and cool he is, Epel hates being mistaken by someone cute and pretty. He wants to be like those masculine man, those who have muscles and bodies are big.

A sigh leave your lips, as you take him by the cheek placing a sweet kiss, that trails to his mouth making him speechless. He completely looses composure as he watches you with the awe struck eyes, making you chuckle.

“I appreciate the gesture, but, next time… Put more a detail of yourself as a whole. Not just that part who wants to be something else.” A smile was placed on your face. As you reassure, behind the small letters, and choices of words, you like him for him. And honestly, that’s what matters. Maybe, the use of “just be yourself”, makes sense.”

You see that pink haired mf?

That’s the reason of why are you staring at Sebek on the couch trying to get the chord right.

For the fifty time.

You and Sebek were already dating for awhile, but usually you were the one to plan dates and take him out away from Malleus.

That’s when Lilia comes up, and says he should be more romantic with his loved one.

So, why not… Learn to play guitar, learn Matchbox Twenty lyrics of Push, take you out to hang out on Diasomnia and listen you play to him?

Good idea old man! ☝️🤓

Everytime someone passes through the Diasomnia lounge and your boyfriend is playing the lyrics (or… Trying to), you start to panic in embarrassment.

Not 100% of Sebek, you really think it’s sweet his gesture. He did put a lot of effort on memorizing a song for you and etc… But why, this song? Why??? 😭

“Sebek— I think it’s really sweet… But, it’s getting late and we don’t want you to get noise complaints—“ You try to make Sebek stop of singing and playing. But his stubbornness, was speaking WAY louder.

Sitting there quietly you waited for him get the right chord. As he gives a frustrated expression. Cursing under his breath every time he got it wrong, he even watched a video showing his to play the chord.

“Why it’s gotta to be so difficult?!” He loudly says closing his phone and putting away the guitar. Crossing his arms, refusing to look at your face. Like an angry child.

“Oh, you were doing great.” You encourage, but a small part was hoping for him to not believe at you, so he would stop playing the repetitive song that would clearly play in your brain for the next twenty four hours.

“I just don’t get it! Lilia says it’s better for me start to planning things for our time alone. And then, Grim says people love music so why aren’t you liking this?” He confesses the true reason of why he is been getting the same chord wrong, over and over again. He knew what he was doing (and probably for the first he was too shy to ask you in fear of your answer).

You simply chuckle. True, you may or may not exactly be liking the choice of song, since it didn’t matched you nor him. But, were you in any way uncomfortable with him? Never. You take his hand and warmth feeling rushes through his body looking to him on the eyes.

“Sebek, I think what Lilia meant is a date where we can hang out and you are away from Diasomnia. Grim, on the other hand, was probably thinking of slowly dancing.”

“Oh.”

As you explain you notice the realization hitting him. Good. Because, now you both look at the guitar and laugh together. It felt good that moment where only you two matter.

“But, thank you. I never had someone playing Push for me in my life.” You chuckle once again, leaning to give a peck on his lips. “And, if you want, we can plan the next date—“

“YOUNG MASTER!!” Sebek soon leaves you for Malleus who was walking by, to assist him any way.

You simply shrugs, but when you noticed his red cheeks… His reaction was purely a way to cover his shy self. You smile at the situation, taking the guitar to give you a look.

“You hold evil powers.”

No, because he did it in a Allan energy with Alladin intentions kinda of way, yk? 😰😰

It was actually sweet seeing him getting ready when…

“Kamlim, why are you playing Push?” “Isn’t that what people like?” “No?” “Oh…” There was a silence between you both as he takes a deep breath and: “I can show you the world—”

It wasn’t supposed to be in a Ken way, but when he asked for advice it was for Ace. Since, you both were close.

And instead of Ace ACTUALLY ask you for an idea, he comes up with the most random song for Kamlin to play for you

“Should we blame Kamlin?” “Or blame guitars players?” “Or should we blame Matchbox Twenty?”

No! Blame Ace! 😡

I think, Ace did not had bad intentions but he at the same time he had... I don't know

Either way, he just shrugs laugh and play another song.

Like, another day, another slay, period.

At the end was just him being innocent and not following his heart when he was going to choose a song to sing for you

Don't worry, he sings "A whole new world" for you

"A new fantastic point of view, no one to tell us no--" "--From where do you know this song?" "I don't know-- It just came to my mind." "Cool." "A whole new world!"

You both sat in his room, him on his bed and you on the floor on the blue and red carpet, you could only look at him in a endearing way, when he told you he wanted to play you a song, obviously you couldn't say no.

He sings so well, is the small touch of calmness and sweetness of his tone that could melt you in seconds. But, when he plays the first few chords your face fell into a confused one... Why the fuck. Was Kamlin. Playing Push??? It's a great song, really but, him singing it for you is just so, out of character of his "sunshine persona".

You give an awkward smile and nod trying to actually not laugh, man, his voice was beautiful. But, why Push? Who gave him that idea? His eyes were caught on you and though he takes time to understand your feelings usually, he knows something is wrong. Like, instantly he stops his tracks to calculate, were you not liking the song? Him singing? Did he got any chord incorrectly and you noticed?

"Prince/Princess? Are you okay? You didn't like it?" He looks at you with his doe eyes, but there was a worried smile after all the last thing he wants is see you not enjoying his actions, specially when is him for you.

You chuckle and smile, shaking your head. "Why are you playing Push by Matchbox twenty?" You raise your eyebrow completely confused with a signature upside down smile.

"Ace told me you would like it." He says now getting confused, you cursed under your breath. "You don't?"

"Well, I do like the song and you... But, I never thought you would play something like that, you know?" Holding your breath, you chuckle with the consuming confuse aura taking over you both.

He looks at you before smiling and laughing, as he takes to think of the situation, it was indeed not like him.

He pats the bed for you to get off the carpet, you smile sitting "Well, makes sense. So, would permit for me to sing a more... Characteristic song for you?" You raised your eyebrow yet, didn't denied, he starts play a familiar yet unfamiliar tone. Like, you have heard it before, but at the same time it was something completely new. Softly smiling upside down to him, your hand went to your legs as you heard him play.

"I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid!"

Did for the meme, I think...

Honestly, Deuce and Grim were watching you both from afar with popcorn

(I hope you are ready to have lots of memes of you face trying to NOT laugh)

Kinda cringe to see him thinking he's nailing it 😭

Girlie thought he slays 💅

He tried???

We can’t defend him, it was his idea and he thought it was a good one 😞😞

Honestly, you felt like doing those “don’t laugh challenge” but when you do…

At first he pouts as he stops playing, but man is so head over heels he can’t stay mad at you, honestly

He laughs a long with you, maybe he noticed how cringe it was, maybe not, but he never felt that good

You and Ace aren't exactly together, this is your second date, there was no kiss in the first date, and you hoped for this one you would be able to press your lips against his. And from all of things, he could've planned... All the things he could planned. Him singing to you Push by Matchbox twenty? Was out of your predictions to these year on your list.

From afar you saw Deuce and Grim laughing at the situation as you sat with a desperate look on trying to contain any laughter to come out of your lips.

It pains you, it was such a cute act. But, then it's Ace and he's trying to impress. Aside that, he does play really good. Now, does he sing well? Sevens, no.

Your lips trembles, holding you breath to calm yourself down. Your smile was there but each time he looks away it turns into an upside down smile. You were sweating cold, man.

Plus, the song seemed to never end! Like, you are struggling! And Deuce and Grim laughing behind you both, trust me. It. Didn't helped your situation.

"Well, I won't do anything at ahLL-" He sighs in dissapoint when he get that note wrong... "Shit. Ha... Sorry."

He says. But, how were you... When he got a note out of tune, it was the last drop. The small slip in a normal situation would be unnoticeable, but this was a try not to laugh at Ace, level impossible. When that one note was played wrong. You couldn't contain any longer. As you almost fell behind laughing holding your tummy.

Ace looks at you with a pout, why were you laughing? He made a mistake it was not funny! Deuce and Grim on the back were now laughing even harder, if that was somehow possible? Deuce even chocked on air.

For a moment, poking fun at others was no longer entertainment. But, you couldn't stop, it was really impossible at the moment. He looks at you laughing with a small tear at the corner of your eye, the surroundings seemed to freeze. You really look beautiful, honestly, it didn't matter if your laugh was scandalous or in mute, if you putted your hand before your mouth or opened your mouth fully. He was just, like, completely at your mercy, by your mere existence.

"Sorry, Ace. It was Deuce and Grim's fault, I swear--" Your apologise fell into his deaf ears as you slowly calmed down. But, you wouldn't be able to process it correctly anything else, after he puts his hand under your chin pulling you closer to his lips, his breath tickled your upper lip as he pulls you into an endearing kiss. It took seconds for him pull away, leaving you with a blank expression awhile inside of you there were not even butterflies, just exploding fireworks in your stomach.

His laugh was what brought you back to where you were, to reality, closer to him.

"Heh... It really wasn't what we expected or first kiss to be. Don't worry in another life, I won't sing Push for you."

(A/N: When I was watching Barbie, Epel was all I could think about in that scene 😭)

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST IN OTHER MEDIA MY WORK viilpstick © copyright 2023

[vulturereyy]

Outer wilds nation I hit a certain point last night and the Nomai brainrot has kicked in. Please no spoilers still even if I'll get my lore wrong here, but everyone say hello to Fig :)

Copy pasting my discord ramblings under the cut. Outer Wilds spoilers are a given.

because i cant not project on characters: what if Fig is dyscalculic/dyslexic imagine being in such a writing and precise numbers based society but everything blends together for you

I think she may have been among the first generation born on ember twin. Like her poor parents were already pretty much ready to have her when they had to hop in the escape pods and such, so she was born very shortly after the crash by a few months. And i say that this is important because i think the nomai would have been a very accessible race imo, Solanum didn't even think twice about offering alternate communication methods. But the fact that Fig was born while they were rebuilding their society meant that she likely didn't have the same resources at the time/there were a lot of other stressors to focus on Perhaps Fig is even partially the reason why alternate communication methods sort of come around, at least in the society on ember twin, though that's headcanon territory

Anyway, she grew up not really doing… the best. No one could understand why she wasn't grasping very basic reading and numbers milestones, she was getting angry and feeling stupid because she wasn't getting them, it was a whole thing. She could speak into logs and record them, but when it came to reading them back, she struggled even with her own words. (for a while she was able to practice and memorize what she was going to say, but they learned that's what she was doing when they secretly swapped out the log and she confidently recited her own words instead)

And she kind of slipped through the cracks with the whole 'literally needing to rebuild our society' thing. By the time the high energy lab was starting up, she was an embittered teen, and kind of relegated to the black sheep of the clan. Not quite outcast, but it was very clear to her how different she was to everyone else. She fetched water, she tended crops, she swept out sand, but no one ever invited her to the forums or the lectures or the scientific meetups that are so pivitol to their culture.

Maybe Hickory, one of the older scientists at the new lab, was a friend to Fig's parents. And they kind of begged her to take Fig in, even if it just meant having her sweep the floors free of sand, because it would give her something to do that wasn't putting cactus spikes on people's seats.

And so Hickory did. And Fig was Very Mad about her new job. She hated science. She hated numbers. Why is she in a lab. Is this some kind of a joke? Putting the one Nomai that can't do research on shit in the lab as a cleaner. fuck off about that

But then Fig got to see Hickory testing out the new warp cores. And feel the miniature black hole's gravity tug at her and make her fur stand on end even as she was across the room. She watched Hickory take her notes. She watched her toss something into it, take more notes. The entire lab is thrumming with the force of the power needed for this experiment. Hickory looks over her shoulder. She's noticed the sound of sweeping has stopped. Fig tries to scowl and go back to doing her job as if she never stopped, but then Hickory says, "We only have a few more minutes before I have to return the power to the city. Would you like to see before I do?"

And Fig can't help herself. She tries to play it off but yes she really wants to see. She clip clops herself over to Hickory cautiously and peers into the testing chamber. The Black Hole is like a void, staring back into her. She doesn't know what to feel about it. It's the gravity that makes her shiver, she thinks. Hickory is trying very hard not to smile as she calmly explains what she's testing. The lab is supposed to be getting a white hole core soon, she explains. The black hole connects to the white, an input and an output. She's trying to see if she can still get readings off of the sensors she's sending into the miniature black hole while it does't have an endpoint yet.

Fig asks if Hickory thinks that when they open up the white hole from the core, everything Hickory threw in is gonna come spewing out at once, like a backed up pipe. Hickory's brows go up. She looks back to the black hole, considering, and writes something down. She tells Fig she thinks that's an excellent question.

Fig throws her broom into the black hole. Hickory doesn't stop her. More importantly, she doesn't scold her.

Because she just confirmed this ragamuffin little nomai still has her spark of curiosity :) She lets Fig be the one to reroute the power back to the city. It's just a simple crystal ball switch, but it feels very powerful to do.

Hickory becomes the one to give Fig the patience and culturally unorthodox teaching that she needs. It's a combination of Hickory's personality, but also the fact that the clan is settled now -- they are now out of survival mode and imminent death, and able to… relax, mentally, a lot more. And Hickory, through a few arguments that eventually turn more into very vulnerable conversations, finally learns that Fig struggles with their script and the numbers and letters all jumble together.

She carves stones together, and pictures, and symbols at first, so they make their own 'script' together that is pictography in nature. Fig starts taking her notes in it.

Eventually this would evolve into her own form of script, but there were a lot of baby steps involved before that point. And Fig, instead of being just the lab cleaner, very readily becomes Hickory's star apprentice on black hole theory and warp technology. She hopes one day she can even be a shuttle pilot, or operate the white hole station herself i think it would be neat if in game on ember twin you'd find those pictograph scripts and the translator can't pick them up. but then in the high energy lab in a side room that's more like a study you could find a notice from hickory on fig's picto-script, and the key for deciphering it (and also a notice, purposefully written close together so fig won't parse it, saying that if anyone has a problem with fig's script they can take it up with hickory personally) (a little thread underneath this from someone else suggests that their questions on its scientific integrity was met with the most scathing dressing down theyve ever had in their life)

So from then on you are able to translate her scripts and find her little notes everywhere :) she may even 'help' lead you to shortcuts, because she explored alot of ember twin in her youth when she wasn't doing anything else, so she went back and marked all her hidey holes and shortcuts Design wise, she has a black and white hole tattood on the back of her hands. One, because she thinks they are fucking cool, and two because it helps her distinguish her right from her left

[just-wrting]

hiii, i just read ‘family time’ (absolutely loved it btw!!) and i was wondering if you’d want to write a follow up where aaron confronts the neighbour for example? :)

Aaah!!!!!!! Yes! It’s short but I hope it’s okay! I’m more of a fan of reader inserts being in second person so it ended up like this. If anyone wants it to be masc pronouns just let me know and I’ll alter it.

A bit of a TW: the neighbor is creepy towards a minor! Only mentioned not written as a full scene!

Despite it being Sunday morning, you make your way to the mailbox. With the scorching heat of yesterday, you chose to not get the mail. Since the kids are still asleep, it’s the perfect time. You slip on a pair of sandals and gently push open the front door.

As you’re basking in the morning air, you hear the neighbors arguing about who’s going to answer the door. You don’t know who makes a house call this early, but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you creep over to the fence to listen in. Another sharp knock at their door and it creaks open.

“What do you want?” the husband snaps at the mystery person. “Don’t you know it’s rude to knock on someone’s door at the crack of dawn? You better be having an emergency.”

Peering through the tiny crack in the fence, you catch a glimpse of one of Aaron’s casual shirts. At this point, you can’t help but stay.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to ogle at women?” you husband counters. His voice is icy and it sends shivers down your spine. “Or do you not have basic decency?”

You can hear the older man scoff. “Maybe your wife should have some decency. If a woman doesn’t want to be looked at, she shouldn’t wear that sort of thing.”

You already know the sort of look Aaron is making now. His eyebrows will be furrowed and his mouth set in a thin line due to his jaw being clenched. The neighbor is lucky that Aaron does his best to stay away from violence, even when provoked.

“What does it matter what my wife wears in her backyard? If you can’t keep your eyes to yourself I should tell your wife.” Despite the even tone, anger seeps into his voice.

“My wife isn’t going to do shit about what I do!”

The door creaks as it tries to slam shut, but you see Aaron shift. He’s stuck his foot in the doorway.

“Mr. Williams, as you know, I’m a government agent. I know that it’s not just my wife you’ve been looking at, but Tim’s wife too. I may not get violent with you, but I can’t say for certain what Tim will do.”

You hear Williams snicker. “That’s why I’m not scared of you. That dumbass Tim will never know I look at his woman.”

“I also happen to know you watch his daughter too. You do know that she’s only a freshman in high school, right? Not college.”

You imagine the color draining from his face. It’s satisfying.

“You’re just guessing!” he shrieks. “If you tell anyone this stupid lie, I’ll sue you for defamation!”

Aaron has the upper hand, and you smirk. This bastard will finally reap what he’s sown.

“Actually, I have video and audio evidence of you harassing my wife and the Harris women. It would be a shame if I sent it to Tim.”

“Alright, alright! What is you want? An apology?” You see his hands get thrown in the air. “Fine. I’m sorry Aaron for looking at your wife when she’s off limits.”

You hear a thud and see Aaron’s hand gripping the doorway. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve never heard before. It sends ice through your veins.

“What I want doesn’t matter in this scenario. How dare you assume that by giving me an apology I will make this go away.”

“Well then,” he sputters, “what do I need to do to make this go away?”

“There is no longer anything you can do. I will be emailing the footage to Tim and anyone else in the community I see fit.”

With that, you see Aaron start to head down the stairs. You rush away from the fence and do your best to pretend like you hadn’t been listening in on him. Unfortunately, he catches you at the mailbox.

“You didn’t get the mail yesterday, darling?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“No, it was just too hot. What brings you outside at this hour?”

He makes a very unpleasant face and sighs. “Some unsavory business, dear. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You play innocent and bat your eyelashes at him. “You’re okay though? You’re not hurt in anyway?”

His hand guides you into the house, and you resist the urge to tell him that you’re very happy about what he did. You also do your best to smother the thought of how hot you find him when he gets all protective.

“I’ll make breakfast while you wake the kids.”

You nod and place the mail on the entryway table. “That sounds like a plan. Gives you some time to plan.”

With a soft smile, he leans close to again. You anticipate another kiss, but instead feel his breath on your ear.

“As much as I love you, you’ve gotten terrible at hiding things from me. You could’ve gotten closer.”

Aaron gives your hip a squeeze, before giving you a proper kiss. You gently shove him away, shooing him off. Thankfully, he just chuckles before heading to the kitchen.

“So you also know I think you’re hot when you get protective?” you call after him. “Am I that easy to read?”

His laugh gets louder. “I don’t need to be reading your body language to know that. You’re prone to finding me attractive when I do a lot of things.”

You head upstairs, pouting. “He’s lucky I love him. And that he’s the best man ever.”

—-

The next day, there’s a verbal fight next door. At least, that what the cat lady across the street tells you. Aaron had swept you and the kids away to BAU.

Apparently, the Harris family had called the cops and gotten Mr. Williams arrested on peeping Tom laws against his wife and daughter. His wife never said anything, and let him be taken out. While Tim never said who tipped him off, you caught him and Aaron talking.

Shortly after, the Williams’ house was empty.

[aritsukemo]

A Second Chance | Part One

Yuichiro Tokito x GN Drug Addict Reader

Warnings: Drugs are very vaguely implied but may be more heavily implied in the next part! Read at your own risk!

A/N: This is my first fic on here so I'm both nervous and excited! Thank you to my good friend 2pinksouls for listening to my long rambles about this as well as helping me with the choosing title ideas and giving me the motivation to complete this!

Part One | Part Two | Pink's Wattpad Account

Soft, irregular beats resonate throughout the once silent apartment as the sound is just barely heard over the thundering rain. It's melody travels throughout the entrance way, making it's way into the sweet smelling living room where the young seventeen year old, Yuichiro Tokito, sits comfortably on his plush sofa with a book in hand. As the irksome noise slips into his ears and draws his attention, mint green eyes subconsciously drift to the clock which reads 11:27pm—way too late to be expecting any visitors, he thinks.

He tries his best to ignore it at first, shrugging it off and drifting his attention back to the dank colored pages that were stained with words that most people would have trouble comprehending. His eyes scan over the text, his hand wandering down to wrap his delicate fingers around his small cup that was filled with steaming black tea with a hint of almond milk, his favorite, as he's once again absorbed in the mystery. He had lent the book from a coworker and was already pretty far in. Long having read past the overly foreshadowed murder and the annoyingly long investigation process that they dolled up with unnecessarily complex words and other plot elements, and finally getting into the long-awaited trial process which was, supposedly, the 'bestest-most-heart-throbbing-most thrilling-most satisfying' part of the book—or so his colleagues jest.

Knock. Knock.

He groans, his concentration breaking once more and his patience thinning like a rope on the brink of snapping, not that one could blame him. It was late at night, a Tuesday, technically a school night if he were to be so childish to say, and he lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. There was literally no reason for someone to be bothering him at this hour so who—

 "Hey, Yui.." A brief, timorous chuckle escapes your lips, "It's been a while, huh?"

Oh hell no.

With his face scrunching and his hand now tightly gripping tightly gripping his door, Yuichiro attempts to slam it in your face only for his failure to ring through the apartment as the sound of your pained exhalations. You had put your foot through the doorway just in time, successfully preventing him from closing it on you. Unfortunately, it was at the cost of your poor foot which had been painfully squished between the doorframe and the door itself.

With clenched teeth, you tried your best to ignore the throbbing of your foot as you flash Yuichiro a wrinkled smile through the crack of the door, "Yui--"

 "Go away," You wince. The sheer tone and volume of his voice speaks bounds, you're the last person he wants to see right now, but you can't give up yet. After all, he's the only option you have left..

 "Please, I just want to talk- Well, not really 'talk' but more of uhm..ask a favor.." Yuichiro's eyes widen. You want to ask him a favor? Despite everything, you actually had the audacity to come here and attempt to ask him to do something for you?

 "Forget it," He snarls, "Now go away before I call the cops."

 "Please, Yui!" You take a shaky breath, "..Please, hear me out. I promise, it's not what you think."

He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't hear you out. Hell, he shouldn't even be wasting his breath talking to you right now. But with you, staring at him through the crack of the door, your eyes begging for reconsideration and your face and hair seemingly drenched like some wet puppy..

Yuichiro sighs, "I'm giving you ten seconds. That's it," He keeps his hand firm on the doorknob, making it painfully clear of his intentions of keeping you out, "Talk."

 "Right! Uhm- Look, I know you're probably still mad. I mean, who wouldn't be mad at a person for doing..what I did--"

 "Eight..seven--"

 "Okay, okay! I know we aren't on the best of terms right now and you probably hate my guts but--!"

 "Five. Four."

 "Agh-! Don't speed up!" Your voice involuntarily raises in pitch before immediately coming back down to it's usual tone, "I- I was just wondering if--!"

 "Two..one. We're done here," And with that, Yuichiro kicks your foot away—you letting out a small 'Hey!' in term—before quickly closing and locking the door. Your annoying knocks return, albeit this time they're more frequent, more frantic, downright rowdy and obnoxious which makes them hard to ignore.

How irritating.

 "Please, Yui! Come back! You're all I have left to turn to! I'm begging you!" Your shout, your voice sounding small compared to your loud knocking, "I have nowhere else to go!"

He halts, "What do you mean you have nowhere else to go? Go home."

 "I can't! I was kicked out and.." You pause, mumbling, "..It's complicated.. Can I please, please just stay here for the night? I promise I won't be a bother!"

 "You've got to be kidding," Yuichiro replies under his breath, "No way."

 "Yuichiro, you don't understand! My brother kicked me out and I have no money! Hell, I- I don't even have a car to sleep in! I have nothing, nowhere to go, and no one to turn to! Please, please, please let me stay the night! I'll.. I'll do anything!"

Anything. Heh, what another hilariously tasteless joke. To say you would do anything is both humorous and exasperated. After all, you can't do anything, or at least, not what he wants you to do. You can't turn back time and prevent yourself from doing what you did, you can't go back and be there for him when he needed you most, you can't go back and wrap your arms around him and comfort him after you left him all alone. You can't do anything.

And yet, Yuichiro finds himself hesitant to walk away, to pack up his book and tea and go to bed and tune you out until you eventually give up and go away. For some reason, he's hesitant to leave you wet and alone in the rain like you did to him.

And so, he walks back over to the door and slowly cracks it open.

 "Do you really have no place to go?"

Voice reduced to a mere whisper, Yuichiro's unreadable eyes scan your surprised expression, trying his best to find even the smallest lie—the smallest excuse—that would convince him to close this door and not look back.

Unfortunately, he doesn't which resulted in him staring into your pretty eyes for longer than he probably should've.

 "Yeah.." You finally mumbled, finding yourself unable to break away from his gaze and as a result, becoming completely captivated by his minty hues, "..Yeah, I have nowhere to go..honest."

You could easily be lying to him. It wouldn't be your first time after all. For all he knows, you could have your car parked somewhere nearby out of sight or be lying about being kicked out and just using it as an excuse to get in his house for whatever reason. Although, at the sight of your muddy, wet shoes—which he deduced is probably from walking long ventures in the rain—and your equally dirty, disheveled clothing that seemingly becomes more and more drenched the further down he looks, the chance of you lying seems less likely.

Even so, part of him is screaming at him for even humoring you this much. After all, you managed to break his trust in so many ways, all at once, and yet he stands here, peeking through the crack of his door like a little kid, listening to you beg him to let you in. How ridiculous, he thinks to himself, letting out a deflated sigh as he opens his door fully.

 "You're only staying for the night," He turns away from you, beginning to walk away, "I'm kicking your ass out as soon as the rain stops."

Yuichiro pretends to not hear your relieved breaths and chooses not to acknowledge his heart which skipped the smallest beat when he glances back to see the appreciative smile etched on your face as you stepped through the door. Your boots drag and drip mud, staining his clean floors with it's muck, the sight makes Yuichiro's nose scrunch involuntarily.

 "Take off your shoes and place them over there," He aimlessly points to an area near you, "And don't move from that spot. I don't want you tracking rain and mud everywhere."

After saying that, Yuichiro turns his back to you and walks away in the direction of his bedroom, grumbling something about finding clothes that would fit you under his breath before disappearing, leaving you to stare at his place, awestruck.

It hadn't been that long since you last saw him but in that little time, Yuichiro had managed to completely upgrade his living situation. I mean before, when you two were still together—when you two were struggling together—he was still living with his step-parents, living in that small, cramped room, but now he lives in a semi-large apartment decorated in marble and filled with nice, sleek furniture you could only dream of buying yourself. Best not to break anything while you're here, you note.

 "Here," Was the only warning you got before the satisfying feeling of a hot towel envelopes your face, clouding your vision with it's thick material. You let it sit there for a moment, a small hum leaving your lips when you slowly remove it, revealing Yuichiro who stares at you with an expectant look.

 "This towel.." Smells like him. Like almond milk, lavender, and the smallest hint of something else indescribable—a soothing smell that makes your heart swell with a feeling akin to comfort, "Is so warm. Did you just get this out the dryer?" Is what you end up saying.

 "Yes, but it's was sitting in there for a while so I put it in my towel warmer." He states, his eyes narrowing when he hears you snicker.

 "What?"

 "You have a..towel warmer?" You ask, your lips twitching upwards to from an amused grin, "Is that really necessary?"

Yuichiro clicks his tongue and without much thought to it, he replies, "Are you necessary?"

 "Do you think I'm necessary?" You ask as you began the tasking process of drying your drenched face.

 "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

A chuckle escapes you, "Well when you ask like that..not really?"

 "You sound unsure," A small smirk crosses Yuichiro's features, fitting his face like a glove, "If you want to know so bad, I'll tell you. Can't promise my response will be a nice one though."

"Mm, I'll pass," You shake your head and like a wet dog your hair swings and sways, water flying everywhere and some droplets even landing on Yuichiro in which he shields his face with his arm and groans, "I'm not one for degradation."

With a little 'tch' leaving his mouth through slightly clenched teeth, Yuichiro speaks, his irritated tone returning, "Come here."

Without thinking much about it you comply and walk over. You fix your lips to ask him—and possibly tease him—about his sudden request but as his warm hand touches your icy cheek, you find yourself unable to speak or even move.

"Yui..?" You whisper, your once droopy eyes widening just a little as you locked eyes with his. His eyes roll heavenward at the sight of your surprised expression and as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he grabs the towel out of your hand—fingertips brushing along the veins of your hand and tickling the skin—as his other hand remains rested on the plump of your cheek.

"Idiot," He grumbles, both at the mention of that accursed nickname and at the sight of the wet floor around you, "Your hair is dripping water everywhere," His free hand moves up, resting on the shell of your ear as he wipes away the water that trickles from your edges with the other, "Are you so incompetent that you can't even do something as simple as this without making an even bigger mess?"

Yuichiro continued his small rant, complaining about how slippery the floor will get after he cleans up all the water due to the material of the expensive flooring but to you, it was like all his curses and complaints flew into one ear and came hurdling out the other. As if he somehow casted a spell on you, you found yourself unable to look away from him, taking in all his little features, all his supposed 'flaws' as well as his many perfections, as if were the last thing you'd ever do.

From his black hair that gives off the illusion of ocean waves from how wavy it is—a product of always having his hair braided or bended into some bun or braid—to his lovely eyes that he always seem to narrow at the things or people that even slightly upset him, to his cute little ears and his smooth lips that you know for a fact are soft to the touch and even the little mole near his neck that he always tried to hide with turtlenecks and hoodies despite the many times you've kissed him and told him how adorable him and his mole is. ( In which he'd blush and push you away which leaves you giggling at him as a result )

"Hey.." Yuichiro's voice is what pulls you back to reality, the one who sets you free from the spell he unintentionally set on you as he strips the warmth of his palm from you. You blink, realizing that he was no longer roughly rubbing at your head and face with the towel and was now staring at you with a scowl on his face, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I.. I..uhm.." Here you stand, warm-faced and at a lost for words as if he asked you some complex math question. It was simple, really. You were staring because it's him who's in front of you. Him, who's currently staring into your soul with those damned blank, beautiful eyes. But you can't say that. If you did, you fear your bed tonight will be the cold, wet bench down the street..

"Anyways.." You break eye contact, scanning the area in a hast to find something, anything you could to try and change the subject only to mentally curse at the inconvenience. It's just like Yuichiro to keep his place clean and rid it of anything that's not useful to him at the moment. ( Unlike your room at your brother's house which is covered in dirty clothes, wrappers, and smells like a crack den )

"Uh.. How's your family going?" Oh how the regret immediately sunk in as you watched Yuichiro's face scrunch up in pure disgust at the question—a reasonable reaction considering what has happened and what they put him through.

"The same as always," He mutters only for you to immediately reply with a small 'I'm sorry' which results in him looking away.

"You're apologizing for that? Out of everything you did, that's what you're apologizing for?" The breath he lets out is one full of disbelief and you manage to catch the way his index and middle finger dig into the fat of his upper arm ever so slightly, "Way to prioritize."

"I just didn't want to make things awkward."

"Is that right?" Yuichiro heaves out a laugh, one short, airy, and slowly filling with his pent up rage with you, "Well I think we long passed that point. Especially after you come to my doorstep like some sad puppy after ghosting me for what, two years now?"

"I didn't 'ghost' you I just—"

"Ran away and ignored the many, many texts that I sent you asking where the fuck you were and not answering any of my calls or replying to any of my voicemails?" He replies, voice pointed like a sharpened blade, "I don't know if you realize but that's the exact definition of ghosting someone."

"Look I'm sorry, alright?"

"You're sorry? You embarrass me in front of my step-parents and friends, you steal from me on my fucking birthday and ignore every single one of my attempts of contacting you and all you can fucking say to me is sorry? Are you kidding me?"

"I have my reasons for doing what I did, okay?" Now you're starting to get frustrated. Blame your heightened senses but his blatant accusing which was caused by miscommunication on your part was making your blood boil. Nevertheless, Yuichiro doesn't seem to notice or if he does, he doesn't care.

"And what reasons are those? Huh? Were those reasons so good that you had to throw everything away for it? Was your reasons so amazing, so damn irresistible, that you had to push our relationship and my trust aside as if it meant nothing to you—As if I meant nothing to you? Huh? Tell me!" Yuichiro's letting his emotions get the better of him, he knows and is painfully aware of how embarrassed he'll be afterwards but he doesn't care right now. Right now, he just wants to know what happened, why it happened, and why he wasn't able to prevent it from happening.

"Just tell me the truth. Was this all my fault? Did I do something back then that upset you so much that you wanted to get back at me like you did? Were you tired of me complaining about my step-parents? Did I come off as if I didn't care about you or something?" He wraps his arms around you and to your surprise, he buries his face in your chest, "I can't take this feeling anymore.. Feeling as if I wronged you in some way yet not knowing what I did wrong. I hate it, I despise it, and I'm losing mind over it! So please! I'm begging you, tell me what I did wrong. I- I promise never to do it again! I..promise to treat you better.. I promise anything, just don't leave me alone again! I can't do this without you anymore.."

No. No. You can't. You can't tell him. As much as your heart aches to see him in such a desperate state, ( Even worse since that desperate state was caused by your absence ) you can't tell Yuichiro why you did what you did. That because you couldn't be like him and handle the pressure—because you let your intrusive thoughts get the better of you—you stole from him and left him to fend for himself in order to pursue your own selfish desire of escapism..

"You did nothing wrong," You push him away as gently as you can, ignoring the way you can almost hear your heart breaking as you say, "..I no longer felt anything for you and that's why I did what I did, plain and simple."

Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you're still in his home. If he wanted to, he could scream and kick you out and leave you alone in the rain like you did to him. ( And you wouldn't exactly be mad if he did, it's an understandable reaction in your opinion ) But he doesn't and instead turns his back to you, his bangs covering his eyes like a stage curtain.

 "I see.." He says, tone low, "..I'll go get you some blankets and some fresh clothes then. It's getting late and I don't want you to have any excuses tomorrow that I kept you up all night or something.."

Without hearing your response, he walks off and as you watch him, you fail to notice ( or pretend not to notice ) how his fist remain clenched—a desperate attempt at controlling the tears that threaten to fall as he begs to the gods above not let his sobs escape his throat before he can make it to the not so comforting confines of his bedroom.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[neonacity]

ARCANE : INIZIO | CH.7 | NCT DREAM X READER

Summary: When human deviants granted with the abilities of the legendary Arcana cards find themselves racing against devious forces, they are left to make a choice that might change the fate of the world itself: be the victims of the game, or become the masters of it themselves.

But will this war end with a crowned hero?

Or will it just create another mad villain?

*****

Note: This is the second book of Arcane. The happenings in this story is a prequel to the first installment which you can check in my Masterlist. Since the lore is highly dependent on the first book, I highly suggest you check it out first—otherwise, new readers might have a hard time understanding what is happening here. Expect lots of time jumps and flashbacks throughout the chapters.

Pairings: Dream 00’ Line + Mark x Reader

Trigger Warnings/Themes: romance, violence, torture, trauma, poly dynamics, suggestive themes, language, psychological, mystery, sci-fi. The concept of the tarot or Arcana cards will be loosely used throughout the series. Note that I am not a trained doctor so there may be some slips here and there about medical things. Again, this is a work of fiction and I am not implying any likeness between the characterization here of the boys to their real life counterparts. I also reserve the rights to all my work—I do not post anywhere else other than tumblr. Minors DNI. Please do not repost. I only publish my works in Tumblr.

© neonacity, 2022

Chapter Song: Before the Dawn | Evanescence

Previously > CH. 1 | CH.2 | CH.3 | CH.4 | CH.5 | CH.6

The soft, soulful notes of the grand piano teased the edges of your consciousness like the whisper of a lover. 

You have no idea what time it is when you managed to open your eyes, but the first thing that registered to you as you stirred from your sleep were the beams of moonlight that pierced the darkness of your room. It took you a couple of quiet seconds to prop yourself up from your bed, eyes drifting towards the direction of the music as you tried to gather your bearings. Beside you, the glowing handle of the clock on your desk struck 2AM.

The cold feel of the floor seeped into your skin when you pulled the blankets off of you and finally swung your legs over the side of the bed. The hymn floating in between the cracks of your door was beautiful, but there was something about the way the notes danced around each other that made the deepest parts of your chest throb dully. For some reason, it stirred great sadness in you, so you didn't give it a second thought to pull on your night robe and step out into the hallway to find its source. You know exactly where to go… And in a way, who you will find at the end of it.

His back was on you the moment you stepped into the room. It was dark, with only the light of the moon peeking from the high window providing illumination to the almost empty space. It was enough for you, however, to make out his strong back contrasted by the graceful features of his profile. His lean fingers continued dancing across the piano keys and you decided to stop just on the edge of the hallway to watch him from a distance.

"Aren't you cold?"

You weren't surprised at all when he addressed you, his low voice braiding through the notes of the hymn he was playing. He still hasn't looked at you, but you still gave a slight shake of your head in answer.

"That's a very beautiful piece you are playing."

"Did I wake you up?"

"You did. And I think you did it intentionally, too."

The way the corner of his lips slightly curved into a small smile made you tighten your fingers around yourself. You wanted to reach out to him, touch his face, and pull him over to you all at once. You might as well have screamed your thoughts out loud because Mark finally turned to look at you, his gaze gentle and open.

"Come here?"

Your first instinct was to keep your ground, but the side of you that wanted him close got the best of you in a heartbeat. Stepping away from the shadows, you went straight to him, his arms already opening for you before you even settled beside him. You melted into his embrace, fingers treading through his hair as he pressed his nose against the crook of your neck. You frowned and closed your eyes at the contact, the heavy feeling that you didn't even know you've been lugging around for the past couple of days leaving your chest like smoke. 

"Don't do that to me again. I thought you left me," you half whispered to keep your voice steady. You felt him sigh against your skin.

"I'm sorry… I needed some time alone."

"Do you hate me?"

Mark shook his head before letting you go just enough so he could see your face. You didn't even realize the tears brimming in your eyes until he reached out to catch them before they fell with his rough fingers.

"I could never hate you."

"But I…"

His smile fell a little as he gave a slight laugh.

"I admit the rejection hurt. I needed time to compose myself again. I wasn't really at my best when we talked so I had to distance myself a little."

"Mark, I'm sorry…"

The way his gaze probed your face now made a twisting tightness bloom in your chest again. It was the same way he had always looked at you, but now with a shade of honesty that he never had before. 

"You shouldn't. You made me realize something after all."

Your throat felt tight, but you managed to speak.

"What?"

"That you love me. And that the way you also love the others doesn’t change that."

Your heart squeezed in your chest.  You wanted to answer him, give him confirmation, but the way he looked at you told you that he didn’t need any of that assurance anymore. Instead, you leaned your cheek against the hand he raised to cup your face, eyes never leaving his. When he smiled at you again, you knew right then and there that the two of you will no longer be able to go back from all the pretending that provided you safety before. This was a man who had stopped himself from holding back because for the first time, he was finally standing in the same spot you’ve always been at. 

For once, none of you are afraid.

“Are you back for real this time? I asked the others and they said you were gone for days. Nobody knew where you went.”

A look of recall quickly crossed his features at your question. He almost seemed a bit guilty, but you knew there was more to it than he was letting on. You could feel dread at the back of your throat, but waited for him to take his time to answer.

“I didn’t really leave because of our conversation. There was something I was trying to figure out.”

“What?”

“Who the traitor is behind all of this.”

You paused. Mark's gaze never wavered from yours and you could see the clear frustration from the set of his brows.

“Did you find out anything?”

“Not much. I could have done it easier with the help of my father but I—” he stopped, a hard look flashing in his eyes momentarily. “I know he is supportive of the Headmaster’s decision for all of us to go into hiding. He wouldn’t help me even if I beg him to. I was able to get access to some reports of the investigation that our family have been doing though. Whoever is coming after us must come from an advanced technology corporation. They—”

“It’s Cypher Institute, isn’t it?”

Mark froze in his seat, his gaze one of surprise before it morphed into confusion.

“How did you know that?”

“Jaemin and I snooped around in my father’s office while he was gone and someone called him about it. It was a coincidence. Was it the same Institute that you were able to confirm from your father’s side?”

The way Mark’s expression changed in just a matter of seconds slowly made an uncomfortable feeling bloom in your gut. It was what he said next, however, that really threw you off.

“My father is not aware about Cypher Institute.”

You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“He had leads but none of the files I cross-checked had any mention of Cypher. And I looked at everything, I am sure of it. Whoever gave that information to your father is not from our family.”

The silence that wrapped the two of you was brief but heavy with meaning. There were so many questions that came to mind but it was Mark who managed to voice out the most pressing thing you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“Do you know any other family that your father could be working with?”

You shook your head slightly.

“He does work with everyone. The Kim’s are one when he asked Mijeong to watch over me while I was in university, and I’m sure he also had agreements with the families of the other Masters. I’ve always thought that he shares a lot of his plans to your father though… Especially anything related to this threat. It was the Lee's who saved him from the latest ambush after all. It wouldn’t make sense for him to ask another family to look into things over your father…”

It took a while for Mark to finally say something as he processed that. Your throat felt dry, and you could almost feel your hand locked with his slowly grow cold.

“It would make sense. If he doesn’t fully trust my father.”

His words hung thick in the air. You didn’t know what to say, especially with him saying what you couldn’t put into words. There was something about Junho Lee that has always bothered you, but he is also Mark’s family and for that, you still provided the man a level of respect even from a distance. Still, you knew that one of your father’s reasons for trusting him stands on shaky ground—you just didn’t expect for the distrust to run this deep.

“Do you think… He can do that?”

Mark’s jaw tightened at the question. You could see the fight going inside of him so clearly that you almost felt bad for asking.

“He's a very ambitious man. I was still very young when I lost my mom, but I remember enough to know that he was never really the same after what happened. Still, he is the only other family that I have and…”

“And it is absolutely alright if you want to believe in him,” you gently interjected by giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Mark pursed his lips and he shifted his gaze away from you, his expression torn and pained.

Just like you, Mark’s life was greatly affected by what happened in the past. Fate dealt him bad cards, and for that you can’t really blame him for wanting to stand up for things he wants to believe in. You would do the same if you were in his place; choose to stand by your father before anything and anyone else. 

It took a moment before he finally seemed to break from his thoughts. Gaze following him, he reached out for something in his pocket before finally offering his open palm to you. It was dark so it took you a moment to realize what you were looking at, but your lips were soon enough parting wordlessly as he moved to open the small blue velvet box he was holding carefully. 

Lying nestled in black satin, catching the light of the moon, was a deep blue diamond ring framed with smaller clear gems on its sides. It looked ornate but well-loved, like a star that had fallen in the middle of a dark night. Your eyes widened as you stared at it, Mark’s silence in contrast to the sudden loud beating of your heart.

“What…”

“It’s my mother’s wedding ring. My father gave it to me when he told me about his plan of us getting married.”

“Mark… I…”

Your voice sounded so full of guilt, but he gently cut you off by pressing the box against your palm.

“Relax, I am not proposing to you,” he said in a tone that made you pause. “I told you that I understand where you stand now. I am not going to force you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

You swallowed, but let him continue. 

“But we can’t deny how dangerous it is right now. There is a traitor in our family and it could be anyone, including my father. I won’t blame you if you can’t find it in you to trust us right now, but my family can give you protection, regardless of who is the person who betrayed us. Even if it was him, I think he will spare you if we make him believe that you’re engaged to me.”

“What makes you think he will make an exception for me, Mark? If it really was him, and he was willing to sell the rest of the Masters, then he can betray anyone.”

“No. Not you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

The way you paused gave Mark the chance to really look at you, his eyes roaming your face. You were at a loss for words, and he used that as his window to continue with a gentle voice that made your chest hurt.

“My father can be ambitious and cruel, I admit that, but he knows how to honor love when he sees it. He was hit hard when he lost my mom, but I don’t think he is going to punish you and me for what happened. He will also gain nothing if he hurts you over us being engaged and making our bloodline stronger.” 

“I hate to say this, but it’s the reality we’re living in right now,” he continued. “I can protect you if you choose to continue your life as a Master. It’s that or you move away and cut off all connections with us. Follow what your father has always wanted for you and live like a normal human.”

You slowly shook your head as the weight of his words fully sunk in. You’ve always known this… Everything Mark is saying right now have always been the choices given to you. Not once have you accepted them though, especially with your only other option being to exile yourself from the Family and never see any of them for the rest of your life again.

“So are you saying that we should… tell everyone that we will get married?”

Mark’s gaze dropped before he gave a slight nod.

“Yes. At least while we haven’t figured out who the real traitor is. If they see that we’re both onboard, I don’t think they’ll rush us to it. We can buy ourselves some time.”

You were quiet. Your eyes found the ring again, a testament to a different promise made years ago. After a moment, Mark reached over and closed the box before guiding your fingers to close around it.

“You don’t need to give me an answer right now, but I want you to keep it. Even if we won’t get married, you’re the only woman who I want to have it.”

Your thumb ran over the soft plush of the velvet cover. A few seconds passed before you felt him gently hold your chin to guide you to look at him again.

“I’ll do anything and everything just so we could get to the bottom of this. Whatever happens though, I want you to know…”

“That I will never ever betray you. My life is yours.”

Time seemed to have stopped, the same way your heart did. He looked at you with nothing but bare honesty laid out and you received it, unafraid this time. A cloud shifted outside, and the next moment, you two met in the middle, lips soft against each other. It was a simple kiss, but one that you knew was long overdue. When you pulled away, you whispered softly against him, only loud enough for him to hear.

“I know. I believe you.”

******* “Come in.”

You have barely raised your hand to knock when your father’s clear voice sounded from the inside of his office. The antic would have been amusing if this were any normal day, but instead you found yourself slightly hesitating before finally pushing the door open. He wasn’t looking at you when you stepped into his room, his gaze set instead on reviewing a stack of documents laid out across his table.

“Are you busy?”

It was a rhetorical question at this point, but still, the man’s lips twitched into a small smile as he finally looked at you from over the rim of his wired glasses. He looked unhurt, but the dark shadows under his eyes betrayed how his last couple of days have been.

“Even if I am, I will always have time for you, Princess.”

You didn’t want to immediately soften after that, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes shifted sideways as a reaction. Your father, of course, noticed, and chuckled as a response.

“So? Is there anything wrong?”

Your shoulders slumped a little before you answered. To be honest, you didn’t really plan for anything when you decided to see him today. All you know is that you’re glad to see him again after he had been in and out of the Academy for the past few days, especially since you haven’t really talked after your argument. The way his eyes sparkled behind his glasses now made you think that he already has an idea why you’re here, but the man kept his silence to give you the room to open it up yourself.

“I wanted to apologize… For some of the things I have said last time.”

“Apology accepted. I want to do the same, since I have realized why my decision warranted that kind of reaction.”

Immediately, it felt like a part of the heaviness in your chest lifted. You remained standing in your spot though, your gaze open as you searched his face.

“Did you change your mind? About me and Mark?”

A pause.

“No, my dear. My stand remains the same. And you?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer.

“No… I am still against it.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything else to counter you. Your father can be as headstrong as he is, but he also knows how to draw boundaries, at least temporarily. What you said next, however, is something he definitely did not expect.

“Mark and I talked though,” you added as you tried your best to work through the lump in your throat. Ever since that night with him, you’ve sat with your thoughts to consider every angle of the situation. You still don’t have a decision, but it would be unfair to lie to your father about what has happened since.

“We… still do not have an answer right now. But we are considering things.”

It was quite hard to gauge whether he was relieved about it or not, but he gave you a slight smile after his pause of silence.

“That’s enough for me. Thank you, darling. Now, do you want to sit? I know you came here to tell me more than just that. At least try to relax a little.”

You hesitated only for a little bit before finally giving in and settling on the chair across his desk. Now that you’re closer, you could better see the lines on his face, proof that the last few days haven’t been easy on him.

“I found out who was after us. I heard it from a call… While you were gone.”

“I know.”

You shot him a guilty look.

“Are you mad?”

The question made him laugh. “Honey, I would be even more surprised if you didn’t snoop around to find out things on your own. Let me guess, did Mark come with you?”

“No. Jaemin did.”

“Mm. As expected from Mr. Na. That young man's loyalty to you is fiercer than his strongest fear.”

“Why is Cypher after us, Papa?”

You didn't know if he was taken aback by your straightforwardness or not, but the moment you asked, a shadow of emotion you couldn’t quite understand flitted over his features. It was fast, but it was enough for you to understand that he knows something more than he is letting on. At first you thought he would avoid the question, but then the light in his eyes shifted again, almost as if he was looking inward to himself.

"It's human nature to crave power. Cypher, unfortunately, is one of those willing to meddle with it."

"Do you have any idea what it is that they want from us? Even with what they have, it is impossible for them to tap into the abilities of the Arcana. Manmade resources have no chance against us."

The pause from him was loaded. The man leaned on his desk now, shoulders slightly slouched as he took off his glasses and pressed the bridge of his nose. You almost wanted to reach out to him, but he seemed on the verge of breaking at the slightest touch. A flash of uninvited memory took over you, and it was then you realized that you've seen him like this before. Once, a long time ago when you were younger…

Back when your mother died.

"I wish I knew. It's hard to go against an enemy without understanding how they could possibly hurt you, but I am sure of one thing. They're dangerous. If there's something even more powerful than greed, it's hatred, and  Cypher… has both towards us. Whatever happens, we can't let them get to us. To any of you."

His words slowly sank like dull blades into your skin. There was something lurking behind his statements, a confession hidden in plain sight. You hated how you're piecing things together slowly, how you're realizing that there is possibly more to this than just going against an enemy.

"What do you mean about them hating us?" You asked softly now, your eyes set on him. Your father's gaze hardened as he continued staring at a spot in front of him. His silence was enough of an answer that you need.

"You… know these people. You know why they are doing this," you continued slowly. Your words seemed to have struck something in him, a look of pain overtaking him for a solid second before he finally reached for your hand.

“When the time comes, you will understand.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Why won’t you tell me everything?! I can help. You don’t have to carry this on your own.”

“Darling, you don’t understand. They are not like anything we have faced before. I’m doing this to protect all of you.”

You were quiet as your mind ran a million different things at the same time. You could see the cracks in him, the dawning realization shaking your core in a silent, terrifying way. There are a lot of moments in your life when you don't agree with your father, but you love the man, and he has always been the epitome of someone you can rely on ever since you were young. It doesn't matter how big the problem is, he will always come swooping down to save the day. As you look at him now across from you, shadows and light bouncing off his tired face, you felt your heart break as you realized one thing. He is afraid just as you are. Unlike you though, there was an air of resignation in him, as if he already knew the fate waiting for him.

“Then why… does it feel like you are saying goodbye.”

The way that he looked at you made something in you break. You shook your head slowly, and he cupped your face with his hand to keep yourself from trembling.

“You will understand it soon. For now, all I wish is for you to trust me. I know it might be too much to ask, but I hope you can give me this.”

You were terrified. In that moment, you felt like a little girl again, afraid to lose the only family that you have.

“Only if you promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“You will not die.”

He paused for a bit before finally giving you a small smile.

“You have my word.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but you took it, at least for now. Your father may not be perfect, but as much as he is flawed, he had always tried his best to never break his promises to you. You nodded now, your eyes falling to the piles of papers in his desk.

“What are we going to do now, Papa?”

His hand on your face lowered and your gaze landed on his ring as it caught light from the lamp on his desk. It was an ornate piece made with what looked like bronze, the simple band carved with intricate-looping patterns that are reminiscent of snowflakes. It was the only piece of jewelry that he had worn for as long as you could remember, on top of his wedding band that he never took off despite the death of your mother. For some reason, the ring looked different now as it shone against his skin. It looked regal in your father’s hand, yet at the same time... lonely.

When he spoke again, his voice was melancholy.

“When the time comes, you will know exactly what you have to do.”

******* “You know the view of the sunset looks best on the other side of the rooftop, right?”

Your head only slightly turned towards the sound of the voice that broke through your thoughts. Shrugging a little to yourself, you turned your gaze once more to the burning sky, eyes not really seeing the deepening colors there. You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting in the cold, but the freezing chill clinging to your skin gave you an idea of the hours you’ve lost track of. 

“I know. I didn’t really come here for the view though.”

Soft footfalls started moving towards you in answer. The next thing you felt was the warmth of a cardigan going over your shoulders as your visitor dropped to the spot next to you.

“That makes one of us. I do like the view here. Can I join?”

You raised a brow but grabbed the edges of the jacket to wrap the material tighter around you. “You’re already here. Will you leave if I ask you to?”

“Nope~”

The way you could almost hear his smirk in his voice couldn’t stop you from smiling a little. You gave a light-hearted sigh before finally turning to look at him.

“Why are you here, Haechan? Shouldn’t you be resting in your dorm? You just finished training with the others, right?”

“When I can finally have some alone time with you? You do realize how hard it is for some of us to get your time, right? Either you’re sulking on your own or you’re being hogged by my cousins—”

He wasn’t able to finish what he wanted to say as you raised your hand and knocked your fist on top of his head. Haechan jokingly flinched and massaged the spot you just hit, a smirk on his face.

“Did you just come here to harass me?”

“Did I lie? All I’m saying noona is that I’m a Lee too. What does Mark and Jeno have that I don’t have?”

You looked at him dead-panned before giving an answer.

“Height.”

The way his face dropped made your lips twitch. It was taking you everything not to dissolve into laughter with how hard he scowled at you.

“Okay, Princess, listen here. Mark-hyung is literally a centimeter taller than me. Don’t be mean.”

That was the last that you could take. Unable to help it, you finally gave in, your laughter bursting as you curled in on yourself to keep yourself from snorting. You could almost feel his frown deepening without even looking at him, the awareness of it only making you wheeze harder.

"I do know what I can do that those two dorks can't though," you heard him say quietly after he let you have your moment. When you finally gathered yourself again—cheeks pink from the cold and the laughing fit—he was looking at you softly. The sunset was kissing his skin, making him look as if he was glowing. The corners of his lips lifted as he angled his face a little to the side to watch you.

"I'm the only one who can make you laugh like that."

The way your heart jumped made you immediately forget what you thought was funny just seconds ago. Your relationship with Haechan has always been different… Mark is loyal, Jeno is secretive, Renjun is subtle, and Jaemin is passionate. Haechan has always been straightforward with what he wants, but unlike the others, his intensity can sometimes be impulsive, like an open flame ready to spark into a larger fire at any moment. It was in his nature—The Magician, as the master of chaos, is the one force in the Arcana that constantly straddles logic and madness, next to The Fool itself. He is designed to want you in a different intensity from how others feel ever since the Arcana chose him as its Master. 

It's because of this that you have always tried to hold back more when it comes to him. And so when he pushes, you pull back, not because you feel any less for him, but because the idea of you two meeting in the middle has always terrified you.

That, and you know that whatever feelings Haechan has for you at the moment might not be his own, but his Arcana craving for yours.

"You make me laugh just as hard as you can make me mad," you admitted finally, allowing your walls to break down just a little in front of him. Something flickered in his eyes though his smile remained.  

"You always run away from me, noona. Why?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"What I know is that you like me just as much as you like the others."

"I do. But do you feel the same about me? Or is it your Arcana telling you that you want me?"

Your question made him stop. You watched as the smile slowly bled from his face, his well-kept mask slipping for a moment. Haechan is a good master of his own emotions, but this time you knew you hit a chord. 

"I can do anything for you. Destroy worlds… and build new ones if you want me to,” he said, his voice serious. 

"I know. But that is not answering my question."

"Then what—"

"Will you feel the same if I am not the IL Matto, Haechan? Will you still like me if I’m just a regular human?"

The way his eyes hardened a little at the very thought of you living a life as a normal mortal admittedly made your heart break a little. You've always known this, of course… but hearing his answer now in his silence did not make it easier. When it seemed like he didn't know what to say next, you took it upon yourself to take his hand gently. He immediately wove his fingers with yours, his hold tight that it felt like he was giving you his reply through it alone. This time, it was you who smiled at him to try and give him comfort.

“I know how much you like me, but I can’t accept those feelings if you’re not even sure yourself that they’re your own. It’s unfair for me to give you an answer and take your free will from you, Haechan... I can’t do that, at least while you still can’t answer that question.” 

He looked so lost and in pain that for a moment, you could see the chubby-cheeked boy who had always ran after you when you were younger. It made you want to pull him in for comfort, but you settled on giving his hand a squeeze instead. 

"Hey. Don’t feel bad about it, okay? It’s fine. I like having you around, just like this. If you want to do anything for me though, then just promise me one thing."

He still seemed torn, but he managed to give an answer anyway.

"What is it?"

"Never stop making me laugh. You're right. You’re the only one who can do it."

******* Kun kept his eyes steady on the flickering flame of the candlelight in front of him. The room was quiet, but there was a different tinge of melancholy that was lingering in the air as the Headmaster sifted quietly through the papers in front of him. The ticking sound of the grandfather's clock in the room was deafening to him, like a death call waiting for its final drop. It was a reprieve when the door finally creaked open, revealing Taeyong on the other side of it. Kun waited for him to join his side, giving the man the liberty to break the suffocating silence.

"We just finished the final round of trainings, Sir. We’re gathering all the data before giving them to you."

"How are the kids?"

"They have improved a lot. They’re not at their full potential yet, but they can definitely control their abilities better now. They will be able to hold a fight… should the need arise."

"They don't have to. They only need to defend themselves,” the man said evenly. “Have you heard word from Doyoung?"

Taeyong paused before giving an answer. 

"Yes. He has confirmed that it is most likely Junho Lee who is working with Cypher."

The man's hand froze ever so slightly as he moved to pick up a paper from his desk. His face was calm, but there was something about the set of his lips that made Kun and Taeyong surreptitiously exchange glances.

"I appreciate you working with the Kim's, Taeyong. He's probably watching me very closely, so I needed you to do the job."

"Do you want us to get rid of him?" Kun's voice was quiet but steady when he asked the burning question. The Headmaster shook his head, his eyes hooded by the shadows from the flickering candle.

"No. Not yet."

Kun's jaw clenched ever so slightly at the answer. His morals tell him to take the man's word with no question—follow him with blind loyalty like he has always done—but he couldn't bring himself to do it now, not when everything seems to be crumbling around him. From the way that Taeyong was holding himself beside him, shoulders stiff and face set, he knows that the other Legacy shares the same stand.

"With all due respect, Sir. I would like to understand why," he finally decided to ask after gathering enough courage to speak again. The man peered at him from behind his glasses, curious, but not seemingly surprised by his question. He didn't know if it was just a trick of the light, but he thought he saw the shadow of a smile on the other's lips before he finally moved to cross his hands together.

"You and Taeyong always had the right to ask. The pair of you just do not give yourselves the full credit you are due."

For a second, Kun felt oddly like a child being gently reprimanded by a parent. Gathering himself again, he decided to press more to get answers.

"We do not understand why you're protecting Junho. He betrayed you. He betrayed all of us."

"I am not protecting him. I am protecting the Family… From him."

The look of silent confusion from him and Taeyong was not lost on the Headmaster. The man, on the other hand, seemed set and collected as always.

"Cypher is already a formidable enemy on their own. They will wage war on us soon, there is no doubt about it. Going after Junho now will only split the Family more—and we are currently at a disadvantage of not knowing who else within our network has decided to side with him. If he finds out that we know, we'll just be pushing ourselves in a corner. The Lee's have resources, and having those used against us is the last thing we need."

"So we will just let him do whatever, then?" Taeyong asked this time.

"No. When the time comes… And you will know when—you will have to take him down. Even his own son should he decide to betray my daughter."

The way the man said that so evenly without batting an eye made Kun and Taeyong's blood run cold. The Headmaster is a kind, rational man that oftentimes, people forget how cunning and ruthless he can be in his own ways.

"For now, I want to keep him alive. After all… He might still become useful in the future."

Both men stared at him, though none decided to speak up this time. Wordlessly, he picked up a thick brown envelope from his table and offered it to the two. Kun and Taeyong looked at each other before the former took it silently from his hands.

"When that time comes, my daughter will be the first person to know what best to do with him," the Headmaster continued as he leaned back on his chair. "Just the same as she will know what to do next once things start to unfold. When the moment calls for it, give her that envelope. It will help her."

Kun's fingers tightened on the edges of the bundle he was holding. There was a heavy feeling that had started to weigh on his stomach, similar to the one he had when the man talked to him first after his quick absence.

"Are you leaving, Sir?"

A shadow of something quickly glossed over the man's expression. It was so brief, but it was enough to give Taeyong and Kun the answer they hoped they wouldn't have to hear ever.

"There are things that only I can do in this fight. So yes… I would have to leave my daughter. For a while," he said, his eyes moving from one young man to the next. Maybe it was the darkness and the shadows dancing in the room, but in that moment, the Headmaster saw in the pair two other young men who stood shoulder to shoulder in this room once, many decades ago, promising their allegiance to the Arcana. The memory made his chest constrict with a mix of emotions—pain… longing… and sadness for what was and what will never be again.

He let the memories linger for a few more seconds before finally giving the two a small smile.

"I know I have already asked for too much from the both of you, but if I can have one last request… I hope you two can put her and the Family's best interests at heart while I am away."

"Consider it my last request as IL Giudizio."

******* Your footsteps echoed softly in the hallways as you made your way back to your room. Tucked loosely by your side are a couple of hardbounds, titles you decided to sneak out of the library in this unholy hour because you were already out of reading material. It's been weeks since most of the student body have been sent back to their homes, leaving Rosewood silent and vacant. Since then, you’ve tried to take comfort in the stillness surrounding you by keeping mostly to yourself and out of everyone's way.

You have already turned the last corner to your room when your phone suddenly vibrated in your jeans pocket. By the time you managed to pull it out and check your messages, you were already at your door, one hand wrapping around the knob while you tried to open the message notification. You have barely caught Mark's name on your screen when a gasp was suddenly torn from you as someone grabbed you by the arm, the motion causing the books you were holding to tumble to the floor. Your eyes grew wide as your back made contact against the wood, your elbow grazing the cold knob of your door as you were pushed against it. Your first thought was that you were being attacked, but a different kind of shock gripped you when you realized what exactly was happening.

You didn't really need to see him to know whose lips were pressed against you the next second. Even in your confusion, your hands automatically gripped the front of his shirt as he held you close to him. He was holding you so tightly that it took you a moment to guide his face back so you could see him better. Dark eyes met yours, hooded by his windswept, messy hair as you searched his face. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips and his fingers only dug deeper on your hip bones as if he was afraid that you will push him away. 

"Jeno, what—"

"I need you. Now."

Four words. That was all it took for you to pause and for your heart to stop in your chest. You held his gaze for a second longer before grabbing his hand the same time he reached out to turn the knob behind you. Wordlessy, you pulled him in, leaving nothing but the sound of your door closing in the empty hallway.

*******

A/N: This took a while because I simply could not put my thoughts into words properly. Enjoy!

Taglist: 

@effulgentfireflies, @kasperneo, @lostlovesoul11, @byunniebaekhyunnie, @smolpeyy, , @dearj43, @bettyschwallocksyee, @babyksworld,   @yongboksfreckles,  @user103843, @lovehowdream, @glitching-wren, @jhornytrash, @coconuttiez8d, @negincho​, @stopeatread​, @ellatizw​, @huangberryyy, @wonyofanclub​,

Untaggable for some reason: @renjunsflower, @coconuttiez8d

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (39/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5183

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: A plan is made to secure the support of the kingdoms. Unfortunately for Aemond, that plan involves sending Arianwyn on a diplomatic mission. Alone.

Warnings: Brief descriptions of sex. 18+ MINORS DNI

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

The Small Council

Arianwyn was snoring slightly, and Aemond thought there had never been a sweeter sound.

The sun was already mostly risen, but still, she did not stir. Her head was thoroughly planted in her pillow, and every blanket they had was piled atop her.

Aemond had been awake for some time, his body finally reacclimating to his usual routine after several days of disruption. Some of it his own fault, some of it hers. It had, of course, helped that he slept so soundly.

How could he not have, after all, they did when they returned to their rooms?

He had made quite the feast of Arianwyn.

Several times over, until she writhed on the sheets, unable to form words through her pleasure. Aemond had been content to finish himself off, not wanting to push her beyond her limits. But as soon as she cracked opened her eyes and saw his own hand reaching for his cock, she forbade him.

She had tried to raise herself on top of him, to ride him as she had before, but her arms were too weak after so many releases. Instead, she simply spread her legs and commanded him to “use his wife as the gods intended.”

The memory heated Aemond’s blood, but he stopped his mind from pondering too much about resuming where they had left off. Aegon would never shut up if he saw Arianwyn limping through the halls of the Holdfast.

Instead, he was content to slip his hand beneath the blankets to trace Runes onto her back. Mostly those with healing properties, for he knew she would likely be sore this morning, and her head must ache from all the wine she had drunk with Aegon. But as always, he punctuated every few Runes with their favorite.

Two lines, crossing in parallel. Each end split, reaching for the others, but never quite touching.

Arianwyn moaned.

Loudly.

It was a far different sound than she had made the night before. Not a moan of pleasure, but that of a person who awoken to find their body had become their enemy. Perhaps it was a good thing she was hungover. Now she would blame Aegon for her woes, and not her husband.

Aemond smiled as he trailed his fingers up her back to cup her head and turn her to him. Her silver eyes were bleary and only just opened, leaving her squinting in the dim light. With clumsy motions, she traced his face with the tips of her fingers.

“You…” she murmured accusatorily, pressing on the tip of his nose as she began to pout. “You would not dance with me…”

“Aria,” he scolded, pulling her closer and kissing her gently, not to start anything, simply to wake her up. “But what I did do was better than any foolish court dance, surely?”

He felt her smile against him and her cheeks flush with warmth. Arianwyn feeling warm was a new sensation, one he could never get enough of. He thought that, perhaps, it was an even better feeling than the usual chill of her skin, but then she brought one of her hands out from beneath her pile of blankets and pressed against her chest, and he knew. The cold would always be more thrilling.

“Mmm, perhaps,” she mused, lazily kissing the marks she had left across his neck. “But we shall never really know the answer unless you actually dance with me!”

As she began to laugh, Aemond did too. A rich, deep sound echoing right into her ear, causing her to flinch slightly.

“For your sake, I will stop there, my love,” Aemond sighed as he rose from the bed and approached the dressing room door, ready to summon Kirin and Elsie to start the morning. “I won’t train this morning, but we should dress. We are bound to be summoned today for one reason or another. But of course, that is only if your headache will allow it.”

“I do not have a headache,” she insisted, finally sitting up in the bed with extraordinarily slow movements.

Aemond only quirked up the corner of his mouth and reached to open the window, sending a shaft of bright morning light directly into her sweet face.

She shrieked, yanking the blankets up over her head while she dove face-first into the mattress. He chuckled as he watched the lump that was his wife roll around pitifully for a moment before she finally spoke again.

“I may have a headache.”

He let her wallow for only a moment longer before sitting next to her on the bed and rubbing what he thought was her back through the blankets. “If I have Kirin bring us our morning meal in bed, do you think you can bring yourself out of your fog? Today will no doubt require much from the both of us, and surely you want to present your best self to your new flock?”

“My new what?” came her muffled reply.

“Your new flock of sheep, some thirty strong,” he explained. He had told her about it last night on their way back to their chambers. Though she was, admittedly, quite distracted at the time. “I had Ser Conin bring that shepherd’s herd to the Keep so we could take them on, or don’t you remember?”

The lump made its way across the bed to lean into his side. “No. That was a dream I had, brought on by all the wine your brother tempted me into drinking.”

“Aegon didn’t have to tempt you into anything, my dear,” he laughed as he embraced her as best he could through all the blankets and whatever contorted position she had taken beneath them. “And I assure you, it was not a dream. I gave the order myself. You are now the Lady of Runestone, a Princess of the Realm, and a shepherdess.”

For a moment, he was afraid she would be displeased. That she would think him foolish for doing it. That she would not, as he had, seen it as an opportunity to ease her way into being the Lady of Runestone. That she would be angry at him for making such a decision when she was drunk and dancing.

But then she laughed. Deeper and more heartily than he had heard in years. The blankets trembled from the force of it, and as she dug her way back out to face him.

That beautiful smile. It was so brilliant he almost didn’t notice the dark smudges beneath her eyes, the singular tangle that made up her hair, or even the yellowing bruises on her throat.

“You mean to tell me,” she choked out through her laughter, “that there are thirty sheep in the stables of the Red Keep?”

“Thirty-two, to be precise.”

With a howl, Arianwyn fell back on the bed, entirely overwhelmed with her glee.

Aemond smiled even as he rolled his eyes, forcing himself to look away so as not to be drawn back into the bed with her. “This is the most undignified I have ever seen you be, Aria.”

She only laughed harder as she raised herself back onto her knees and raised an accusatory finger at him. “You liar! What is my laughing compared to the way you had me keening last night? Why I was no better than the cheapest of whores!”

Now it was his turn to laugh as he stalked back to the bed, pressing her back to the mattress until he hovered over her again. “You are so much better than even the most expensive of whores. Believe me,” he growled, grasping her chin as he kissed her deeply, reverently.

Perhaps dressing could wait.

Then again, perhaps not.

Arianwyn started to kiss him back but pulled away when she began to laugh again. “If the sheep are in the stables, where are the horses?”

Aemond dropped his head against her neck and groaned. His frustration was only matched by his own repressed amusement. “I believe they are just… milling about the courtyard.”

She was practically vibrating with laughter against him. No, there was no possibility of them going any further this morning. At least her headache seemed to have disappeared.

-

It had taken Elsie quite some time to untangle Arianwyn’s hair. But she made good use of the time she spent in front of the mirror. With her new maid’s help, she had come up with nearly three dozen possible names for the sheep by the time she emerged back into the solar to break her fast.

Aemond listened with rapt attention as she told him each name. He only objected to a few – those he found either too silly or too serious for a sheep. Apparently, in his mind, there was a firm distinction between names for animals and names for people. And even then, the animals must be granted at least some dignity.

“Baa-lerion, the Wooly Dread” was therefore soundly rejected. Aemond left no room for argument on that.

Nevertheless, Arianwyn was in the middle of arguing in favor of the name when they were interrupted by a knock on their door.

“Come!” Aemond shouted, glad for something to distract from silly sheep names.

Even as Ser Arryk Cargyll stepped in and bowed, Arianwyn whispered over the rim of her teacup, “If one of the sheep is black, I will be left with no other option.”

The Prince shot his wife a quick glare to save that particular discussion for later when he turned to face the knight. “What is it, Ser Arryk?”

“Your presence has been requested at the meeting of the Small Council.”

Aemond grimaced, looking at Arianwyn apologetically now. “Keep your arguments in mind, Aria. We can discuss them when I return.”

“Pardon me, my Prince,” Arryk interrupted, his head bowed. “But the King has requested the Princess attend as well.”

Arianwyn nearly spat out her tea. “He has?”

“He has, your Highness.”

She stared up at Aemond with wide eyes, a question in her gaze.

“If the King has requested your presence, you must obey,” he smiled and sighed as he helped her stand, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But, of course, if you don’t want to, I will make excuses for you.”

She pushed against his shoulder once before pulling back. It was obvious she was angry, but Aemond struggled to take her seriously when her nose was scrunched so adorably.

“Why should I not attend?” she asked with disdain. “I am a Princess of the Realm and Lady of a great house!”

Aemond smiled as he watched her inner fire reignite, grateful to see it again. He meant what he had said when he was unwell. It was one of the few things he remembered saying – he would gladly burn in that beautiful fire.

Unfortunately, Arianwyn interpreted his grin quite differently than he had intended.

“Well, not a ‘Great House,’ but a great house!” she lowered and raised her voice to emphasize the difference, causing Aemond to smile even wider. “The Royces were Kings before there were any Arryns in the Vale, or indeed any Andals at all. It was my ancestor who nearly drove them back across the sea…”

“I think you’re forgetting that ‘nearly’ is the most important word there, my love,” he interrupted, running his hand through her hair.

“Aemond!” she whined, though she leaned into his touch. “You aren’t listening to me!”

He sighed and forced himself to drop his smile. “Of course I am, my love. You are trying to convince me that you have every right to be a part of the decisions made by the family, the House, and the Crown. Inexplicably, you think the best way to do so is through a history lesson.”

Her angry nose unscrunched while her lips puckered in an equally adorable pout.

“None of it is necessary, I assure you,” he said, running a finger along her jaw to try and get her to stop pouting. Even if it was adorable, he preferred her smiling. “If you want to sit amongst those tiresome men and listen to them endlessly argue, I will not stop you. I will pity you and question your sanity. But I will not stop you.”

That did get her to smile, just slightly.

-

“No,” Aemond’s voice was firm, flat, and cold as ice.

The members of the Small Council looked at the Prince with surprise and no small measure of fear. Men did not usually refuse their instruction, nor that of the King.

Alicent, seated by her father’s side, was mortified. Aegon, eyes still distant from the wine from the feast, looked more impressed and amused, but still shocked. Arianwyn, standing by his side at the end of the Small Council table, did not quite know how to react.

Even Otto Hightower was taken aback. He gave a weak laugh to try and defuse the tension before looking across the table at his peers. “I believe what the Prince means is…”

“I have said precisely what I mean,” Aemond cut in. Neither his voice nor his face had softened. On the contrary, the anger in his eye seemed to have sharpened as he looked toward his grandsire. “I refuse.”

Arianwyn took his hand. His only reaction was to let out a sharp exhale. “Aemond, it will be alright. I can…”

“No!” he repeated, only looking at her in his periphery. His eye and scar were blazing as he turned to his brother. “I will not fail. You will have Storm’s End, and Daeron will have the girl. Once I have done that, I will go north and secure the Vale, and any other place you can think to send me. Arianwyn stays here.”

By the time he finished his ultimatum, he was nearly shouting. The newfound aggression and protectiveness at once thrilled Arianwyn and frustrated her. To know he would defend her so fiercely warmed her heart, but she did not want to trade one tower for another.

Still, she found it hard to argue against her husband. She had not hesitated to contradict him when it came to the silly names she wanted to give their new sheep or whether he would dance with her. But this…

Every time she started to open her mouth, she heard him again, begging her through desperate tears not to leave him.

“Prince Aemond, while I admire your devotion to your wife’s safety,” Otto finally said conciliatorily, “I insist that it must be her. Princess Rhaenyra’s mother was an Arryn. She is bound to press that connection. If we are to win the Vale, we must therefore press ours. Arianwyn is a daughter of the oldest blood of the Vale, the Lady of Runestone, and the godsdaughter of Lady Jeyne Arryn. She is our only chance.”

Aemond’s nostrils flared as he snarled. But before he could reply, Arianwyn stepped in front of him. “I cannot deny your logic, my Lord Hand,” she said, her gentle tone at odds with the rumbling growls coming from her husband. “However, I am not confident I can accomplish what you ask. I have never met Lady Jeyne nor made a formal petition. I have not even been to the Vale since Queen Alicent brought me here as a babe.”

Otto rolled his eyes as Aegon scoffed. “Humility does not suit you, Aria. Besides, you tamed my beast of a brother, there,” the King smirked playfully at Aemond as he teased. “I’m sure your Lady godsmother will be no more a challenge.”

Arianwyn had to grip Aemond’s hand so tight her own fingers hurt to keep him beside her rather than diving across the table to throttle his brother. Thankfully, no one else but her noticed the subtle signs that he was at the end of a very short rope.

“The King is right, in his way,” Alicent said with a sweet smile. “You are very well-spoken, Aria. We all saw it when you spoke before the court only days ago…” Her voice faded when she realized her praise brought more pain than reassurance.

The memory of that morning would haunt both Aemond and Arianwyn forever, but they took heart in the fact that after all of it, they remained together. Still, they had come so close to being torn apart – again – and it made them all the more reluctant to leave each other now, even if only for a few days.

“Can we not go together?” Arianwyn asked.

“I am afraid not,” Otto sighed. To his credit, he looked genuinely regretful. “It must be you, and you, alone.”

An unpleasant shiver ran up Arianwyn’s spine, forcing her to step back toward her husband to steady herself in his warmth. “I don’t understand why,” she whispered.

The Hand nodded to Lord Larys Strong, who sat at the end of the table now that Tyland Lannister had taken the position of Master of Coin.

Larys, too, gave an apologetic smile. But his did not soothe Arianwyn as that of the Dowager Queen, Orwyle, or even the Hand himself did. Under his gaze, she felt like something curious to be studied.

“It seems that the accusations of your father, Prince Daemon, have spread.” He twiddled his hands on the top of his cane, assessing Aemond’s ever-growing anger before continuing. “Despite the Hand’s judgment and your eloquent testimony, there are those who nevertheless believe that your marriage was… not entirely by your own choice.”

Aemond had pulled her closer to his chest and wrapped his free hand around her waist. He looked, Arianwyn realized, like the very image of possessiveness. Suddenly, it occurred to her how it must have looked to the court for her not to have appeared without him since they were wed.

She had only been apart from him only four times since they left the Throne Room that morning.

When she went to purchase her trousseau with Alicent and Helaena, they had remained within the Holdfast, out of sight of the court.

When they flew together on dragonback, few had known they took separate carriages.

When she went to read to her nieces and nephews, and afterwards spoke to the King, she had again been in the Holdfast – unseen yet again.

When Aemond ventured into the city in search of his brother, Arianwyn remained behind with the Queen.

When he stalked across the dance at the feast the night before, had they seen a man desperate to worship his wife? Or one angered by her dancing with his brother?

By all appearances, she had traded one tower for another.

She wanted nothing more than for the court – the whole world – to see Aemond as she did. If only he had agreed to dance with her. If they had only seen how much she adored being held in his arms, or how she looked at him only in love.

Perhaps then, she would feel as though she had a choice now.

“I will go,” she declared, surprising herself with how confident she sounded even as she did not feel it. “I cannot promise I will succeed, but I will try.”

As each person in the room looked at her in bewilderment, Arianwyn found herself thankful that she could not see Aemond’s face as he tightened his grip on her waist and leaned in, his ragged breath hot in her ear.

“Please, Aria,” he begged near silently, “I can’t protect you if you leave me.”

Gods, she did not want to. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. But she could not let the world believe Daemon’s lies. If she went on this mission on her own, it would surely put any rumors that she was a captive bride to rest.

For whatever they may think of Aemond, no one could deny he was intelligent. And what intelligent captor would let his prisoner return – on her dragon, no less – to her homeland, with no guarantee of her return?

This was more than a dance at a feast or a walk in the gardens. This, not even Daemon could deny.

She resented cruel irony. The work of the Stranger, no doubt. To protect Aemond, and to fulfill her promise to the dead King, she had to leave him.

It was only for three days, not six years, she reminded herself.

It took all her strength to keep her eyes dry and her lip from trembling as she continued to look at the members of the Small Council, desperate for one of them to speak. She knew if she looked at Aemond or responded to him in any way, he would beg her again, and she would not be able to resist him this time.

Lord Jasper Wylde was the first to come to her rescue. “That is very brave of you, Princess,” he said with a smile. “You are to be commended.”

More praise followed. None of it from Aemond.

“When do we depart?” she asked. If she was truly to do this, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, to not give Aemond a chance to change her mind.

“We must still discuss what terms we are to offer Lord Borros and Lady Jeyne,” Otto explained. “I believe we shall be ready for you to leave in the morning.”

“Of course, you are welcome to remain here and offer your insights on what you think may tempt your godsmother,” Aegon added when he caught sight of the nervousness his Arianwyn’s eyes.

She was about to thank him and take the seat next to Alicent, but Aemond pulled her back.

“No,” he said, biting out the words with all the grace he could muster. “Thank you for the offer. But I should like to help Arianwyn prepare for her journey.”

Slowly, she turned to face her husband. When she met his softened gaze, she knew he would not try to change her mind. He only wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before they left, even if they were reunited in only a few days.

“Are you sure?” Aegon asked more of Arianwyn than his brother.

Arianwyn took a deep, sighing breath. “I am. I have never been on a flight so long. His help is appreciated as much as it is needed.”

“Then you have my leave to… well, leave,” Aegon drawled. “Try not to distract each other too much. I will not tolerate a late departure.”

Aemond held back another growl as he bowed his head and led his wife from the room.

-

Neither said anything as they walked. They did not immediately return to their rooms. Instead, Aemond led them to some other destination. To where Arianwyn was not sure.

She was far too distracted by the members of the court that watched them so closely. Every time one of them sneered or whispered some snide comment, she glared at them until they blanched, holding Aemond’s arm tighter or resting her head on his shoulder. She knew he noticed what she was doing and was not entirely pleased. But he did not stop her.

That is, until they arrived at the stairs to the training yard, where they had reunited not long ago.

“Why have we come here?” she asked as she dropped his arm. “I thought you would want to go to the Dragonpit to help me prepare.”

Aemond shook his head, holding out a hand to lead her down the stairs. “Emrys will be fine. He is young and strong, and far too enthusiastic for his own good.”

Arianwyn hesitated in following him. She had never been in the training yard itself before, only ever the ramparts. But his eye was pleading, and she had already refused him enough that day.

Those knights and guards still in the yard stared as the Prince guided the new Princess to the weapon racks. As he had when she first saw him again, he looked over the weapons with great concentration. His eye lingered briefly on a shortsword before he selected a thin dagger and held it out to his wife.

“I will not be able to protect you in the Vale,” he said, setting the dagger in her hand and adjusting her grip on its hilt. “It would bring me great comfort to know that while you are away, you have some way of defending yourself. I would prefer…” he trailed off as he laughed slightly, licking his lips before continuing. “I would prefer you not have to rely on embroidery shears.”

An amused smile spread over Arianwyn’s face as she accepted the small blade. “I thought I did quite well with the shears, actually.”

Aemond laughed again, readjusting her grip one more. “You made me very proud, my love. But for my sake, please let me show you how to use a real weapon.”

“Be careful,” she warned with a sideways smirk. “I may be quite the warrior.”

She twirled the dagger as she teased. But she nearly immediately lost her grip, sending it flying into the dirt.

Looking from the fallen blade to his blushing wife, Aemond began to laugh in earnest. “I don’t think there is any danger of that.”

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