#I watched inside again and was left in shambles

[corvinidum]

Apathy’s a Tragedy and Boredom is a Crime

[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[v7lgar]

@jegulus-microfic | may 26 - fine | tw: NSFW, spit swallowing, dirty talk, D/s undertones | words: 827 | @ecstarry @star4daisy

Regulus didn't know James had it in him. He had a gut feeling, yes, but the outcome was beyond his dreams.

James was on top of him, sucking his neck hard and fucking him deep. Every time he thrust, the sounds of their flesh made Regulus feel weak in the knees. It made him dizzy, he felt so heavy and needy. It was fine, it was James and he always knew how to take care of him.

His hands were at James’ back, nails digging in and his eyes were closed. All he could feel was him, James, filling his pussy and feeding him nicely.

“Fuck, James—” He moaned loudly, it was hard to open his eyes but he needed to look at him, so he did.

James bit the tender skin of his neck and slowly pulled away, mouth hanging open and his lips were red. Regulus touched his bottom lip and at that moment James shoved his cock deep into his cunt again and Regulus cried out.

“Shit— you are so good at this,” he told him as he tried to catch his breath, “I don't like that you are good at this.”

James licked his cheek slowly, it made him feel worse. And then he got closer to his ear, nibbling his earlobe.

“You like it when I fuck you this good though,” he spoke gradually and kissed the under of his ear, “I can feel your wetness, your pussy is hungry for my cock. It stretches nicely around me, swallowing every inch of my cock. Are you sure you don't like it?”

Regulus had to close his eyes shut, the lewd words did numbers on him and as if that wasn't enough, James’ raspy, low voice was driving him crazy. And he was right, every word coming out of his mouth was absolute truth.

“I fucking hate you,” Regulus said, he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, “I can't stand you.”

James only smirked, he was so handsome without his glasses too. Regulus was made of love at that exact moment, every limb of his was loving James Potter, wanting him without an end.

“I guess your cunt is not on the same page with you,” He said, he pulled out until then tip of his cock was the only thing staying inside of Regulus, and while he was being watched by him, he spat onto his pussy and shoved his cock into forcefully in one push.

Regulus’ breath left his lungs abruptly, he couldn't move, he couldn't think.

But James continued, “Look at him, pretty little thing, wrapping itself around my cock so good. So tight, yet he can take it all,” His eyes met with Regulus, “Soaking wet for me, begging for me to fuck you harder. You need to be fucked the way you deserve it, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Regulus didn't know when he started crying, he was feeling so full and everything was so perfect that pleasure clouded his every sense.

James didn't wait for an answer, Regulus quietly crying was all he needed. He wrapped his hand around Regulus’ throat and fucked him faster while choking him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— James, Jamie— Potter—”

James fucked him even harder, he was in shambles.

“Fuck me, fuck, fuck me— faster, yes, yes—”

Regulus didn't stop talking and neither did James. The more Regulus moaned and rambled, the dirtier James’ words became. He felt James’s fingers on his clit and everything in him screamed. He started rubbing it faster than the rhythm he was fucking him to.

“Fuck, your little cunt is feels so fucking good— Can’t get enough of this.”

He spat on his pussy again and spread the wetness by using his fingers. At the same time, Regulus was hanging on to his life as he scratched James’ back and he could feel the blood getting under his fingernails.

James moved his hand from his throat to his chin and opened Regulus’ mouth. He spit inside of his mouth and Regulus moaned as he swallowed. He could feel his wet folds getting more slicker with every thrust of James’ hips.

“James,” he groaned as James put his thumb into his mouth and he started sucking it while imagining it was James’ cock. He couldn't stop moaning, everything felt amazing. He was so close, painfully close and James’ fingers on his clit were making everything blurry.

He felt like an angel who was about to fall from heaven into the pits of hell.

“I’m close— I'm so close, James— oh fuck, yes, yes, yes—”

James rubbed it faster, every time he bottomed out his pussy became even more wet. He was there, and it was too much. Every feeling was heightened achingly and all he needed was him.

He bit James’ finger and pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck. It broke something in him and—

He started to fall.

[skvaderarts]

Jayvik Poll Request: Dinner and Diatribes

Because THIS POST has been haunting me for about three weeks lol!

I've made you degenerates wait long enough!

Chapter 1 Summary: Word Count 2.6K A03 Link

Jayce returns from the ruined future to fulfill his promise to Viktor, only to find him inconspicuously missing and his commune in shambles. As it turns out, his disappearance is the work of none other than Ambessa, twink hunter extraordinaire and connoisseur of only the finest local cuisine. And what cuisine could be more exquisite than the Herald of Zaun himself?

She isn't in the business of asking nicely, but perhaps a bribe is in order? After all, why ask when the stakes are this high, and you hold all the cards? A spicy meal just means more flavor, right? Jayce better hurry and find Viktor before she decided to have a taste and find out...

For: @melonbear51 @wuekka @mythbookworm18 @ahsokasgfriend @dragonling348 @coldcoleslaw @chaosyetorder @fandomsarepainful and @gonzanova

Still working my way through this list of one-shots from the poll! 2/6

Chapter two is now available!

Chapter 1: Sectarian Drift

Note: I can only apologize for how long it took me to start this cursed project. I’ve been in the Jayvik trenches fighting for my life working on so many other projects all at once trying to find the time for this one because LOL! ALSO! This is going to be multiple chapters because PLOT, damn it. 

—

The comune loomed large against the backdrop of the trenches, sparkling like a gleaming beacon of unearthly splendor amongst the squalor and dissidence. It was brilliant, reflecting the light and casting a divine halo across all that came within its circumference. A promise made in silence that assured safety and respite. As resplendent and beloved as its founder. A haven born of a genuine wish to better the community it sat within.

Beautiful.

And yet, it was quiet. So very quiet.

Approaching from a crevice in the side of the canyon that overlooked the encampment from the left side of the crystal dome at its center, Jacye stood silently. Readying himself for the descent. For the grim task that awaited him below.

An air of anxiety and despair filled the area as he proceeded. Everyone seemed on edge, as though their minds were focused on other more troubling matters. Or perhaps that was just his perception of them. It was a beautiful place, but something about the somewhat vacant stares that the majority of the inhabitants wore made his skin crawl. He felt a strong jolt of pain shoot through his body and slam into his head as he snuck through the village, causing him to buckle and clasp his ringing skull in anguish, groaning in pain. Fragments of undefinable light and sound slammed through this tired brain. Oh, how he longed for them to be simple figments of his imagination. But he had seen the horrors of that place. Of the waking nightmare brought about by their shared Hextech dream.

Using what little remaining strength he possessed to pry himself off the ground and back into a standing position, he continued towards the gleaming dome in the distance. Ravaged as his mind was by flickers of the truth of his environment, he pushed ahead, his heart racing as he was startled by the act of walking into a group of comune dwellers. He drew his weapon, aiming it at one of the misshapen creatures that stood before him. So clear in his mind and yet something felt off. He closed the maw of the corrupted Mercury Hammer, taking in the sight of a young boy before him. A shudder lurched up his body as his stomach turned. 

Another child. Not again. It was always a child.

Rushing toward the golden dome, he slowly made his way inside. A heavy sigh shuddered past his lips as he lifted the handle of the hammer, his back aching from the endeavor as he swallowed and readied himself for the brutality he would eminently commit. His body quaked like a weak branch in a storm at the thought of what he was about to do. Could he look Viktor in the eyes and watch as they dimmed, the life leaving his body as a direct result of his action? Would it be a merciful kill, one faithful strike that would serve as the guillotine for his execution, snuffing out his brilliance in a single, painless strike? 

Was it wrong to say he hoped so? He didn’t want Viktor to suffer. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to make Viktor suffer.

The more he pondered it, the less he wanted to. This had to be done. He’d sworn to stop Viktor, and this was the only surefire method of accomplishing that goal that he could fathom. No matter the cost to himself, he had to end things here and now. For the sake of the very city they’d always aimed to make a brighter future for by virtue of their shared dream Oh, how had it come to this?

He stepped through the dark passage and into the brilliant light of the central sphere. No doubt the place that Viktor would reside. He didn’t need to ask the members of the comune who their leader was. Who else could it be? To enshrine in them the virtues of blacksmithing and botany in the form of agriculture and construction, both branches of their singular interests. Viktor always had such a way with plants. It was no wonder that fragments of those interests should manifest here. Even the dome that had been constructed for him to take up residence in resembled the Hexgate. Their magnum opus. And a dark, golden reflection of that masterwork. A masterpiece that now threatened to destroy everything and yet the thing they’d put so many sleepless nights and priceless memories into the construction of. Oh, why had their beautiful dream been cursed from its inception? It had been such a beautiful thing once upon a time. But that felt like a lifetime ago now. Long before the pit he’d plunged into. Before the Hexcore. Before the cruel realities of the world had been laid bare before them. Better days.

But as Jayce stood at the heart of the comune, a sense of disquietude gradually trickled into him. This structure was… empty. There was no furniture. There were no decorations. No other entrances were apparent to him from where he stood. Instead, he was greeted with an unshakable sense that something integral had vanished from the place where he now stood. Something unspeakable was at work here. Something undeniably sinister.

Retreating the way he’d entered, he stepped out into the blinding daylight, his head slamming yet again as he felt his stomach lurch. With willpower alone, he managed not to collapse and vomit, instead steadying himself and using his free hand to rub his face and scalp in an upward motion, shaking his head back and forth as if to rid himself of the kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that plagued his troubled mind. Would these attacks ever stop, or was this another aspect of his self-made hell? Only time would tell, and the capacity for optimism has long since left him.

A man with short, shaggy reddish-brown hair approached him in much the same way that one would approach a manic dog; with an abundance of caution and a low, gentle voice. He seemed sympathetic and worried, but vaguely displeased by what he saw.

“Please, sir. This is a place of peace. Of rest. I’d ask that you-”

Jayce sighed. Ah, so that was what this was about. Still, as taken aback as he was by the request, he understood. No one here seemed to be armed. It was impressive that he’d approached someone as potentially dangerous as he was at all, with that reality taken into consideration. And judging by his face, this wasn’t the first time it had happened.

“Where’s Viktor?” He was tired. He didn’t mean to come off as curt to the man, but he was operating on the vestiges of the adrenaline that he’s costed on to make it this far. He didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t delay lest he come to his senses and lose his resolve. Remaining diligent was his only recourse against the nightmare that unfolded around him.

The man shifted into a more formal position, clasping his fingers together behind his back as he did a half-decent job of concealing how thrown off he was by Jayce’s wild-eyed stare and his feral demeanor. To look into his amber brown eyes was to delve into the depths of madness itself, and to do so unflinchingly took resolve. A resolve that Jayce would have admired if he’d been cognisant of just how out of sorts he appeared. He had some concept, but no concrete idea of just how deranged he appeared.

“Our Herald… He has gone from us. To where, we do not know, but… “ He admitted sheepishly, unable to hide the tinge of sadness and concern in his voice.

Jayce’s pupals momentarily widened in surprise before he let out an exhausted huff. He didn’t need to ask the man who stood before him if this was typical behavior. It wasn’t. Now the uneasy air about the commune made perfect sense. They’d misplaced their messia.

“But?”

The robed man with the auburn hair looked from side to side, hesitant. He did not wish to speak the words that he was about to speak. “He vanished not long after the Noxians arrived.”

“I see.” He suddenly felt eyes on his back. The Noxians. He’d seen a handful of them on patrols as he’d ventured into the depths of the Undercity, but now it made better sense.  “Do you think he just left with them?”

There was no hesitation as the robed man shook his head, his eyes flickering and shifting in rainbow hues. There was a seriousness that had not been there moments ago. All sense of diplomacy evaporated as he leaned in just a smidgen, keeping his voice low as he sighed and shook his head again, this time more vigorously than before.

“I would not like to make accusations but… they entered one of the domes. The conservatory over there that our Herald so often frequents…” He gestured towards a domed structure not far from where they stood. The emerald stained glass that its roof was partially constructed with appeared to be mottled with holes as a means to invite fresh air and sunshine in. “ I saw them carry something out. Not long after a transport of some sort left here.”

Viktor always had such a way with plants…

Now things were starting to add up. But at the same time, they genuinely weren’t. Judging by the sense of unease that enveloped every particle of air in the commune, Viktor’s sudden disappearance was as unannounced as it was ominous. This was out of character for him. Everyone who hadn’t seen something was still suspicious, but they were keeping as quiet as possible about it. To maintain an air of normality, if ever such a thing existed in the first place.

“No one tried to stop them?”

“As I said, this is a place of peace. Our Herald was very clear that there would be no violence within the walls of our sanctum. Not even for his sake.” He looked down at the ground, disheartened. His concern for their wayward leader was more apparent than ever.

Jayce eyed him linguistically, making a mental note of the markings that covered his face. They looked like… fingertips. He noticed the pattern that the flowing metal patchwork on his body took; how much of his body it had covered. His condition, whatever it had been, had seemingly been mended by Viktor’s influence. To the extent that the Arcane mended anything. But if his faith in his savior was a result of this treatment, then he couldn’t help but understand. And wonder if Viktor truly understood the ramifications of what he’d done to these people.

They seemed content. Happy, even. But something was just missing from them.

“Uh huh,” He nodded, clenching his jaw and squinching his eyes shut momentarily as another disorienting wave of incomprehensible arcane energy pulsed through his frayed mind, fragmenting it further. He huffed in frustration as it passed, shuddering as he slowly reopened his eyes one at a time and fixated them on his conversation partner.

What had happened here?

“I am genuinely sorry for the Herald’s absence, as I am certain he is as well. I’m sure he would be more than happy to help you with… “ The commune member gestured vaguely towards Jayce, unsure of how best to describe his current condition. But his conviction that anything that might be ailing Jayce could be addressed by their wayward leader was as unsurprising as it was founded. From what the tired man could make out, everyone here seemed to have been touched by the arcane. Touched by Viktor. By the Hexcore and whatever terrible will it wished to exert upon these people. He wished he understood what was going on here.

It was time to get some answers.

“Where are the Noxians?” Jayce would start with the obvious culprits. It wouldn’t be as simple as waltzing up to their door and politely asking for his missing partner’s whereabouts, but… “And how long have they been here? How long has he been gone?”

“Since this time yesterday on both accounts. Give or take a few hours for their arrival. They have an encampment nearby, but I must advise against visiting it. They are well armed and you appear to be… alone.”

Jayce grumbled under his breath, huffing heavily in annoyance as fatigue set in faster and faster due to how long he’d been stationary. Yes. He was certainly that. Alone.

That being said, nothing about this situation sat right to him. What were the Noxians doing down here at the bottom of the trenches? And what could they possibly want with Viktor? Viktor who didn’t so much as entertain the notion of violence, let alone participate in it. Nothing about that had changed during his absence. If anything, his pacificism had seemingly been doubled down upon to the point of it actively endangering him. Their presence there was so out of place. Had they ventured to this place in search of something else and he’d simply been a casualty along the way?

He exhaled heavily. It didn’t make sense to him. What value could Viktor in particular have to…

The reality of the situation hit him like a stone to the back of the skull.

Ambessa.

Mel had warned him about her involvement with the higher houses of Piltover. About how she’d been attempting to maneuver her way into the good graces of its governing body through Salo. Salo who he’d made short work of at the gates. Who had shown him a small glimpse of Viktor’s newfound power upon his arrival back in his own timeline. Ambessa had tried as much with him not long before everything had gone so horribly wrong. She was the only person who he could imagine would make a play at Viktor specifically. But did she have the motive? Was she aware of his knowledge of Hextech? Who could have told her? The vast majority of the general public didn’t acknowledge Viktor’s existence, even less his vast contributions. Something that had always irked him on his former lab partner's behalf. Even if Mel was her daughter, he highly doubted that she would risk putting Viktor in such danger. Her relationship with her mother made that possibility even less likely. It hadn’t been her. But someone had brought Viktor to her attention one way or another.

They were a legion of war at the beag and call of the matron of the battlefield. Nothing was beyond her knowledge or reach. Her presence here proved as much. Who else would march a Noxian detachment into a place as inhospitable and unknown to the world above as the depths of the trenches? They had to be making a play at Hextech through Viktor.

It was the only motive he could think of. But then it wasn’t, was it?

Jayce remembered the first time he’d met Ambessa. She’d summoned him for a meeting in a bathhouse, of all places. A bathhouse where he’d been attended to by a young man who looked mysteriously like Viktor, if he was willing to be honest with himself. He’d nearly mistaken him for his friend at first sight. It was clear that she had a type, but surely…

For some inexplicable reason, he felt his blood boil at the prospect. He was there to confront Viktor and do what needed to be done, yes… but the prospect of him potentially being in danger, of someone being in a position to harm him. For him to be exploited for the nefarious ends of an insidious warmonger. He gritted his teeth in anger.

He needed to find Viktor. Now.

—

A shorter intro chapter than I normally do. Rest assured, the others will be longer. I’m not sure yet how long this story will be. It’s sort of a “it’s done when it’s done” situation in terms of chapter count. I’m thinking around 5 currently but you never know. Depends on how long it takes for Ambessa to make eye contact with Viktor lol! But I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far! Please let me know what you think if it’s not too much trouble (I enjoy feedback!) and I’ll see you in the next chapter! Hoping to have part two out ASAP!

[prythiansprincess]

kiss with a fist | chapter eight.

home | chapters | playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: people i don't like - upsahl

author's note: moving it along. can't believe that there's only five more chapters left. this series has been my baby so i'm like in shambles as the end comes closer, but also excited.

The night of the dinner was finally upon you and the amalgamation of dread, trepidation, and wrath clouded over you like a malevolent fog. You weren’t looking forward to it, but you knew that Theo was right. If sitting through one lousy dinner secured a spot with the M.E.S.P, then you would begrudgingly grin and bear it. 

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. As Luna promised, Harry was waiting for you outside of Professor Slughorn’s office. Harry was dressed in a button down and a dark blazer paired with freshly pressed trousers. Despite his smart attire, his signature messy, black hair and slightly skewed glasses softened his appearance. 

Harry smiled, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Hi, Y/N. You look lovely.” 

You smoothed the front of your dress, which Pansy had helped you pick out. The fabric was sleek and silky and as dark as night. The front was simple, but the back dipped low and revealed more skin than you were used to. It was completely out of your comfort zone, but Pansy had insisted that you were meant to wear the dress.

“Thanks, Harry. So do you.” You stood up straighter, balancing on your impossibly tall heels—another Parkinson addition, before rolling your shoulders back. “Shall we?” 

The inside of Professor Slughorn’s office had been transformed into an entirely different space. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling and covered the marble columns like tapestry. A round mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and sat upon it were fresh fruits, expensive cheese, and cold cuts. The plates were set in a circular formation and each one contained a placard with a different student’s name. 

You took your place, quietly settling in between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl—Melissa? No, Melinda. You remembered that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries. 

As you glanced around the table, you realized that while there were at least two or three members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, there was only one Slytherin in the midst. You weren’t that familiar with Cassius Warrington, but you knew that he was currently being pursued by the Chudley Cannons, which was plenty of incentive for Slughorn to invite him into the mix. 

You were well aware that the presence of each student was contingent on the benefits they could help provide Slughorn and vice versa. After all, that was the purpose of the slug club, but facing it head on still made your stomach roil. You barely touched the filet mignon and scalloped potatoes for fear of retching it all back up. The conversations happening around you made it impossible to eat.

It was just endless prattling and bragging on and on about connections and achievements, much to Slughorn’s delight. The superficiality of it all made you nauseous. When McLaggen name dropped his influential uncle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you nearly pulled your hair out. You watched with a grimace as he lapped up his soup with tiny licks, sort of like a lizard toying with a fly. 

Out of instinct, you turned to your right to snicker with Theo only to remember that he wasn’t there, which put you in a foul mood all over again. 

“He does love to prattle on, doesn’t he?” Harry muttered in a low voice. 

You nodded. “I imagine he only speaks to hear the sound of his own voice.” 

“I take it that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.” 

“If by enjoying you mean considering pulling my eyelashes out one by one, then you would be correct, Potter.” 

“Forget the eyelashes. I might pluck my own eyes out all together if I hear McLaggen say my uncle Tiberius one more time.” 

You snorted. “If you’re as miserable as I am, then what are you doing here?” 

He shrugged. “People expect me to be here. To go on as normal. It’s important to have some semblance of that after last year, I suppose.” 

You nodded sympathetically. Everyone looked up to Harry. He was a hero, a practical living legend, the boy who lived not once but twice. You imagined carrying all of that pressure on his shoulders couldn’t have been easy. 

“What about you? You’re obviously not enjoying yourself, so why subject yourself to all of this?” 

“I want to become a potioneer after I graduate. Slughorn is an influential member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, which means he’s my key to getting accepted so while this dinner is physically and mentally draining all of my energy, I don’t have much of a choice. Being the first muggleborn member of the society would be monumental. Not just for me, but for other witches in the future."

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “You know, Mione’s probably going to be the first muggleborn witch to become Minister of Magic.” 

You smiled. While you two weren’t close by any means, you have always admired Hermione. Her academic achievements were the cause of your envy for many years, but after all that she had gone through, you stopped feeling that stab of jealousy. 

“The wizarding world would be lucky to have Granger leading it,” you agreed. “Which reminds me, why isn’t she here tonight?” 

“She declined the invitation. As did Ron.” 

“I can’t blame them. I half expected you to do so as well. The three of you have done enough to last a lifetime.” 

“Yes, but like I said. It’s important for me to participate in these things. To boost morale, or so I’ve been told.” 

It was fascinating to you that Harry could joke about such things. If you had battled the darkest wizard of all time and lived to tell the tale, you would probably tell everyone to kindly fuck off forever, but you suppose that was the reason why Harry was the chosen one and not you. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re still fighting?” you asked. “Voldemort and his followers are either dead or imprisoned, yes. But we’re still rooting out their ideologies to this day and now there’s this new suspicion surrounding an entire house despite the fact the Death Eaters had members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff too.” 

Harry nodded solemnly. “Everyone thinks that the war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, but in reality, our work is barely beginning. The hardest part is healing. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the fact that Tom was a Slytherin with my own biases about the whole house itself, but unlearning all of those misconceptions is a process. It takes a lot to change a person’s perception. We can’t all be as smart and logical as you Ravenclaws.” 

“If only, right?” you said with a smile. 

“Well, we could always try it your way and threaten to push people off of the bleachers.” His green eyes crinkled with amusement. 

You groaned. “I can’t believe you heard about that.” 

“I must say, Ron and I had a proper laugh when we heard about it. He still hasn’t forgotten his stay in the hospital wing thanks to Romilda’s tainted chocolate cauldrons.” You grimaced, which made Harry chuckle. “I am sorry about what she said to Pansy though. We aren’t friends by any means, but I’d like to think that we’re at least on civil terms. Luna talks about her fondly and if Parkinson’s got your approval, then it’s safe to assume that she’s treating our friend well.” 

“She is,” you agreed. “They are nauseatingly perfect for each other.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. We all deserve a little happiness.” 

“Speaking of which, how’s Ginny doing?” 

The boy who lived blushed furiously. “She’s well. How’s Theo doing?” 

You smirked. “Touche, Potter. Touche.”

As the night droned on, you found excuses to visit the refreshment table just to get away from all the insufferable preening. While you fixed yourself a cup of tea, you sensed a presence to your right. Cassius surveyed the variety of teas on the table, but made no move to select any.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just needed an excuse to get up.” 

You chuckled. “Join the club, Warrington.” He smiled a little as you dropped a sugar cube into your cup. “Congratulations on the recruitment by the way. Your teammates won’t shut up about it.” 

Cassius scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy. “Thanks, Y/N. Everything is still in the negotiation stage, but after the last game, I think my chances are looking good. The boys said you were there for the match.” 

“Yeah, I was. This might not mean much since I haven’t watched a game since fourth year, but you guys were great out there. It was bloody brutal. I had a blast.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. We do our best to put on a show,” he said. Warrington toyed with his saucer. He looked around before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Listen, Y/N. I heard about what you did for Pansy.”

“You and the rest of the school, apparently.” 

“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for her. Pansy—she—helped me out a lot after my father was imprisoned and I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone in Slytherin, especially those that were caught in the crossfire last year, owe a lot to her. She’s one of the good ones.”

You nodded, smiling. “I wouldn’t have let her date my best friend if I didn’t think that myself.” 

“Luna makes her really happy. I’m glad that they have each other. Pansy earned it.” 

“They both did.”

The conversation was cut short as Slughorn tapped his spoon against his goblet. The two of you reluctantly made your way back to the table.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. It is a great privilege to be able to gather after all that passed last year. I urge you to look around at your fellow witches and wizards, remembering the fallen and celebrating the sacrifices that have all brought us back to this castle. As we commemorate this monumental moment, let us look not to the past but to the future.” 

You swirled the glass of sparkling non-alcoholic spritzer, only half listening to the generic drivel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. The more Slughorn talked, the more irritated you felt. There was all this talk of looking to the future, moving on, hoping for a better tomorrow, but what use was that if you couldn’t even fix the present?

Professor Slughorn raised his glass in the air. “A toast to the best of the best.” 

That one phrase was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had no idea why, but those words finally made you crack.

“That’s not right though, is it professor?” The whole table fell silent as every head turned in your direction. “Sure we may be smart, accomplished, but not the best.” 

Slughorn reeled back in surprise. His expression faltered before he plastered on a false smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. All of you worked hard to get here.” 

“None of us are even the top student in your class. That would be Theo.” You were vaguely aware that you were raising your voice, but once the words tumbled past your lips, you couldn’t reel them back in. “But he’s not here because surely we can’t invite your star pupil to a slug club dinner if his father is in Azkaban for being a death eater. That would be like inviting the Dark Lord to dinner, but wait. Didn’t you already do that, professor?”

A gasp came from your right. Melinda stared at you as though you’d grown an extra head. 

“That’s quite enough, Y/N.”

Your humorless laughter echoed in the cavernous office. “Oh, but I’m just getting started. What was it that you said in your welcoming speech at the beginning of the year? Unity and reconciliation? Surely ostracizing someone for his father’s deeds, which he had nothing to do with by the way, judged and ruled by the Ministry itself, directly contradicts that sentiment, does it not? Or are we all just supposed to ignore this blatant display of discrimination against a perfectly innocent student?”

“Perfectly innocent?” scoffed McLaggen. “Nott comes from a long line of dark wizards as do the rest of the Slytherins. They show you an ounce of kindness and suddenly you become their little muggleborn pet.” 

To your surprise, Cassius leapt to his feet. “Don’t call her that,” he nearly growled. “Y/N is just being a good friend. She stood up for Pansy when no one else would and now she’s doing it for Theo, too. You want to compare ledgers, McLaggen? Didn’t your father and uncle conspire to bring the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control? They armed Voldemort and the Death Eaters then profited off of the war. They deserve to be in Azkaban just as much as my father does, but conveniently their records were wiped clean. Isn’t that why your family moved to France?” 

The room was utterly silent. McLaggen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but Cassius wasn’t done. He wheeled around to face the other attendees. “I’m not stupid. I know I was only invited because I’m being scouted by the Cannons, but I hoped that attending would make you see me as someone more than just a Death Eater’s son. I guess I was wrong and now I’m done with this farce. You’ll never stop seeing us as the villains.”

Without waiting for a response, Cassius stormed out of the room. He held his head up proudly, nodding to you and Harry as he made his graceful exit. 

“Cassius is right,” Harry declared. “So is Y/N. We can’t crucify every Slytherin for the mistakes of a few. That would make us no better than Voldemort himself.  The way I see it, the only way to get to the future we all fought for is to work with our fellow classmates, the Slytherins included. I hope you can learn to look past your biases and false perceptions, just as I’m learning how to.” 

Not a single person moved as Harry finished his speech. “Right, well that’s that then.” He turned over to you. “Shall we get going, Y/N?” 

“Gladly.” 

You pushed your chair back and paid no mind to the burning gazes seared upon your back. Before following Harry out of the office, you leaned in close to McLaggen and lowered your voice so only he could hear. “If you ever speak poorly of my friends again, I’ll dose you with a potion that makes your precious man parts shrivel.” 

Cormac paled several shades as you patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert, McLaggen. I heard chocolate ganache pairs well with prejudice.” 

The castle was quiet at this time of night. You and Harry walked side by side through the dungeons in silence. For someone who just blew up her academic career, you felt fairly calm. You knew that speaking up for your friends was the right thing to do. 

“Thank you for speaking up back there,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t owe anyone anything after all you’ve done, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

“I do though. Hearing Cassius in there, I realized that the Ministry has failed both sides in a lot of ways. I think we’re all so eager to go back to the way things were before that we’re willing to overlook a lot of things. I’ve never even thought about families like the McLaggens who aided the Dark Lord, but got off with a light sentence. Or people like Cassius and Pansy and Theo who face a lot of unfair judgment from the rest of the wizarding world.” 

“That’s the point, Harry. You shouldn’t have to think about it. None of us should. We’re all just children forced to grow up by the war because of the failure of those before us. It’s unfair to be burdened with a load so heavy.”

Harry sighed, nodding. “But if we don’t carry our load, we risk repeating the same mistakes and I won’t have that. We have to do better than the past generations.” 

“We will,” you declared. “We have to.” 

The torch lights drew shadows across the stone floors as you contemplated. 

“You really care about them, don’t you?” It was more a statement rather than a question. You nodded, which made Harry smile. “I can tell that they care about you, too. Especially Theo.” 

“We spent years in competition with one another, the classic bitter rivals. It’s kind of ironic that we became friends during our last year here.” 

Harry looked at you strangely. “Right, friends…”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at the green eyed wizard. “What’s that tone for, Potter?” 

His mouth quirked. “Nothing, it’s just—well, Theo looks at you like I used to look at Ginny. With pining and yearning, as Mione liked to say. And the way you defended him earlier, Ginny would’ve done the same for me.” You were silent for a moment as you absorbed his words. “A word of advice, Y/N. I know it’s against those Ravenclaw instincts, but sometimes it’s good to get out of your head and tune into your heart instead.” 

“Since when did the boy who lived become an expert on all things romance?” you teased. 

“A handful of near death experiences really helps put things into perspective.” 

You grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Potter.” The two of you came to a stop at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. “Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight. I genuinely hope to never do it again.” 

Harry laughed. “You and me both, Y/N.” 

You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in thanks, feeling uncharacteristically chipper despite the disastrous dinner. “Good night, Harry.” 

He smiled, blushing slightly. “Good night, Y/N.” 

As you climbed up the spiraling staircase, you saw a glimpse of snow falling softly over the castle grounds. When you stopped and stared at the glittering landscape, you recalled the other night in Hogsmeade when Theo leaned in to brush the snowflakes off of your lips. 

There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

You were certain that you already knew what Theo was about to say, because you’ve been meaning to tell him the same thing too. When you reached the fifth floor, your grin had grown so wide that your cheeks ached from smiling. As you slipped past the bronze eagle knocker, you caught a glimpse of a discarded bouquet of wisterias peeking out from a nearby trash bin. 

With a pause, you plucked a petal off of your favorite flower and tucked it into your braid. You went to sleep that night thinking that Harry was right. 

Maybe it was time to let your heart do the talking. 

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16

Please let me know if you'd like to be added.

[l0serg1rls]

all robby needed was some actual words of affirmation and for someone to believe in him for him to actually focus.

at the start, EVERYONE clocks that robby might not be okay. miguel says ‘robby is gonna be fine’ ,, demetri responds with ‘i wouldn’t be fine’ and shit he’s right because i wouldn’t be fine either. i’d be in a shambles 🙁

in the hotel room, where they’re yapping about robby with no shame knowing he’s in the room WITH them just taking a shower and talking about his performance. they KNOW what the issue is.

but noooo instead of being good friends / teammates we’re gonna shit talk him, and not be there for him.

it was OBVIOUS what the issue was, LIKE SEE-THROUGH, GLASS, VERY CLEAR. like after watching that shit you can’t tell me that people in miyagi do actually gaf about him. poor dude was obviously not okay and struggling but instead, people taking slick ass jabs at him, yapping and bitching and moaning about a captain title.. instead of simply being there for him.

to further emphasise on that let’s talk about bar scene.. robby in that bar, sam left. but his team WAS there. you’re telling me that they all just left knowing damn well robby still in that fucking bar drinking up a storm. more so, how could they NOT know?? and people expect me to believe they CARE?

maybe in another universe, not this one.

i said this before but it took miguel way too long to apologise to robby + ask what’s wrong. robby just got done dirty over and over again in this part.

i was expecting robby to be unbalanced becasue of tory, i was thinking it would’ve happened maybe twice? but it was literally annoying continuous. it pissed me off actually.

like no one believes in him, girlfriend put him on break, gets SA’d, doing terribly in fights, what the fuck man?

i was gonna add johnny in this and say that johnny should’ve picked up on it but he cares more about devon, miguel than his actual son.

FATHER OF THE YEAR !! #whatajoke

part 2 did robby keene incredibly dirty. part 3, is kinda looking promised.. i saw that clip of robby kicking axel in: inside the dojo on netflix 👀

please ck writers do this one thing and maybe robby keene win🙏

edit: miguel was not giving him tough love. HE WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE! get off miguel dick for ONCE and call out bad behaviour when you see it. if anything, miguel making him doubt if he deserves to be captain on top of kwon fucking with him AND him being unbalanced becasue of tory..

miguel might’ve just made shit WORSE. y’all it’s a full time job defending robby keene im telling you. im TIRED 😞😞

[fictionismyreality3]

CAN YOU GIVE US MORE OF JASON STALKING?? I SWEAR TO U, IS REALLY HOTTTT AAAAH

I loved your writing btw

Omgomgomg hi babes!!!! You’re my first ask ever!!! You’ll forever have place in my heart 🥲 but really that is so sweet of you, and toTALLY STALKER JASON IS SO HOT HERE YOU GO

A Little bit of Sunshine

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: stalker!jason todd, innocent!reader

Warnings: stalking, mention of drugs

Notes: I’m actually dying at picturing getting stalked by Jay 😩 like that should not be hot but it is??? If people like this I might make it into a mini series or something 👀

He was going to stop the first night.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Since Jason had come back from the Pit, being alive was something of a nuisance. Whatever weird ass magic they used to bring him back to life had made it harder to control himself in every way. He went on a year-long violent rampage, much to Bruce’s disdain, that left Gotham in shambles.

Only now was he actually putting a good face behind the name of the Red Hood. It’s not like he wanted to hurt people, but when everything was so vivid, it was hard to listen to Bruce’s non-lethal policy. But as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted Bruce to trust him again.

So, when Dick was called out of Bludhaven for some other crisis, Jason volunteered to help with patrol.

It was the third day of what was supposed to be a week-long shift in Bludhaven, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sure he had broken the legs of a few robbers when they tried to run from him, but it was all in good fun.

In fact, Jason was dying for some fun. Bludhaven was somehow even darker and dingier than the rest of Gotham, and it was getting tiring only having drug dealers to play with. The rain was coming down, casting a foggy overcast to the darkening sky, and most of the sane residents had retreated to their homes. Everyone who had ever been to Bludhaven knew that nighttime was when the dangerous criminals liked to do their work.

Which is why Jason was a little astonished that a seemingly random girl was stupid enough to walk home in the dark.

Living in Bludhaven wasn't ideal, but the rent was cheap and that's all that mattered. You had been working at a donation center for the homeless for the last few months, wanting to help out the city in any way you could. It wasn't that you were trying to be a hero or something, you just didn't like seeing other people suffering. It also helped that volunteer work looked killer on a resume. The staff loved you, and quickly entrusted you with the keys, giving you the last shift of the night.

You usually walked home with one of your co-workers, a woman in her 60s named Rose. It wasn't the typical company for someone your age, but her never-ending stories were nice to zone out to after a long day of work. Rose was sick today, which meant you had to walk home alone. Looking out the window, you saw that it was already dark. Definitely not ideal. But, you had made the trip hundreds of times and knew all the shortcuts to get you home quicker.

Jason watched as the girl walked down the dimly-lit streets. He was going to just leave it, and let you learn your lesson the hard way, but then he took a second glance at you.

He thought the Pit bringing him back to life was the closest thing he'd ever get to seeing heaven. But now?

Now he knew he was dead wrong.

A soft face with pretty lips and pretty hair and pretty everything. Jason felt his heart beat inside his chest with a vigour that betrayed the dead man he thought he was. All of the lonely, unclear and dangerous thoughts in his head suddenly vanished. His breaths were heavy and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pretty little thing walking all alone. He felt like there was blood flowing in his veins again. He felt alive.

If you were walking alone at this time of night you were either innocent or stupid, and the innocence was practically rolling off you in waves. You were far too sweet for this place. His eyes scanned the logo of the bag you were carrying and his heart exploded and regrew in his chest all at once. The kind face you had made sense if you were generous enough to work at one of Bludhaven's seedy donation buildings. His mouth went dry at the idea of anything remotely distressing happening to you.

Fuck it.

He was just gonna make sure you got home safe. That's all it was.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Jason silently followed you as you walked home, watching from above like a twisted guardian angel. He was always on high alert, he was raised to be vigilant, but he found himself paying extra close attention to every single movement he saw out of the corner of his eye. Logic was telling him that if he was going through all this trouble to make sure a random girl was safe, he should just jump down from the roof and walk you home instead of watching like some-

Oh, that was cute.

Jason's gaze followed your hands as you pulled your keys from your bag. The fabric keychain they were attached to was dotted with tiny drawings of the sun. He hadn't even realized that you'd gotten home. Perching on a rooftop, he kept you in his vision while he quickly scanned the area where you lived. It wasn't the best, nothing in Bludhaven was, but at least it wasn't at the south tip of the city.

You had finally gotten home after a long day. Oddly, the walk didn't feel as scary as you expected. Sighing, you took out your keys and unlocked your front door, slipping inside your apartment. After making sure your door was locked, you kicked off your shoes and hung up your jacket, a yawn falling from your lips. You were definitely gonna call it an early night.

The soft clicking of your front door shutting brought Jason's attention back to the present. You obviously got home safe. He should get going. He should get going.

But he stayed rooted on the spot.

The rain fell around him, hitting the concrete rooftop he was frozen on. His helmet suddenly felt claustrophobic and he took it off gasping, the rain soaking his hair. The cold rush of despairing thoughts that he had grown used to flooded back into his brain. His heart grew still in his chest and he felt his smile disappear.

He had smiled?

He hadn't smiled since the pit. He hadn't smiled since he died. You retreated into your apartment and took all the sunshine with you. The sunshine that hadn't been able to reach his skin for years. With a sickening thought, Jason realized that he was about to make a very, very, very bad decision.

Who was he to deny himself happiness? Didn't he deserve to be happy after everything he had been through? He argued with himself as his gaze remained on your front door, trying to will himself to push away the wickedly possessive desire that he felt for you. Jason ran through all the possible outcomes that could come from.. whatever this was, but nothing held a match at the prospect of having you. He had to have you.

Fuck it.

Locking away the part of his mind which screamed at him to stop, he leapt from the rooftop, landing softly on the balls of his feet. Carefully, his head on a swivel for anyone walking by, he took out his phone. His finger hovered over the photo button, his mind telling him that if he did this, there was no going back. He snapped a photo of your apartment.

As he made his way back to the safehouse he was staying in, he could feel you being cemented in his mind. Every raindrop that hit his skin felt like it was washing away everything that he thought was important until only you remained. The image of your precious face became ingrained in his mind. By the time he got back to his safehouse, the only goal he had was to know as much about you as he possibly could.

He was already at his computer, his helmet tossed to the other side of the room. His clothes were still soaked from the rain, but he didn't care. This was more important. You were more important.

Using Bruce's tech, being careful not to leave a trace, he uploaded the photo he had taken of your apartment and began to run a search. Within less than 5 minutes he had everything he would need to keep you for himself. Your school records, social media posts, and more were at his fingertips. He took the liberty of adding himself to your bank account, hacking in so he could be aware of every transaction you made. Soon he would be the one making them for you.

Jason spent the night scrolling through your information. For once he was glad for Bruce's training, as his disciplined mind allowed him to commit everything about you to memory. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and he was vaguely aware that it was well past 3AM, but he was enraptured reading your search history.

How to change a lightbulb?

Cute.

As soon as he could get a copy of your key made you would never need to change a lightbulb again. Every so often he would come across a photo of you dressed up for some event; a christmas party, a graduation, whatever. When he saw those photos, every doubt that was trying to creep back into his mind was pushed away by his increasingly twisted desire for you.

Jason knew he had gone off the deep end, but if this is what drowning felt like he would gladly let you kill him all over again. When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep knowing you now belonged to him.

And you didn't even know it yet.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Ten

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 3,395

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature content

Notes; Hey guys, I decided to update on Sunday instead of Saturday. I felt a bit drained yesterday, played some 'Fields of Mistria' and came up with some more ideas to use in the future for this fic. Also, I realized I said this was my favourite chapter- I lied. It's the next one, but I do love the ending of this one.

Prev || Next

Masterlist

Once you’re done eating, you stand up from the chair and tuck your phone back into your pocket then leave the room. You pause half-way out the door, noticing a set of folded up clothes on the statue to the left of the room then look down at the clothes you wore to the Nest. You have been wearing them for a few days now…You sigh, grabbing the clothes and you head back into the room you were just in. You change into the clothes which were just a simple pair of dark, ripped blue jeans and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt is almost too big for you so you just tuck it in and put on the black boots, that were also provided for you. You wondered for a moment if this was Sylus’ shirt, but you quickly brush away that thought and head outside to meet up with the man.

Your walking slows down as you notice he’s changed as well. Wearing a zipped up leather jacket with the matching leather pants as he leans back against a motorcycle. His fingerless gloved hands in his pockets as always. Though your mind is in shambles seeing him dressed like this, you do your best to act unaffected. You walk closer with a small sigh, and the moment he notices you, he tosses a helmet toward you. You catch it and raise a brow, “Are we going to experience the sights and sounds of the N109 Zone?” “Do you have nine lives? Curiosity killed the cat.” His voice is as cold as ever as he stands up straight and turns his back to you, about to get on his motorcycle. “Then…I shouldn’t go.” You try your best to stand firm, holding the helmet back out to him and Sylus cocks his head to the side, his back still toward you before he sighs and turns around. He walks up to you, roughly grabbing the helmet before plopping it onto your head. He fastens the helmet, tilting your head to look up at him. “You like to bargain, don’t you?” He asks before turning his back to you again, he sits down on his bike, putting his hands on the bars.

As he does this, you notice black and red smoke swirling around you before it firmly wraps around your body, tugging you onto the motorcycle. You let out a shout of surprise as you land behind him on the seat, one hand going to his side to steady yourself. “But you’re not yet qualified.” Is all Sylus says as he revs up his motorcycle and drives off. “Are there no speed limits in the N109 Zone??” You ask, your arms subconsciously wrapping firmly around Sylus’ waist as the sights around you blur with how fast he was driving.

The motorcycle suddenly halts to a stop as Sylus drifts into the parking lot. He gets up, pulling his helmet off with his back to you as his evol wraps back around you to take you off of his vehicle. “If you want to stay out of trouble, behave yourself inside.” He says as he turns to face you and you decide to be a bit bratty since, after all, he needs you, “And if I refuse?” Though, that wasn’t a smart idea. His evol wraps tightly around you and you let out a strangled noise as it pulls you closer to him. “It…hurts!” You wince out, breathing a bit heavier as you panic a bit. “You’ll hurt even more,” He whispers, his gaze unwavering as he looks down at you before he withdraws his evol and turns his back to you, walking toward the large sliding doors of the warehouse. You quickly follow behind him, silently as you wrestled with your thoughts.

“Who is it? If you want to order something, bring your own protocore. I won’t accept anything that isn’t high grade.” You hear a man say from inside of the building. You watch as Sylus immediately makes himself at home, pulling a rolling chair with him as he walks before sitting down in it. He crosses his legs as he starts to flip a knife in between his long fingers. “Mr. Sylus? You usually don’t do surprise visits.” The shopkeeper says as he looks over at the white haired man. “I got you a guinea pig,” The seated man says as he flips his knife around, “It’s time for your evol linkage alteration project to have a living test subject.” Test subject? “Wait…You want to alter me?” Your brows raise, voice filled with surprise and a bit of betrayal, even if you didn’t trust him. You had at least expected him not to hurt you or if he did, that it wouldn’t hurt too badly. You search around the room, already panicking and looking for a way out.

“In that case.. . let me take a look first.” The shopkeeper says, keeping his attention on Sylus. So your opinion didn’t really matter here, it seems. The shopkeeper, who seemed nice enough, waves for you to follow him as he walks around a large table and when you turn to Sylus, he’s tapping the knife against his palm. You look back at the shopkeeper who is standing next to a high tech looking chair and sigh as you walk toward it. You take a seat, resting your hand on the scanner on the armrest. Since you can’t feel at ease, you look over at Sylus who was still playing around with the knife. Well, at least he looked hot doing it. That helped a bit with your nervousness, oddly enough. Then, you look over at the shopkeeper who was typing around on a hologram screen. “Sir…you’re not actually going to alter me, right?” You ask with a nervous laugh, “I’m just a normal evolver.”

“Trying to bargain with me is pointless. No one can change Sylus’ mind.” He shrugs, staring at the hologram screen in front of him. Then, he glances over at you, “...You have the resonance evol?” You look away from him with a small sigh. “Did they do anything while I was gone?” You hear Sylus speak as he tosses the knife to the side. It’s clear he’s not speaking to you. “Nothing too dramatic. Just two explosions, one in the northern suburbs and one in the Bloomshore District,” The shopkeeper says as if this is just something normal to say. Bloomshore District? Why does that sound familiar? Memories of the explosion you saw when you first arrived in this world flash before your eyes. This is related to what happened two months ago…

“They just made a bunch of shoddy products. I overestimated them,” Sylus muses and the shopkeeper sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, “And after doing all of those shameless things and making a mess, then they want you to be their scapegoat.” Scapegoat? So Onychinus really wasn’t to blame for the explosion…? The shopkeeper goes back to the hologram screen and you take the chance to speak up. “What are you talking about? Someone else made those two explosions happen?” You were still feeling heartbroken over losing Caleb and grandma, the feelings of the original main character still running rampant in your body. You look over at Sylus with a distraught yet disappointed expression on your face. “Oh dear, you look disappointed.” Sylus muses, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Not even bothering to turn his head to look at you. Your breath leaves your lips in a stuttered sigh as Sylus continues to psychoanalyze you, “Instead of searching for the truth, you’d rather swallow a lie that makes you feel better.” He finally turns his head to look at you and you turn your gaze back to your hand on the scanner.

“I’m afraid she’s not a suitable recipient. Her evol linkage is completely normal. Only the strength’s been suppressed.” The shopkeeper says as you lift your hand from the scanner, rubbing your wrist. Sylus raises a brow as he looks over at you, the shopkeeper now standing in front of him. “Did someone put in a suppressor?” “I…don’t think it’s physical.” The shopkeeper says as the leader of Onychinus rises to his feet and walks over to you. You quickly lift your hand up to say something, “It’s- It’s not my fault. I can resonate just fine with others.” You repeat what you said at Sylus’ home. Your hand closing in a fist as you weakly drop it into your lap, feeling a bit defeated that you can’t just resonate with him. “And that thing I asked you to alter…How’s that?” Sylus turns his head to look at the shopkeeper. “...It was difficult, but the maximum energy burst value has been increased tenfold.” The shopkeeper presses a button on his wrist and a wide set of double doors suddenly opens. Your gaze being drawn in that direction and your eyes widen at the sight of a big, bulky wanderer?

“Are you really going to use it?” The shopkeeper asks but Sylus answers by pointing at it with a finger, his evol energy shooting out toward it. The creature suddenly moves as if waking up. “She’s suppressed right? She just needs a little stimulation then.” The white haired man says and of course, your mind takes it in a dirty direction but you can’t ponder on that for too long because you realize he means he wants you to fight this thing.

“You’re insane-” You groan, standing up from your chair, your hands immediately going to your dual pistols. It seems Sylus wasn’t going to help you fight. Great. You lightly hit your head with your pistol and tighten your grip on them. You take a deep breath as the creature steps out of it’s ‘room’ and comes toward you. “Is it really necessary to fight in such an enclosed area??” You tilt your head back before shaking your head. As if your opinion matters at the moment, Sylus does what Sylus wants. You should’ve realized that by now. He’s actually kind of infuriating.

You do pretty well in your fight, all things considered. You’re not exactly sure what this is supposed to accomplish and as you’re distracted by those thoughts, you notice the creature’s large fist coming toward you and you tense up, ready to move out of the way but it suddenly stops. Its glowing fist goes dark and limply drops to the ground as it shambles back to its room.

“Alter her energy linkage now. Make it as strong as possible.” Sylus says as he walks toward you with one hand on his hip. He grabs hold of your wrist and you struggle, trying to pull away from him. “That’s not what we agreed to!” “Relax,” He says as he slams your hand against the wall behind you, “You can handle it.” Your hand squeezes shut into a fist as you struggle in his grasp, his other hand resting on your shoulder to keep you pinned flat against the wall. His long fingers pry your fist apart, lacing your fingers together as he leans close to your face. Your breath caught in your throat as you found your will to get away slipping from you.

“Ahem- uh, Mr. Sylus! I think there is…another reason why she can’t resonate.” You hear the shopkeeper, your ears slowly turning red as you were reminded that someone else was in the room with you. Though, you were happy that the shopkeeper was finally coming to your rescue. Sylus steps away from you a bit, turning his head to look at the other man with your hands still interlocked together. “You see… her evol is special. It utilizes the waves generated by the human brain’s magnetic field Maybe her brain’s magnetic field produces repulsive waves against you. That’s why she can’t resonate with you.” You? Feeling repulsed toward Sylus?

“Get to the point,” Sylus says, his brows furrowing together as an annoyed expression washes across his face, not looking at you nor the shopkeeper now. Almost seeming like he’s pouting. “To make a long story short…On a subconscious level, she’s either rejected you, scared of you, or…”The shopkeeper is a bit unwilling to continue, not wanting to upset Sylus, “disgusted by you.” He rubs the back of his neck and Sylus scoffs, staying silent for a moment. “Even if she undergoes alteration you won’t be able to resonate with her so long as she’s still…hostile toward you.”

Sylus sighs, turning toward you as if it's your fault this is happening. His brows were tightly knit together as the shopkeeper continued speaking, “And Mr. Sylus, if the alteration fails, she will be completely ruined. We need to address the cause first…” “Which means there’s something wrong with her.” The white haired man immediately pins the blame onto you, grabbing your wrist once more and you try to tug it away, bringing your other hand up to tug on his fingers, “You…Let go of me!” You were offended he had the nerve to say something was wrong with you when it was his fault in the first place. You struggle with pulling his hand off as the shopkeeper tries to mediate, “By the way, I have an evol stabilizer in the storage cabinet. I’ll make her use it.” This finally gets Sylus to let go of your arm with a sigh and you rub your wrist as he looks at you and then nods for you to go with the shopkeeper.

You quickly follow behind the other man, happy to be away from Sylus for the time being. The man leads you to the second floor and speaks, “Right now, you need to stay calm, Miss.” As he talks, he bends down to pull out a dusty electronic device from underneath a cabinet. “The N109 Zone is a chaotic place, and you have a part of an aether core. Accompanying him is the safest option.” “You know I’m carrying an aether core?” You ask, suddenly a bit suspicious. A burst of red light appears and scans your whole body. Several windows pop up on an old fashioned display screen, which shows the data is being analyzed. “I… recognized that protocurve. Monitoring aether cores used to be my job,” the shopkeeper admits and you look over the dusty electronic device, noticing an inconspicuous mark in the corner. You saw it in the files grandma had left behind for you. “The N109 Zone is a mess right now. An outsider like you who’s unfamiliar with the details can easily lose your life so sticking with Sylus might not be a bad idea. Better to be with him compared to some other people.”

“Sylus is…an unreasonable man. He may only want to alter me right now but what comes after that? What if I can never resonate with him? What would happen to me then.” You try to stay firm with your feelings but the shopkeeper, exasperated, shakes his head, “You’re just not used to the darkness yet. There are predators lurking in these depths that you haven’t seen.” What is up with everyone saying you haven’t seen darkness yet?? “Some people are even scarier than him?” You raise a brow, your thumb pointing behind you. “You say Sylus is heartless and unreasonable but sometimes, those with hearts are even crueler than those without.”

Hmm…Like Xavier said, the N109 Zone is very divided. Each faction only recognizes its own “allies”. Fighting alone is obviously not a good idea in a place like this but…if you really have to stay close to Sylus, you weren’t sure. On one hand, it might be safer but on the other, he’s unpredictable and unwavering. The shopkeeper’s concern seems to be genuine. After weighing your options, you nod and flash him a reassuring smile, “I understand what you mean. I’ll give it some thought.”

Beep

The lines on the screen rise and fall, showing two intertwined curves. “All right, there’s nothing wrong with your evol. The energy of the aether core inside you is also stable. Have you figured out what you’ll do next?” He asks and you blink a few times. The aether core’s other half is one of the items at the auction. Naturally, you don’t assume you could just get it by yourself. The only advantage you have is having part of an aether core in your heart. Since you can resonate with the energy…You should be able to sense its location. The real problem is figuring out how to escape the “predators lurking in these depths” after you get your hands on it.

The N109 Zone is currently a mess and there were going to be enemies no matter where you went. If you have to work with someone, the strongest person here would probably be the best option. You might have to end up making a deal with Sylus. Once realizing this, your next step becomes pretty clear. You get up and say goodbye to the shopkeeper before looking back at the familiar mark on his equipment, then back toward him. You notice his dark, weary expression. “Were you acquainted with my grandma?” You ask, softly. All he does is wave his hand, gesturing for you to leave as he presses his lips together in a thin line. “If all goes well for you. Whatever happens, then I can say I’ve repaid Miss Josephine’s kindness.”

Up until now, what everyone assumed was Onychinus was hunting down researchers who worked with aether cores before…but that shopkeeper, who seems to have a strong connection to grandma, is seeking Sylus’ protection. Maybe something else is going on…You head back down the stairs, lost in thought before noticing the workshop is empty.

“...Sylus?” You call out, noticing that the door curtains which were closed when you arrived were now rolled up. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as you step outside, glancing around for Sylus’ motorcycle…which is nowhere to be seen. “What the fuck…did he just ditch me?” You mutter under your breath, fighting the urge to pull your hair. “Sylus?” You call out once more, just on the off chance he’s hiding nearby or something. The only response you get is a faint thud from the unlit alley near to the workshop. It’s probably trash that fell onto the ground or a cat.

Great. He disappears just when you were actually thinking about whether or not you should work with him.

There’s only piles of scrap in the empty, dimly lit streets and as you look around, your heart pounded in your chest. You were suddenly anxious and nervous now that you were actually left alone. Maybe...after confirming that he couldn’t resonate with you, he finally lost his patience and interest..At least you’d be able to move freely now but that didn’t make you too happy since as everyone said, this place is unfamiliar to you.

“Would you like to buy a flower, Miss?” You jump at the sudden voice and you turn to look around before looking down at a child. She had dirty brown, possibly blonde hair and she was entirely adorable. She appears to be about eight or nine years old. “No thank you, sweetheart.” You place your hands on your knees as you talk to you. “Would…you like a gun, bullets, or a protocore then? I have them all.” She says, as if this is a normal thing for an eight or nine year old to say.

You sigh, crouching down next to her and tap her basket before you pull out some money. “How much for a flower?” “Mmh…” She looks you up and down before smiling, “Five dollars?” You let out a small laugh, giving her ten as you take a forget-me-not flower from her, a flower meaning true love and memories. You tuck it behind your ear before you smile, “Hey, do you know where I can buy some intel, sweetie?” “That’s easy! Follow me.” She rushes you to stand up, hooking her index finger with your pinky.

Two sets of footsteps echo across the empty street. Meanwhile, you can hear the sound of flapping wings in the distance. You look up at the sky in curiosity but all you see is nothing except dark clouds that obscure the moonlight.

I hope you enjoy the slight changes that I did, like having the reader actually buy a flower instead of just going for information. I think, in that situation, I would've done the same thing. I would've bought a flower and then asked for some information, because if the poor kid is out selling flowers or guns on the street, she probably needs the money. Not to mention, I'd rather buy a flower from a kid rather than money.

I also feel the need to continously apologize over the fact that I'm god awful at writing combat focused scenes, but I feel like it gets better as the story goes on. I just decide to skip the combat most of the time and faintly describe it. Anyway, chapters eleven and twelve will be out next weekend since I'm slowing down how many I post at once!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora, @yoongi-tunes, @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[dudadragneel]

Hey guys it's me!

How are you?

I'm back with another original of mine!

I hope you'll enjoy!

And stay tuned! There's a really long fic coming up soon 👀

Spending the night in the bathroom because he got food poisoning

KEEPING HIM COMPANY

Goddamn these hectic schedules and how they affected the members' health.

They were on vacation, finally, and Chan, like always, would spend time with you and then would take you to Australia to stay with his family.

So far the perfect planning for a much-awaited vacation. But things went wrong on day one.

You decided to spend part of the day out and eat lunch at a newly-opened restaurant.

Good decision?

It would later be proved to not have been.

The food tasted delicious and it was quite the generous serving and you both knew the boys would love it if they were there.

You two talked about what you'd like to do while he was in vacation, like dates, romantic nights, trips etc.

Everything was going well, until it wasn't.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Chan was feeling under the weather, which was weird because he was feeling perfectly fine a few hours before.

He had cold sweats and his stomach was churning and gurgling loudly. It was burning and it felt heavy. Yes, he did eat a lot, but it was a different kind of heavy, he felt bloated. Not only felt, it was quite visible.

You were lying down on the bed, watching some series and you noticed Chan was restless, he kept moving and even hissing from time to time.

- Love? Are you okay?

- Yeah...it's just my stomach...it feels weird.

- Weird how?

- I don't know, maybe indigestion? It's kind of burning.

- Well, you ate a lot so it could be. I can make you some tea or do you want some medicine?

- I'm not sure medication is a good idea right now. I'll take the tea.

- Okay.

You left the bedroom to get him some tea to help with the burning sensation in his stomach and hopefully help it digest the food.

When you got back, Chan was curled up, looking like a baby kangaroo.

- Hey~ here's the tea. I didn't add any sugar so it might be a little bitter.

- Thanks... ugh- yeah, that's definitely bitter.

He added, making a disgusted face, earning a laugh from you and then smiling at you fondly.

The tea helped a little, at least in the beginning.

But what was going on inside his body was worse than just indigestion and he'd find that out pretty soon.

⏳

Despite being on vacation you still had one more thing to work on before you were 100% free, so you took you computer to bed and lay down next to Chan with him curling up one more time. Something was making him feel uncomfortable and you knew it wasn't just a simple case of indigestion.

As he was leaning on your shoulder, you started to rub his arm and then stroke his curly hair while he tried his best to focus on you working and ignore the increasing discomfort in his stomach.

He loved to see you so passionate abou your work, just like you did with him, with the countless times you stayed with him in his studio.

But no matter how much he tried, his stomach was in absolute shambles and burning. The awful sensation was growing stronger by the minute and he gave up on trying to deal with it on his own.

- Babe...

- Hmm? What is it?

- Can you rub my stomach? It's hurting really bad...

- Of course, honey. But don't you wanna go to the bathroom?

- No, at least not now.

- Okay, then. Come here.

You put you computer to the side and put another series on TV again while he lay down on your lap.

You started to rub his stomach up and down, and you could feel it rumbling under your touch, as well as how bloated it was.

Chan's expression would turn into one of pain and discomfort every now and then, but he was enjoying the feeling of your hand.

He had one of his hands buried under your thighs because that brought some sort of comfort for him.

But as you kept rubbing his stomach, it let out a loud gurgling noise and Chan unconsciously gripped your thighs and clenched his other hand.

Something was starting to move up inside of him and he could already feel the foul taste in his mouth.

- Honey, can you stop for a while? I'm gonna throw up-

He said covering his mouth to suppress a gag, quickly getting up from the bed and dashing to the bathroom with you following close behind.

He almost didn't make it to the toilet before vomit escaped through his fingers, the lunch he had coming back in disgusting undigested chunks.

- Oh god.

You stood next to him and started rubbing his back which was heaving under your hand, and for some reason felt a little hot.

He kept on retching until more vomit came out, a little thicker this time hurting his throat on the process.

- Oh baby. You're doing good.

You reassured patting his back and kissing the top of his head.

- It feels horrible....

- Do you think it was the food?

- Maybe...we had different dishes-

The sheer mention of food triggered his stomach again, sending more content up.

- There we go, just let it out.

After a few minutes he was left dry heaving and coughing.

- Do you feel any better?

- Not much. It still feels heavy.

- And the nausea?

- It's still here but less annoying.

- That's good enough. Why don't you take a shower? Maybe you'll feel a little better.

- Okay.

- I'll bring you some clothes.

- Thank you.

The shower although good, didn't really help with his situation. The cramps continued, the nausea kept coming and going, exactly like waves. He actually had to bend over the drain a few times but nothing really came up.

He thought that after throwing up he'd feel better but he kept on gagging, so he knew by now this could pretty much be a case of food poisoning.

And he'd soon find out he was right, unfortunately.

Finishing his bath, he was feeling more tired than before and hot, even if he'd just taken a cold shower.

You had gotten the bed ready while he was showering and was waiting for him to join you.

- Did the shower help?

- Not that much... I kept gagging all the time.

- Did you throw up again?

- No, but I'm still nauseous.

- Wanna try some medicine now?

- Yeah.

You gave him a gel capsule of an antiemetic and he gagged when it went down but thankfully it didn't come back up.

He cuddled on you, blanket covering his slightly shivering body and you proceeded to stroke his hair again, playing with it's curls and tracing patterns on his face, noticing it felt a bit hot to the touch.

- Honey, you're a little hot.

- Yeah, I noticed that when I walked out of the shower and I do feel a bit cold, actually.

- Lemme check it. 37.5°C. That's a low grade fever but I don't think it's anything to worry about now. But if it gets higher then you probably got food poisoning.

- I hope not.

- Want something to eat? Soup? Anything?

- I don't know if I can keep anything down but I'm also a bit hungry...

- I'll make something really quick. You don't need to eat everything just a bit okay?

- Okay.

You prepared him some light snacks, which he managed to eat a good amount and it did sit well with his stomach. And then he lay down on your chest again.

You went back to stroking his hair while he gently caressed your thigh and within a few minutes you were both fast asleep.

But the peace didn't last long.

⏳

About 1h30 into the night, Chan broke in cold sweats, his stomach was gurgling again and doing flips, he could feel the contents sloshing around. He tried to change his position but it didn't work.

The nausea he was feeling earlier had gotten really worse and his mouth started salivating. He was shivering which indicated the fever probably got higher.

Something started to creep up his chest and it felt like a burp but when he tried to let it out, he was betrayed by his body as it brought up a little amount of acid liquid. He knew he was gonna throw up sooner rather than later and he didn't want to bother you, so he quietly got out of the bed, suppressing a gag triggered by the sudden movement and locked himself in the bathroom.

⏳

He bent over the toilet but still tried his best to hold it because he knew that the sound would wake you up, and that's the last thing he wanted to do.

Leaving his mouth open, he started off only gagging unproductively and making as little noise as possible.

His body kept rocking back and forth and he was swallowing hard everytime, still trying to prevent himself from throwing up.

But his body really needed to get that out and it didn't matter what he wanted.

His stomach contracted making him gag one more time but he insisted on not vomiting and swallowed it back, but that proved to be a wrong move.

He ended up choking and that triggered a coughing fit which brought out his dinner, splattering in the toilet.

At the moment, he heard you calling out his name.

Shit!

He thought to himself, he knew you were tired and really didn't want to bother you in the middle of the night.

- Babe?

You called sitting up on the bed, taking a few seconds to properly wake up and then you heard a retch and the sound of liquid hitting liquid.

- babe? Are you okay?

You asked with a worried voice getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom.

When you opened the door, Chan was throwing up one more time and you rushed to his side, sitting on the bathtub and started rubbing his back.

- Oh honey...why didn't you call me?

- I didn't want to wake you up.

- Please don't worry about me...

You said, voice sounding concerned with a tiny tone of annoyance.

He coughed up another thick bout that came out of his nose making him choke and gag productively again.

- Oh my dear. That's it, just let it out. You're doing good.

When the next wave came out he ended up swaying forward and you quickly reached out to hold his forehead and noticed it was burning, compared to before.

- Babe, you're running a fever. This is looking like food poisoning.

You said with a worried and sad expression on your face, knowing how the next few hours and days would go by.

- Lemme check it.

You placed the thermometer under his armpit and helped him hold it there.

The numbers were almost alarmingly high, 38.9°C.

- Babe, what else are you feeling?

Chan rested his head on his arm, not really trusting himself to get his face away from the toilet.

- Dizzy, cold, sweating and nauseous.

- From the looks of it, it's definitely food poisoning...

- That's just great...

He said with a sarcastic tone and burying his face in his arm.

- I'll get you some water okay?

He just nodded, gulping down the awful taste in his mouth.

You came back with a bottle of cold water and handed it to him, while sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

He took a few sips and rested his head on his arm again. You kept rubbing his back and stroking his hair, trying to comfort him.

But his stomach protested against those small sips of water and within a few seconds, it came right back up not giving him time to even change his position.

- Oh honey...

You cooed still rubbing his back again and yawning a bit. But oh boy was that a mistake. He loathed the idea that he cut your sleep short and your yawn just added to that.

- Honey, you can go back to bed, I'll be fine.

- No, Babe, I'm okay, don't worry about me.

- But you're tired, please. I want you to rest.

- Chan, I won't be able to rest knowing that you're sick and puking your guts out.

He chuckled at the last sentence but he was still sad that you were denying good hours of sleep to stay with him.

And again, his stomach was just determined to make him suffer and contracted strongly sending up a thick stream of vomit that soiled the entire inner part of the toilet. Neither the sound nor the sight were exactly pleasant.

After he threw up one more time, you knew for sure it would be a long night and Chan wouldn't be out of the bathroom anytime soon. And you wouldn't leave his side, because although he always wanted to deal with things on his own, deep down inside he subconsciously wanted comfort and he always found that when he was with you.

So you considered all the options and decided to camp out in the bathroom.

- Honey, wait here just a moment.

You went back into the bedroom and got a few blankets and pillows and came back, then organized them on the floor so you could make the spot as comfy as possible.

- What are you doing?

He asked with a raspy voice and a tiny smile.

- Well...you've got food poisoning and I don't think you're leaving this bathroom anytime soon and I won't leave you in here alone so..... we'll "sleep" here.

You answered him with a smile and laughing a little bit, trying to lift the mood.

- I'm sorry for making you do this....but thanks.

Chan said leaning on you and closing his eyes, trying to enjoy the moment of peace his stomach allowed him.

- You're welcome, honey.

⏳

The night was indeed long like you predicted with Chan vomiting more times than you could count and only getting enough sleep. His fever kept oscillating and in-between rounds of vomiting you managed to help him take at least two baths.

When morning rose, both of you were completely exhausted and if any of the boys were to show up at your house, they'd probably be scared because you had a complexion just like Samara's.

But by that time, Chan was feeling a little better or at least well enough to stay in the bedroom with a bucket instead of the cold floor of the bathroom.

You made him breakfast, which he managed to keep down until lunch but then it started again, after all it was food poisoning, just one night of continuous vomiting wouldn't do the trick.

After about 4 days, Chan felt like all the life had been sucked out of him but you made sure he ate every single meal that you made him to regain what he'd lost.

And he made sure you were pampered like you deserved after going through so many sleepless nights with him.

[kirain]

I made a seven-day poll asking what everyone wanted me to write for a BG3 short story, but I don't think I have to wait to know "Gale summoning Tara" will win by a landslide. That said, I promise to also write a short for whichever theme comes in second, if people are still interested. In the meantime, I give you Gale summoning Tara!

Partly inspired by @ah-jiing's gorgeous art.

The boy clung to his mother's skirt, hiding behind her, his cheeks stained with tears. Elminster looked at him, then at the state of the house. An unconscious mephit lay withered in the corner, surrounded by scorch marks. The carpet; what was left of it, had taken the brunt of the damage, but the entire living room was trashed beyond repair—and it was perfect. The boy had potential if he could summon such a creature on his own, and with no formal training besides.

"Impressive," Elminster chuckled, scratching his beard. "Most university students struggle to summon mephits. It's not easy to pull them out of Eberron, especially if they don't want to leave."

"Impressive?!" the father yelled, causing the boy to flinch. "This is the fourth time his 'magic' has caused irreparable damage! No more!" He turned to his son, his eyes burning. "I never should've let your mother buy you those fanciful books. Later today, when I get home from work, I'm gathering every single one and tossing them in the ocean!"

The boy gasped, horrified. "No!"

"Don't you 'no' me." He raised his hand, threateningly. "I'm done paying for your mistakes. Every time you ruin something in this house, it costs me a bloody fortune! I ought to—!"

"That's enough, Alexis," the mother said, sternly. "I did far worse when I was in my teens. He's barely eight summers old. He just needs a mentor."

"No, Morena. He needs to stop. He needs a hobby. He needs friends!"

"That's what I was trying to do!" the boy cried. Elminster shifted as the parents fell silent. "I was trying ... I was trying to summon a tressym!"

"Not this again." The father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance, as well as exhaustion. "I already told you, no pets! This house is already in shambles. We don't need an animal to add to it."

"Alexis, you're being unfair. You expect him to stay inside all day, learning about your trade, and then wonder why he doesn't have any friends."

"He doesn't have any friends because the other children around here are scared of him. Have you forgotten what he did to that girl?!"

The boy whimpered, the memory invading his thoughts. Once again, the parents fell silent, the mother giving her husband a disapproving glare. After a moment, she knelt down with a warm smile and ran her thumb across her son's cheek.

"Gale, sweetheart, go to your room for a bit. Can you do that for me?"

The boy hesitated, holding his mother's hand against his face, grateful for the comfort. His eyes twitched, then welled with tears. Elminster watched patiently, taking note of their bond. He could sense the mother's affinity for magic, but the father displayed no such talent. Rather, an obvious aversion to it. The realisation made him scoff. It was always a mystery to him, why one with knowledge of the arcane would settle for the most mundane of partners, but he held his tongue. He was there for one reason, and that reason was breaking down in front of him.

"Gale," the mother repeated. "It's alright, sweetheart." She pulled him into a merciful hug. "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry..." he muttered, melting in her embrace. "I'm sorry, mommy. Please don't take my books away."

"Shh, we're not going to take your books away.

The father lurched forward. "Morena, I just said—!"

"We're not going to take your books away," she snapped. "Now please, go to your room. I'll bring you some lunch come noon."

The boy pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He sniffed quietly, his jaw tense as he tried to compose himself. As he stepped around his mother, he leaned away from his father, but looked up at Elminster with a brief gaze of shame and curiosity. He had no idea who the old man was or why he was there, but he was too upset to ask. Instead, he dashed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Morena, I know you mean well, but you coddle that boy."

"I don't want to hear it, Alexis. He's your son, but you've made absolutely no attempt to share his interests."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to get my eyebrows singed off. I'm not like you. I can't just shield myself from his outbursts."

"They're not 'outbursts'. You act as though he's some kind of delinquent. I've never seen him use magic in a moment of anger, not even when the neighbourhood children push him around. Most of the time his spells are harmless, and you're wrong to focus so heavily on his mistakes."

"You're wrong to brush them aside. Mistakes like these get people killed! The housekeeper damn near pissed herself when she walked in on that ... that thing! I don't think she's coming back!"

"She overreacted. If she hadn't started screaming, the mephit wouldn't have panicked."

"The mephit?! Morena, she had every right to 'overreact'. Most people don't come face to face with fiends everyday!"

"It's not a fiend, Alexis, it's an elemental. Loyal to the one who summoned it." With a grunt, she snapped her fingers, and the motionless creature disappeared in a puff of smoke. "There. I've sent it home. No harm done."

"No harm—?" He stared at the now empty space, then groaned, defeated. "Morena, this is getting out of hand. I can't keep doing this. I-I can't support this. I have to put my foot down. No more books, no more magic."

"It's not a choice, Alexis. I've never seen a child with such keen aptitude for magic. It's like it's in his blood. Either we teach him how to harness it or it'll boil over."

"Don't. Don't even try it. I'm no fool, Morena. He's not a sorcerer. This isn't wild magic. It's not spilling out of him like a sieve. He can stop any time we choose to make him."

Elminster cleared his throat, loudly.

"Oh, yes. Forgive us," Morena sighed. "I had hoped to welcome you under ... merrier circumstances."

"Fear not." He waved his hand, jauntily. "This isn't the first mess I've walked in on when it comes to gifted children, and I doubt it will be the last."

"Gifted?" The father squeaked. "Gifted?!"

"Indeed. You'd admonish your son when you should be praising him. As I said earlier, most university students fail to summon a mephit." He turned his attention to the mother. "Did I hear you rightly? He's only eight?"

"Yes, and only just. By a few weeks."

"Incredible."

"I know," she giggled. "I could hardly believe it when the housekeeper came running to me about a 'winged beast' setting fire to the parlor."

"Have you both lost your senses?!" the father interjected. "Morena, who is this man?"

She caught her breath, pushing her pride for her son aside. "This is Elminster Aumar. Remember? I told you he'd be visiting us today. He wrote to me a tenday ago, asking about Gale. It seems word of our little wizard has reached beyond Waterdeep."

"Do not call him that!" The man hissed. "He's not a wizard, he's a boy. A normal boy. I told you, this ends today. No more books, no more spells, no more fiends or bats or whatever you want to call them. No more magic! He'll be an artisan like me and he'll like it. You just have to stop filling his head with nonsense." He pointed to Elminster. "And you—" He went to speak, his tone harsh, but he paused and collected himself, if only to save face. "I'm sorry you travelled all this way from ... wherever you're from, but I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

"How dare you," Morena whispered, her voice low but laced with fury. "When you married me, you knew this was a possibility. We talked about it. You were fine with it."

"That was before he started tormenting little girls with necromancy!" He let out a long, winded breath. "Morena, this isn't right. You said it yourself, magic like this is beyond a child's comprehension. He shouldn't even be able to—!"

"If I may inquire?" Elminster asked, careful not to incense the father further. "I'm here because I know, better than most, how difficult it can be to raise a Weave-touched child. I can see the strain it's putting on you, and as a neutral party, I can attest you both make valid points. So please, tell me about the necromancy, and let's try to keep a level head. This is about your son, after all. About his future. If you'll accept it, I'm willing to share my expertise."

The parents exchanged glances, then looked away from each other, embarrassed. The father, without a word, walked away and leaned against the wall, his eyes falling to the cinders on the floor. Elminster could tell he was at his wits' end, but he felt very little sympathy. His desire to stifle such beautiful talent, to hold magic in such low regard—it was an affront to Mystra herself.

"He wasn't trying to 'torment' anyone," the mother chimed. "He was just trying to help."

"Tell me what happened."

"There's a girl who lives a few doors down from us. Loria. She had a songbird she kept in her room, but somehow it got out of its cage and flew into a window outside. As I'm sure you can imagine, the impact broke its neck. When Gale found her, she was weeping in the street, holding the poor thing in her hands. He only ... he only wanted to help. To make her feel better."

"Enough," Elminster said, sensing the woman's mouthing distress. "I understand."

"No you don't!" the father barked. "When he brought that thing back, its limbs twisted in every direction, squawking like it was in pain. He wounded that poor girl more than the bird's death ever could have."

"You're overlooking the fact that it was all well intentioned," Morena argued. "And magic like that is practically impossible for a child his age. It's a miracle he managed to reanimated it at all."

"That doesn't excuse it!"

"I didn't say it did! If we just teach him when and where it's acceptable to use magic, as well as how to perfect his skills—"

"Morena!"

"Magic is part of him!" she screeched, clenching her fists. "You need to accept that!"

"I'm afraid she's right," Elminster added. "Gale may not be a sorcerer, but the Weave has called to him. It has plans for him. Mystra has plans for him."

The father paled, his anger waning in an instant. "The goddess?"

"Yes. Taking his books, depriving him of proper study, it won't placate him. Magic flows through him like molten lava, and lava cannot be tamed. I know the toll this has taken on you, but your son is no mere boy. Not anymore."

"Is that so? Then what exactly is he?"

Elminster smiled. "A prodigy."

-----

Gale paced about his room, gripping his hair as his chest heaved. He couldn't figure out where he went wrong. He didn't mispronounce any of the words, and the mephit, though not what he intended to summon, was peaceful until the housekeeper tried to smack it with a broom.

In a fit of emotions, he dropped to the floor and buried his head in his knees, squeezing them tightly. He didn't want to be alone anymore, and he hated his father's cruelty, but maybe he was right. Images of Loria screaming over her bird flashed in his mind, the guilt overwhelming him. First her, then the housekeeper. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he only wanted a friend.

"Why didn't it work?" he sobbed, his nails digging into his trousers. "Is it me? Tressyms only come to the pure of heart, so maybe I'm just not..."

He wept, for a long time. When he lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and heavy, his mouth sore. With a sniffle, he wiped his nose, then looked to his dresser; to the small ornate jar sat on the far corner. Though he felt too numb to stand, he forced himself to his feet and retrieved it, and then he shook it back and forth, rattling the coins inside.

"That was mother's favourite carpet..." He popped the lid and poured the coins onto the dresser. "Not much, but better than nothing, I guess."

With a pained frown, he began separating each coin by value, counting what was there. It was the least he could do, he thought, to make up for his blunder. He truly loved magic, but he never wanted to hurt anyone with it; least of all the people who cared for him the most.

"One hundred and twenty," he said, mournfully. "That carpet ... cost seventeen times that." He gulped, staving off another rush of tears. "So much for our vacation to Neverwinter. Looks like I ruined that, too."

With one swift motion, he swept the coins back into the jar, then moved to take it to his mother, hoping it would make an apt apology. Before reaching the door; however, he gasped, his body freezing. His eyes widened, his back arching as he dropped the jar to the floor.

"Never ... winter?"

A sudden burst of clarity. Of inspiration. He ran to his bookshelf and grabbed a large, leather bestiary from the lineup. As big as his torso, he struggled to lift it, but dragged it to his bed with a determined limp, then dropped it on the mattress.

"That old man said mephits come from Eberron. So maybe ... maybe my spell was too expansive. I need to narrow it down."

For several minutes, he flipped through the pages, tracing the sentences with his finger. Finally, he came across the passage that answered his prayers, and he grinned.

Most tressyms hail from the warm, temperate lands of Faerûn, and are most commonly seen in northern Cormyr, particularly in the village of Eveningstar.

"This is it!"

With renewed vigor, he wrenched up the rug in the middle of his room, revealing a large casting circle painted on the floor; a seven-pointed star surrounded by glyphs. His excitement brimming, he grabbed a quill and wrote 'Neverwinter' in the northern triangle, then tossed it aside and positioned himself in the center. All the mayhem of that morning and the consequences it incurred seemed to fade as he took a deep, calming breath.

"I can do this. I can do this."

Slowly, he clapped his hands together, his mind fixated on what he wanted most. As the magic swirled inside him, ready to serve, his hair stood on end, but not out of fear. Exhilaration. He couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes and chanted the words, "Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

Immediately, the scent of rosewater filled the air, tickling his nose and tongue. It was sweet and welcoming, a sensation he'd grown to crave on an almost daily basis. It made him feel safe. Seen. As streams of azure and violet whirled around him, he lifted his hands above his head and faced the ceiling.

"Ang'alor ko malo fynndo Virr e'etu fem'molij!"

A gust of wind erupted through the room, so powerful it sent several objects flying through the air, but Gale held strong, his arms shaking as a mass of bright colours exploded from his fingertips. His arms shook, the deluge of dancing lights twisting from a shapeless husk into something more familiar. Then, he heard a soft mew in the distance, causing him to gasp. He'd opened a rift, and before long a small feather blew though and brushed against his cheek.

"My word!" a feminine voice echoed. "This is most irregular. Who is—?"

An abrupt and blinding flash, then a weight that nearly brought Gale to his knees. He winced, blinking rapidly to regain his senses—and when he did, his eyes fell upon the face of a cat, which he unknowingly cradled in his arms, her paws pushing against his chest. In that moment, words failed him, his mouth hanging open in a daze.

"I say, who are you?" the creature asked, her ears twitching.

She wasn't angry or frightened, merely confused, but a quick glance around her esoteric surroundings answered in kind. The room was teeming with books, knickknacks, and artefacts that only one type of person would keep, and she knew that type of person well. Stretching her wings, she shuffled in the boy's arms, making herself more comfortable.

"I see. A young wizard, are you?" She peered up at him, her bright eyes studying his face. "Hmm. Very young, it seems. Well then, that explains why you summoned me. You need a firm hand, yes? I'll warn you now, child, I expect you to take your studies seriously. I'll not abide laziness." She pulled back a bit, licking her paw. "And I trust I'll receive a steady intake of fish and pigeons? They're my favourite, I'll have you know. Well, after beholder, but I don't expect you to fetch something so dangerous on my behalf. In fact, I forbid it."

"I..." Gale's brow furrowed, his eyes gleaming.

"My name is Tara, by the bye. Perhaps I should've opened with that. Though you've neglected to tell me your name." She tilted her head, gesturing for a response, but the boy said nothing. "I see I have my work cut out for me. Manners, young man. Manners. So, what should I call you? Mister—?"

"I—I..."

"Yes? Speak clearly, dear. My hearing may be sharp, but mumbles are indecipherable, even for a tressym."

He couldn't contain his smile as he pulled the beast into a tight but careful hug, which was met with the faintest sound of purring.

"I did it!"

[cheschesterpossum]

guys, guys. New CITF lore drop. I changed a few things. I wrote this after eating two spoon of ground coffee.

I've been thinking about the possibility of aliens existing, and this thought crossed my mind. Now the universe is vast, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were other sentient lifeforms existing beside us. But if there's none? That would be quite a disappointment for some people. No other species, no other worldly friend, Humanity is awfully lonely. Someone or maybe multiple out there is going take it upon themselves to create aliens with a goal of creating an equal companion for humans.

I sound a lil insane, but think about it. Humanity done very insane stuff before, why wouldn't this be a possibility?

And yes, im adding this to my little AU. Finally managed to think of a more interesting backstory for this (i think).

↓ lore rambling below the cut

Ah yes, long long ago Humanity was the first to gain sentient. We've done the impossible and rise a top of the food chain. I know damn well a good chunk have dreamed of meeting aliens, learn their culture and technology, their superior mind-

And it's just a little, teeny tiny bit (very) disappointing that we're just... complete alone. We conquered the stars but at the cost of what? It's scary, to find out in the endless space, that us humans stand alone. Hopes of finding a companion for Earth or maybe even a superior species drop.

Almost. If we can't them, how about me we make them? Years upon years of evolutions and advancing, we can't stop just stop here now can we? So a new project of creating Humanity's equal start. In a pocket universe.

.... it is a lot more difficult than we thought.

It took us long enough to actually make one remotely gain consciousness. And it take even more to actually make one competent to thrive on it's own.

Some lead their own demise due to their sheer brute and strength, some far intelligent yet blinded by arrogance that they destroy themselves inside out, some couldn't even last a few hundreds years. Mistakes upon mistakes, fails upon fails.

Sometimes we resolve to man-made deity in hope it would create something that works. And even that would still be left with major issues.

How many failed attempts did God make when creating us?

As the project continue, at some point we would finally, after so so many attempts, manage to create something adequate. And you guess it, Cybertronians.

Admittedly, sentient vehicle robots sound strange. But if it work, it work. Despite being cyber species, they're made with a bit more resemblance toward humans. Reflecting some of our features, the way we walk, the way we talk. They have flaws, but so do we. And my goodness do their technologies feed our nerdiness. This is God creating humans in his image all over again

We should let them grow by themselves. Perhaps is our bias or the closeness we feel toward them, a bit of guidance wouldn't hurt, we can just left them on their own device after we're done? So when saw Cybertron in shambles, we did just that, lending a helping hand. We've been there before after all.

Fast forward, after leaving the pocket universe unsupervised momentarily. We came back to check, yeah... it's mayhem down there. This time Humanity would stand back to watch, and watch, and we got impatient. The Decepticon-Autobot war has been going on nonstop without an end, and we get worried it'd end up in the same result as the past attempts.

Again, we went down there. Maybe they remember us, maybe they don't at all. However we'd stay longer, we'd do more than just interfering; we're making a connection, a bond between two equals.

It been very lonely at the top.

[kowbelll]

Dairy Queen Dream

Word count: 1,030

I'm so sorry that this took me so long to write, but here it finally is! Big thanks to @sleepyminyard for the encouragement! I'm considering making a second part someday, but I'll let you guys decide. Also, if you've seen American Assassin, I used Victor's name and description (kinda) from that movie to help myself visualize better. My sincerest apologies for the slight angst, but I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked into work with a sigh. He was officially an employee of Dairy Queen for a whole week, though it already felt like it had been a year. He thought working at a fast-food establishment would be easy; he was wrong. Training nearly killed him, thanks to that stupid ice cream machine. Maybe it was his clumsiness that made using it such a struggle, but he believed the thing had it out for him. If his Jeep wasn’t in grave shambles and didn’t require every penny he had, he might consider walking away and finding some other job. But alas, Dairy Queen was a necessary evil. 

He supposed it was sort of fun sometimes. He enjoyed discreetly tossing a few bits of candy into his mouth now and then, and talking to the costumers in the drive-thru with the headset made him feel like he was receiving orders from his captain on a spaceship.  

However, he already had six little burns on his poor fingers from the fry oil, and he accidentally exploded another blizzard yesterday – the fourth one thus far. The manager gave him a warning, but they both knew that Beacon Hills’ DQ was quite understaffed. They needed him, or someone like him. Stiles was the only applicant in many months.  

Hearing the bell above the door chime, signaling that another customer was entering, he made his way over to the counter, not paying any attention to what was in front of him. “Welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for y-” Stiles froze as his eyes made contact with hers.  

Just looking at her made his face flush, turning a deep red, and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He had never seen someone with such pure beauty. Every little detail pierced him as his gaze took her in. She was almost overwhelming.  

Her smile at the awkward moment reeled him back in and he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Sorry, uh... How can I help you?” 

As she gave him her order with that euphonious voice, he felt dizzy. And when the blizzard she asked for was the exact same as his favorite (since he was five years old), he almost felt out of breath. He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his face. Stiles was smitten! 

He could see it all, right then and there: the sparkling ring he’d put on her finger, the long white dress she’d wear, the quaint home they’d live in together, the fuzzy puppy they’d adopt. Everything would’ve been perfect. Until he watched painfully as a tall, well-built, Ryan Gosling lookalike wrapped an arm around her waist and began listing his order too.  

A pit formed in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. He knew nothing about the guy, yet he already hated him. He unknowingly blocked out everything he said, too busy with the jealousy that began to spark inside of him.  

He rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. “Um, what was that?” 

An annoyed sigh left the ‘man’ before he recited his order again: the most disgusting concoction Stiles had ever heard. Yep, he definitely hated him.  

Stiles stared at him from around the corner as he made his blizzard, s He was too consumed to notice his hands drifting away from the mixer, causing ice cream to splatter everywhere, including all over him. “Fuck, not again...” he muttered, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in frustration. The only bright side was that it wasn’t her blizzard that exploded.  

That stupid guy had the nerve to look over and laugh, pointing a finger at poor Stiles. “Oh shit! Is it baby’s first day? Do you need a napkin?” he mocked, followed by more obnoxious laughter. 

Holding back because he knew his manager was in his office, Stiles bit his lip. To his surprise, a voice did come through to defend him. 

“Knock it off, Victor. He’s just trying to do his job.” The angel of a girl stepped in front of him and urged him to take a seat in one of the booths. She then looked back at Stiles and gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, which he returned. “I’m really sorry about him.” 

“It’s alright. I’d probably laugh too.” 

“Maybe, but that wasn’t just a laugh...” She lowered her voice as she continued, embarrassed by her boyfriend’s actions, “That was an outburst.” 

Stiles suddenly felt horrible for her. The look on her face showed that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the guilt she clearly felt wasn’t fair. Everything inside of him told him to hop over the counter and save her – run away with her, hug her close, and make her feel safe, loved, and appreciated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and Victor looked like he could knock him out with one good punch. 

“Hey, really, it’s ok. Don’t feel bad on his behalf.” 

Her smile partially returned. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure he gives you a good tip.” 

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” he said, chuckling. 

With that, Stiles quickly wiped up what he could and made a new blizzard for the douchebag, this time without making a massive mess and a fool of himself. Once all of their order was together, he carried the trays to their table, making sure to flip both of the blizzards. He completely ignored Victor’s existence and focused on the beautiful smiling angel instead.  

Walking away was harder than he thought it would be. In the short amount of time since he met her, he somehow grew attached to her. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he knew he felt something strong for her.  

He decided that watching her enjoy a meal with that scum was too much for him to bear, so he went on his lunch break and got some fresh air outside. He hoped that he’d at least see her lovely face one more time before they left, but when he came back inside, they were gone, just a crumpled ten-dollar bill left in their place, and his heart cracked. Stiles had no idea if he’d ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so.  

[pedrointofolklore]

Long story short

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks had passed since your steamy kiss with joel, and you wanted more. sequel to this is me trying.

warnings: smut 18+ mdni, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, joel miller has a big dick, emotional sex, brief mention of sex as currency (as part of reader’s backstory), allusions to depression and suicidal ideation, lots of fluff with a bit of angst, enemies to lovers (they’re in their lover era), extremely soft joel, joel is so disastrously in love, self-loathing due to a guilty conscience, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, ellie era (ellie is only mentioned)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: hey y’all. so part one did way better than i ever expected. thank you to everyone who has supported it. if you haven’t read it i highly recommend you do before reading this. if you have read it: enjoy part two! the title is once again a taylor swift song.

It had been weeks since you kissed Joel.

Neither of you acknowledged it. After the shitstorm that was Kansas City, your focus was making it to Wyoming on foot. Addressing one kiss wasn’t high on the list of priorities.

But you still thought about it. A lot. And it seemed like Joel did too.

Joel Miller wasn’t nice as a rule, but he was good to you. He confided in you, asked for your input, and did what he could to make you feel like your presence was important. Whether or not it was actually important, you just appreciated that he was trying.

And you were trying too. You were doing your best to be present, focus on the positives, and take a breath before sprinting headfirst into danger. Just as Tess would have done.

You couldn’t have predicted that Ellie would end up inspiring you. There was something about her that reminded you of yourself (which was ultimately cause for concern), but she was different in the ways that mattered most. She was funny and resilient and excited about things, even in this vile world she was living in.

You wanted to be more like her.

There was an abandoned, isolated cabin somewhere between Kansas City and Kearney—you weren’t sure exactly where at this point. It was a corroded, rotting structure, with shattered windows and wooden panels threatening to collapse, but it was better than sleeping outside in the middle of nowhere.

There were two beds and a couch inside. Ellie passed out almost immediately after calling dibs on the bed upstairs. The poor girl was exhausted. Meanwhile, Joel laid down on the couch and shut his eyes, pretending to go to sleep. This was clearly an act; he wasn't going to sleep, he was going to keep watch.

You hadn’t slept in a bed since the QZ, and though this bed was old and musty and probably infested with microscopic bed bugs, it somehow felt like the most comfortable thing in the world. This was the first time in so long it didn’t feel like you were in a rush. You could just exist and let your mind wander.

Letting your mind wander was something you typically avoided, but instead of your thoughts leading you down a trail of despondency, they led you to Joel. You pictured him sitting upright on the couch, scanning the area through fractured windows, clutching a shotgun and trying to stay awake. You wondered what he was thinking about.

If you still want it later, you can have it.

That was what he’d said to you. It was such a new feeling; wanting Joel, wanting anything. You thought about the kiss again, and a warm, tingly sensation spread throughout your entire body like ink seeping into wet paper.

It was later, and you still wanted it.

Joel was awake.

This wasn’t new. Joel hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in 20 years, but it had gotten worse lately.

He’d failed everyone in Kansas City, but most of all Ellie. It left him in a constant state of unease, just waiting for something else to go wrong. Even sleeping stressed him out now.

Then, there was you.

As everything around him gradually fell into shambles, it felt like he needed you more everyday. You were good and clever and really the only person in the world who made Joel feel like he could do this, and that terrified him. You were trying so hard, but he still had this paralysing fear of losing you.

Joel hadn’t forgotten what happened, and he hadn’t forgotten what he said.

If you still want it later, you can have it.

He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was referring to. Was it that he’d fuck you if you asked? He would, but he didn't think that was really what he meant.

He also wasn’t sure if you wanted it. Maybe the kiss had been just a random moment of weakness for you. Maybe you woke up the next morning and realised that Joel was the last person in the world you could ever want. The thought gnawed at him; infected him like some faceless monstrosity with razor-sharp teeth.

But if by some chance you wanted it—wanted him—he would give you everything he had. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, and certainly not your admiration, but you deserved to get whatever you wanted out of him. He would let you come to him, and he would do anything you asked if it meant keeping you here.

The sound of your door clicking open jerked Joel from his anxious ruminating. His eyes followed you as you sauntered over to the couch and plonked yourself down next to him, crossing your legs with an air of forced nonchalance.

“What are you doing up?” Joel asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “You’re also up.”

“Just keepin’ watch.”

“We’re indoors in the middle of nowhere, Joel,” you replied. “I think you can sleep for a bit.”

Joel didn’t say anything. He couldn’t get into this with you. He didn’t want to ruin the newfound trust you had in him by letting you know what a mess he was.

“Unless there’s something else keeping you up,” you spoke in a nervous whisper, like you were testing the waters to see if Joel would actually entertain this conversation. 

Of course he would. There were things Joel didn’t want to talk about—anything that had ever happened to him, for example—but the only thing stronger than his propensity to never let anyone in was the urge he had to never deny you.

“Just been worried about you, I guess.” 

Your mouth formed a constrained smile. It didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We talked about this. I’m fine now, Joel.”

“One talk can’t solve everything.” Or one kiss, for that matter.

“I’m not asking you to solve anything,” you replied, your tone becoming heightened. “Worry about the important things, like Ellie and finding your brother and—"

“You are important.”

He felt a rush of anger, but not at you. Never at you. He was angry at himself. Of course you felt unimportant when he’d spent so long making you feel that way. It wasn’t fair that he got to wake up one day and decide to stop being an asshole while you still had to live with the consequences of his assholery.

You sat there not saying anything, and Joel was certain that you were about to walk away from this conversation. The irony wasn’t lost on him; for two people who hated heartfelt discussions, you couldn’t seem to stop finding yourselves in the middle of them.

“Joel…” Your voice came out breathy and desperate. It was completely unexpected. He couldn’t describe the feeling of hearing you say his name like that. All he knew was that he wanted to fall to his knees at your feet.

“What do you need?” Joel asked. He hoped that he already knew the answer.

“I need you.”

He let out a shaky exhale—relieved and nervous all at once. “You have me, sweetheart. You know that."

Being naked on a grotty mattress with a fully-clothed man above you should have been horrifically vulnerable, but you couldn’t muster up any uncertainty with Joel. All you felt was an excited kind of anticipation.

You never expected Joel to be so affectionate, but he held you like you were something worth caring for. He took his time, kissing you slow and undressing you bit by bit until you were bare for him. You felt the same heated intensity you had that night in the woods, but without the crushing sense of urgency.

Your breath hitched when Joel trailed kisses from your chest down past your navel. He stopped at the lowest part of your belly, looking up at you with lustful, imploring eyes. “Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Please…” You already sounded embarrassingly wrecked.

Your body jolted when Joel dragged a finger through your soaked slit, gathering up the obscene amount of wetness that was dripping out of you and spreading it over your aching clit.

Then, without a word, he pushed himself up and off the bed. You looked at him in dismay, about to berate him for teasing, but your voice caught in your throat when he crouched down at the end of the bed and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you forward until your ass was lined up with the edge of the mattress, and your legs were thrown over his shoulders.

The sound that escaped you when Joel sucked your clit into his mouth was borderline feral. You didn’t know you were capable of making a noise like that—something between a pathetic gasp and a wanton moan.

“Oh f—Joel! Feels so good. What the fuck.” You were breathless and shaking and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Ssh, sweetheart,” Joel hushed. You clenched around nothing when his warm breath hit your drenched core. “Need you to be quiet. Can you do that for me, baby?”

He didn’t even wait for you to try and compose yourself before devouring you again. He had a lot of audacity to think he could tell you to be quiet as he tongue-fucked you senseless. And then, like he was trying to get you to scream, he prodded a finger at your entrance and slipped it inside.

“That feel good?” Joel asked, curling his finger as he pumped it into you.

You whined and pulled his hair harder. He let out a low groan and continued flicking his tongue over your clit, and it dawned on you that he wasn’t just doing this to make you feel good—he was doing it because he liked it.

He added another finger, and this time you did scream, but not before clasping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. It was too much now. His mouth and fingers were unrelenting, as if worshipping your cunt was his only purpose on this earth.

“Joel—F-fuck—I think I’m gonna come.”

“You can come, baby. I got you.”

Those three words were all you needed. You came hard, sobbing and writhing and crushing Joel’s head between your thighs as you tried to clamp them shut. He could not have given less of a fuck—he continued his onslaught between your legs until you were twitching with overstimulation and pulling him off by his hair.

You threw an arm over your eyes, trying to catch your breath and recover from that earth-shattering orgasm. You heard the faint clink of a belt, followed by the soft sounds of fabric hitting the floor. You opened your eyes when the mattress dipped, revealing a very naked Joel Miller.

This took you by surprise more than anything else. You never thought that Joel would take his clothes off for you, and you wouldn’t have asked him to—he’d done it of his own volition. He wanted to bare himself to you like you had to him.

Plus, he was hot. You would have been attracted to him no matter what, but he was so undeniably sexy. His arms looked like they were carved from marble. He was broad and strong, but still had a wonderfully human softness about him. And his cock. Your mouth salivated at the sight. It was thick and long and beautiful. You wanted to drag your tongue along the vein that ran down his shaft and taste the leaking precum at the tip.

“You done starin’?” Joel asked, blushing at the way you were blatantly ogling him.

You giggled and climbed into his lap, your knees settling on either side of his hips. “Stop being so pretty if you don’t want me to stare.”

Joel let out a genuine, light-hearted laugh—something you’d only witnessed him do a handful of times. You wanted to bottle the sound and keep it forever. “I’m pretty, am I?”

“So pretty.” You leaned forward and kissed him, painfully aware of his hard cock pressed against your inner thigh.

You reached down and wrapped a hand around his length, teasing the slit with your thumb and spreading the dribbling fluid. You pumped him a few times, noticing the way his belly tightened as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re so good, sweetheart," he spoke with a low, sultry tone, "but I really need to fuck you now.”

Joel had you pinned under him in a second, hiking your legs up around his hips while his cock bumped your entrance.

“Ready?” Joel asked.

You nodded eagerly and repeated what you told him earlier, “I need you.”

Joel lined the head of his cock up with your wet heat, stroking it through your folds and teasing your sensitive clit. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on your lips as he finally pushed into you.

The stretch stung even with how wet you were. You dug your nails into his back and tried not to wince, all while Joel planted comforting kisses around your face.

“It’ll feel good in a second, baby,” he whispered against your cheek. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay, Joel,” you assured him. “Don’t stop.”

He paused when he was buried to the hilt, giving you a moment to adjust. You weren’t completely inexperienced, but the sheer size of Joel was a lot to take.

But it wasn't long before the sting started to morph into pleasure. You felt keyed up and desperate and so incredibly full. “You can move now.”

His hands settled on your thighs as he pulled his cock out and slowly pushed it back in. Your walls fluttered around him, spurring him on. He did it again, this time plunging it harder and faster.

You gasped at the feeling, gushing around his cock and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. He set a steady, delicious pace, pounding into you the way you hadn't even known you'd been craving.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. Shit. So good. So fuckin' perfect.”

You moaned at his slurry of praise, angling your hips up so he reached even deeper. You ran a hand over his back and down to his plush ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Joel chuckled fondly and traced affectionate nibbles along your jaw.

It hit you all at once that you had never been this happy before. Having Joel in your arms, buried inside you, giving you everything he could was beyond euphoric. You didn't know if you would ever feel this good again.

And suddenly, he stopped. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Fuck. You were crying. “Nothing. Just don’t stop.”

“I need you to talk to me, sweetheart.” He made a move to pull out, but you panicked and tightened your legs around his waist to hold him there.

“It’s nothing bad. I just can’t believe this is happening,” you told him. Warm, pearly tears leaked from the corners of your eyes, but you smiled in spite of yourself. “It feels so good, and I’m just…really happy it's you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel cooed, kissing your tear-stained temples. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? So fuckin’ sweet. Gonna keep you forever, baby. Don’t worry.”

His mouth caught yours in a kiss that was both fervent and impossibly romantic. He tongue slipped past your lips, licking into your mouth with a tender intensity that had you mewling.

Joel resumed thrusting into you. His pace was slower, but his cock was hitting deeper. The warmth in your belly was quickly turning into a burning fire—a fire you wanted to keep on raging.

You were so close, and you knew Joel would never come before you did, but you were determined to hold out; to hold onto this rapturous intimacy as long as you could.

“It’s okay,” Joel said, as if he was reading your mind. “You’re okay.”

You couldn't stop it. Your walls tightened like a vice. You arched and trembled and clawed at Joel, muttering broken curses as he fucked you through your orgasm.

His hips faltered, his thrusts lost their rhythm, and you knew he was about to come. He probably needed to pull out. You probably needed to tell him to. But he just kept plunging his cock into you, and you kept letting him. His eyes were dark and pleading—he was begging you to let this happen.

You wanted him to do it. “Please, Joel.”

He growled a deep, rumbling ‘fuuuuck,' cock twitching and painting your walls with thick ropes of come.

He let out a contented sigh once he recovered and collapsed on top of you, burying his head in the crook of your neck while your fingers sifted through his damp hair. 

This would be over soon. Before Joel could give in to his exhaustion and fall asleep on top of you, he would remember where he was: in a decaying cabin at the end of the world with two people who needed him. Soon enough, he would stand up, dress himself, and go back to keeping watch.

You wished you could have this with him all the time. You wished you could fall asleep with him, wake up with him, and spend your days together with some semblance of peace. You didn’t want much, but you wanted that.

“Was that your first time?”

The thought only occurred to Joel when everything was said and done and he was cleaning you up. It made sense—you were young when the outbreak happened, you’d been relatively alone until you met him and Tess, and he could tell by the way your body reacted to him that it wasn’t used to such an intrusion.

“No, but it felt like it,” you replied. “It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to.”

Joel’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His mouth went dry, his jaw clicked the way it did when he was enraged, and he felt just about ready to kill someone.

“Not like that, Joel,” you said quickly. “I agreed to it. It was...I didn’t have anything else to trade.”

Joel was destroyed, but it wasn’t even a shocking revelation. He didn’t judge you for it—he’d turned to a lot worse in the name of survival—it just made him feel sick that you were ever in that position. You deserved to be cherished and taken care of, not used and discarded.

“Do you still do that?” He almost wanted to ask if you’d ever done it for his or Tess’s benefit, but he feared the answer would crush him.

“No. Not for years,” you replied. “It wasn’t that bad, honestly. It was only a couple of times.”

That’s still bad.

Joel held you close, stroking your hair and kissing your lovely face. Maybe it was because you had told him all of that while you were both still naked, but he felt like he needed to remind you that he adored your body, as well as the soul it carried.

He also felt like he needed to apologise. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“What for?”

“Just…everything. I hate the way I treated you.”

“I already forgave you, Joel.”

Your words should have been a relief, but they felt like a hot knife piercing right into his chest. “Why?”

“You apologised, and you changed.”

“And that’s enough?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I hurt you. I made you feel like you shouldn’t be here.” His throat ached as he swallowed down the emotion rising in him. He didn't want to sound as devastated as he felt, because he knew you would comfort him if he did, and this wasn’t about him.

��You didn’t make me feel like that, Joel,” you spoke with gentle reassurance. “I felt that way for a long time. Before I met you.”

“Okay, but I didn’t help.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s over now. I don’t want to keep harping on it.”

“What do you want?” Joel asked. It was a heavy question, and one you hadn’t considered in so long—he knew that because he hadn’t either.

You snuggled into him, so cute and cosy it made him ache. “Just this. Can we have this?”

Truthfully, Joel was terrified, and he knew it wasn’t going to stop. He used to think that having you close like this would make it harder, but there was a strange sense of relief in having this with you. He didn’t have to worry from afar anymore. He could hold onto you, and look after you. He had you right there with him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Joel laid with you until you fell asleep. He wanted to stay like that all night, sleeping with you curled up in his arms. He hoped that one day he would get to.

Right now, he needed to keep watch.

a/n: im so awkward about writing smut so if that came across while reading pls forgive me. im overall pretty happy with how this turned out. i might write some drabbles about this relationship down the road, but im leaving these two here for now. thanks for reading! p.s. in order to stay true to part one, im sick again posting this. (why do i keep getting sick??)

[captainmalewriter]

Mishap

It all happened so quickly. One moment, esteemed professor Dr. Brown was on the cusp of hitting a breakthrough in his academic paranormal research. The next moment, Dr. Brown was hiding in a cabinet while an angry spirit ran loose inside his lab.

Dr. Brown held his hand against his mouth in an effort to stifle his breathing. The spirit was going on a rampage in his lab. He could hear the sounds of glass breaking and heavy machinery getting knocked over. Dr. Brown forced himself to swallow a breath. He could feel his heartbeat growing louder with every second spent inside the metal cabinet.

This isn't supposed to be happening... Not to me! Geniuses don't make mistakes!

Dr. Brown thought to himself. Having a PhD at the young age of 26 put him a cut above the rest. But unfortunately, the accolades and fame got to his head. He became cocky, and it showed in his work. Brown had been attempting to summon a creature from beyond our world for quite some time now. While he had accomplished his goal, he did it with reckless abandon. Now he was suffering the consequences of his carelessness.

Dr. Brown pressed his ear against the cabinet door. A cold chill ran down his spine as he heard the spirit let out a loud ghastly moan. Dr. Brown shuddered within the confines of the cabinet. He swallowed his breath again. He continued listening, and his ears perked up when he heard the sound of the lab doors opening. Dr. Brown waited a minute, and once he was sure the coast was clear, he proceeded to step out of the cabinet. First he peeked his head out, then left the cabinet altogether. He gasped at the sight of his prized lab in shambles after the spirit rampaged. But he knew there were more pressing matters at hand. He needed to stop the wild spirit before the general public could find out.

Dr. Brown hurried to the double doors, but just as he was about to exit the lab, he could hear the spirit's blood curdling scream getting closer again. The spirit was fast. By the time the sound registered in Dr. Brown's mind, the spirit had already slammed through the double doors and into Dr. Brown.

The force of the impact sent him flying. Dr. Brown landed harshly onto his back. The pain from the landing was unbearable, but he knew he needed to persevere. But unfortunately for Dr. Brown, the spirit was already on top of him. Using its psychic energy, the spirit lifted Dr. Brown up from the ground and stripped him of his clothes. Dr. Brown tried to fight back, but the pressure the spirit was exerting on his body was too much. Dr. Brown could only whimper as he was floating naked midair.

He could see the spirit up close now. The sight of its distorted face terrified him. Luckily for Dr. Brown, he didn't need to look at it for long as the spirit began forcing its way into Dr. Brown. Using his mouth, nose, ears, dick slit, and asshole, Dr. Brown was being penetrated in every hole his body possessed. The spirit was quickly filling up his body, and all Dr. Brown could do was gag and moan in pleasure as the spirit invaded his body. It only took a few seconds for the spirit to finish the job. Dr. Brown's body lowered to the ground. His possessed body began to wiggle on the ground as the spirit made itself comfortable in its new fleshie vessel.

"Dr. Brown!!" a man rushed into the lab. He was taken aback by the sight of his naked superior on the ground, squirming and groaning in an erotic way. The man wanted to look away, but his fantasy of finally seeing Dr. Brown naked had come true. He couldn't help but watch. "Dr. Brown? Are you alright?"

Dr. Brown's eyes snapped open. An eerie smile spread across his face as the spirit took full control over his body.

"Never been better... In fact, why don't you come over here and make Daddy feel even better? I can't wait to feel what it's like to get fucked again..."

The ghost winked at the man, and the man proceeded to fuck Dr. Brown, not knowing what had just happened in the lab only moments prior.

[prismatica-the-strange]

The End of the World as We Know It | I Feel Fine

Warnings: 18+, smoking, alcohol mention

Just a little dip into their dynamic before they get together

Daryl doesn't quite get that Loveday's autistic yet, but he'll come around.

Word Count: 1,687

It's The End of the World as We Know It by The Suicide Machines | Banner by @saradika-graphics

"Where d'ya think yer goin'?" Daryl says when one of the prisons newest inhabitants drops her bag next to his bike.

"With you."

"The hell you are, girlie," He argues, "I don't need your help, it's an easy run."

"Oh, I'm sorry," She pouts, "I didn't mean to give you the impression I cared."

She pulls on her backpack, securing her fire-axe in it before motioning to his bike with her chin, "Now we gonna go or you gonna waste an hour fightin' me before hand?"

He rolls his eyes, swings his leg over the seat, and waits for her to climb on behind him, tensing when she wraps her arms around his middle.

It's a decent ride to the drug store, but she welcomes the air rushing around them, a balm to the killer Georgia heat.

"So why'd you wanna tag along, anyway?" He asks as they come to a stop and both of them get off the bike.

"Felt like window shopping," She grins over at him, rolling the sleeves of her plaid button-up past her elbows. She shakes her head when he scowls at her, "The old man was concerned about you goin' out on your own, asked me t'go with ya."

"'Course," He scoffs, shrugging his crossbow off his shoulder.

"You surprised you got people that care about you, Dixon?" She teases. He watches her pull her axe out and lean it back over her right shoulder, "I wouldn't be. Not with a tight knit group like yours."

His eyes trail after her as she walks toward the store's window.

She and her friends showed up at the prison about three months ago, and from day one, Daryl couldn't fucking stand her.

She's capable, that much he knew right off the bat, with plenty of useful skills, but she has some weird hang ups and mannerism that drive him crazy, and not in a good way.

Always humming to herself, can't sit still, can't stand touching anything sticky, can't skin anything she kills, and is always wearing that stupid bright blue beanie.

Course, as time goes on he starts to appreciate other little aspects of her. She never gets up before 10am, but she's also the first to volunteer for night watch, and will usually go two shifts, staying awake deep into the night without complaint.

Then there's food. Now Loveday's a big girl, and she'll agree with you if you say it, but he's noticed she's always the last to meals, taking whatevers left, even if it's less than her fair share.

He still can't stop himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance whenever he hears her laughing from across camp, or when she tucks Wildflowers in the rim of her hat, or even when she flashes that perfect fucking smile his way after some sarcastic quip.

"Hol' up," He yanks her hand away from the door when she goes to open it, "Gotta lure 'em out first."

"I'm aware," She says, brow furrowed, "That's what I was doing."

She pulls her hand away and jerks the door open, the bell above the it jingling. The sound is muffled when she slams it shut again, and they hear a few walkers shuffle toward them inside.

"You want first crack?"

He just glances at her and she chuckles.

"Alright," She opens the door again, kicking it open wide behind her for him. She brings her axe down hard, splitting the first walker's head in two, then swings it around, cleaving off the top of the other's.

"You plan on helpin' me here?" She asks over her shoulder when two more shamble out of the back. When she raises her arms to swing again the bottom of her button-up lifts up, showing off the skin of her back and his eyes flick up to see the muscles in her forearms flexing.

"Daryl!" She hisses when the blade catches in the walker's skull and she struggles to pull it out, "Get your damn head out yer ass and help me!"

He quickly shoots the last one as she kicks the one stuck on he weapon back, finally getting it free.

His eyebrows raise when she spins around to face him, she looks pissed.

"Next time you decide to stand around and watch the show, you better pay in advance!" She spits, "I shouldn't have to snap you out of a wet dream when you're supposed to have my back! For fuck's sake!"

The side of his lips quirk into the slightest smile, and he nods with a small hum of acknowledgment before pushing past her.

She flounders there for a moment then grits her teeth and follows, tightly gripping her ax.

They take some time picking through whatever bottles of meds are left on the shelves, then wander the isles.

"Found a couple cans of soda," He calls out to her, "Not enough to bring back... you want one?"

"What kind?"

He walks around the end of an isle to find her poking through a spinning rack of key chains.

"Here," He tosses her a can and she grins when she catches it.

"Shit, I haven't had'a grape Crush since I was a kid, thanks," She wipes the top off with the bottom of her shirt and cracks it open, cursing when it foams over, soaking her glove, and part of her pant leg, "Son of a bitch!"

She sets it on the shelf next to her and peels her gloves off, shaking the excess off her fingers, and looking around helplessly for something clean to wipe them on.

"Here," He finds a pack of wet wipes on one of the shelves and hands her one, not wanting to deal with her freaking out over it.

"Thanks," She mutters again, taking the whole package.

He watches her get off as much sugar as she can before looking at the rack she'd been searching. It's covered in little Georgia license plates with peoples names.

"They never have mine," She sighs and he chuckles, glancing over to see her wiping down the can.

"Parents didn't think 'bout that, huh?"

"Not really," She chews her bottom lip with a smile and takes a sip of the soda, making a face at the sweetness, "We should probably get headed soon."

He grunts in agreement, taking one of the plates with Carl's name on it and puts it in his pocket.

"I'mma do one last sweep, just in case we missed somethin' good."

She takes another swig from the can and leaves on the shelf next to him.

"You done with that?"

"Too sweet," She shrugs, "Always been more of a seltzer girl... did we ever check the back?"

"Nah," He finishes what's left in the can and takes hold of his crossbow, letting her lead the way.

The back room is void of walkers and just as picked clean as the rest of the store, save for a couple small boxes.

"Anythin?" He asks from the door as she rifles through.

"Box full'a nips," She calls back, "Fireball, Jack Daniels, Crown, Morgan... whole damn minibar!"

He can't help but smile to himself at her excitement, hearing her dump the box into her bag.

"Anythin' useful?" He snickers and she scoffs.

"... Nah I'm not seein' it."

"Seein' what?" He asks.

"The cure to that stick up yer ass," She answers, playfulness evident in her voice.

"Very funny," He rolls his eyes again and grabs her bag when she zips it closed, slinging it over his shoulder, "You can find yer own way back."

"Uh-huh."

She follows him out through the storefront, pausing when she sees something on the counter.

The pack on the counter is empty, but she takes a minute to check around behind it, and Daryl pokes his head back in, "What're'ya doin'?"

"Lookin' for somethin'," She says, not looking up at him.

"Thought we were goin'," He leans on the counter, watching her rummage. There's a display of Zippos next to him and he picks up an iridescent one engraved with a cannabis leaf, not his style, but he slips it in his back pocket when she looks up at him.

"Know if anyone uses dip?"

"No idea."

"What about these?" She stands up, smirk spread across her face as she holds two packs of Marlboros in her hand, "Wouldn't happen to know anyone who smokes, would'ya?"

"Gi'me those," He swipes them from her and grabs another lighter from the stand.

He hears her hop the counter when he starts back for the door, opening the carton as he pushes outside.

She leans against the door as she watches him light up.

His eyebrows raise when she plucks it from between his lips and takes a drag.

"Didn't know you smoked."

"Cigarettes ain't exactly my vice of choice, but they'll do."

He nods and goes to take it back but she pulls back out of his reach.

He watches her carefully as she takes another drag then lifts it up to his lips.

He suddenly grabs her wrist when she moves to pull it away again, her eyes going wide at the action. His fingers brushing against hers when he takes it back.

She pulls away, cheeks dusted pink as she clears her throat.

"What I wouldn't do for some weed," She mumbles, refusing to meet his eyes.

"That makes sense," He chuckles. He takes one last puff before dropping the cigarette on the ground and grinding it with the toe of his boot, "You ready?"

"Yeah."

She takes her bag back and secures her axe again. Her blush only deepens when he gets on his bike and offers her a hand, not even looking at her.

"Put that thing away," She tries to brush it off as a joke, gently swatting his hand, as she swings her leg over and settles behind him, "I don't need your help gettin' on'a bike."

"'S gonna get dark soon," He comments, "Gonna have'ta drive faster if we wanna get there 'fore sunset. Hold on tight, yea?"

"Or don't," He shrugs teasingly, "Don't really care if yer ass falls off."

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Whumptober snippet

we’re still several days off from Whumptober, but i thought i would post some snippets occasionally to tide y’all over. this is what y’all are in store for!

this is from day one!

—————

Perrine had a nightmare about freezing to death once.

It was the first winter with the Lark as a group, and she didn’t know if they, a bunch of very young children without adult supervision, could survive on their own.

In the nightmare, there was a blizzard raging outside, making it impossible to get more firewood. Of course, there was no need to get more, as they had stocked up generously the day before.

However, they went through the firewood surprisingly quickly, and soon, there were only a few logs left.

Panic began to set in.

Clémentine said they would brave the wind and snow outside and go get more firewood from the pile they kept in the small shed just off of the side of their cottage. While they were gone, Perrine, Cole, and Kingsley started to hack up any piece of wooden furniture they could- chairs, tables, shelves, even parts of their couch. They tossed it all into the fire, watching it burn, but they were still rapidly running out of fuel, and it was only getting colder. Worst of all, Clémentine had yet to return.

It had been thirty minutes.

Perrine told Cole and Kingsley that she would go find Clémentine, so she suited up in her thickest furs and stepped out into the white abyss waiting outside their door. With one hand on the house to keep it in sight, she began to slowly trudge around its perimeter. She was soon facing the direction of the shed, though she could not see it, even though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet away. It took all of her courage to pull her hand away from the house and fully embrace the whirlwind.

She found the shed with surprising ease. Or, more accurately, it found her, as she bumped right into it. Regardless, she had reached her destination with only minimal difficulty, and she peeked inside.

Clémentine was nowhere in sight.

She saw the collection of firewood, chopped by herself the day before, dusted in frost. And she saw the shuffled footsteps in the snow, a telltale sign of someone having been here. But she didn’t see Clémentine.

“Clém?” Perrine had called out, but her voice was quickly swallowed up by the storm. Even still, she tried again, “Clémentine?”

No response, aside from the howling of the wind.

Perrine was worried. Where was Clémentine? Were they okay? She was starting to panic, but she pulled on the reins of her composure and chomped down on the bit, choking back her rising anxiety. She needed to stay calm.

Maybe Clémentine had already gone back to the cabin. Maybe they just missed each other; it wouldn’t be surprising in how limited the visibility was.

Perrine collected as many logs as she could carry and started back toward the cottage. For a terrifying moment, she thought she had gone in the wrong direction, but then the wooden walls swam up through the pelting sheets of white. Home.

She shambled her away to the front door and heaved it open against the wind. Scrambling, she hurried inside.

It was dark. The air was cold and silent. Her own breath formed a cloud in front of her face, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. She was back inside, she was safe, they were safe.

And yet…she was cold.

The logs in her arms fell from her grasp, clattering to the floor. She began to look around, desperate. Her mind was foggy, and she didn’t know why. Anxiety, she thought. That was all.

It wasn’t difficult to locate her friends.

Cole and Kingsley were huddled together in front of the hearth, but it wasn’t their own desperate need for warmth that had them pressed so close, rather the frost that had accumulated over their bodies, freezing them together in their final moments and making it impossible for them to pull away, lest they tear the skin of the other with them. Their flesh was faded to a horrible blue color, rime clinging to their hair, and their faces… Oh, their faces…

Cole had their eyes screwed shut, tears still frozen on their cheeks as they had been sobbing until their last breath. Kingsley’s eyes, on the other hand, were impossibly wide, glued to the front door, like he was waiting for her to come back.

The fire was burned out into embers. Dead, just like Kingsley and Cole.

Perrine was in shock. How did this happen? Had she really been out in the storm for that long?

She tried to rouse them, but it was futile. They were long gone.

Strangely, she didn’t remember crying. She wasn’t sure why. But she did, vividly, remember the terror.

The cold was coming for her next.

Putting the corpses of her friends out of her mind, Perrine scrambled to start a new fire, but she couldn’t feel her hands. Her fingers fumbled clumsily, unable to grasp the match no matter how many times she tried.

Perrine slumped back, panting. She felt so tired…

She thought about Clémentine. They weren’t here, so they must have been outside somewhere still, most likely lost. She liked to think that they were rescued or found by someone, brought into a nice house and given some hot tea, but that was just wishful thinking. They were probably dead. Just like Kingsley and Cole. Just like she would be.

Perrine died, alone and afraid, and it was only after having to sit through and feel the slow torture of freezing that she finally woke up in a cold sweat.

Living life is a lot like playing dominos. Each new day is a new domino set up. And at any moment, any one of those dominos could fall, causing an unstoppable chain reaction until there were no more dominos to tip over. The end of the line. The end of a life.

For Perrine, her first domino fell exactly one year later.