#Idv imagine

[uunromanticized]

luca balsa with a hard of hearing s/o

repost!

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʀᴜᴇ

- luca would most definitely understand! he has minor hearing issues himself, due to the amount of time he’s spent on his inventions (work is LOUD) and especially in prison, where he had to deal with screaming and shouting constantly

- he usually has a ringing in his ears and has more trouble hearing out of his left ear

- he will try to make things easier for you as best as he can! sometimes he’ll write things down for you whenever he’s able! one time, in leos memory he didn’t have paper on him so he wrote in the snow instead (yes, his hands were cold after)

- some of the others will likely get frustrated with you due to them either having to repeat things multiple times or write them down, in which case he will defend you and keep things from getting too out of hand (unless they’re being especially rude, in which case he will punch someone in the nose)

- to keep the others from having to repeat themselves, whenever he’s with you, he’ll repeat it back to you just in case

- sometimes it may get overwhelming and you may have to tell him that he’s doing a bit too much, in which case he would be a little hurt, but he would understand!

- he will listen, he’ll wait for you to ask him if you need it

- he won’t stop writing his words down for you though

- he’d try to make an invention to help you! similar to a hearing aid, he’d try to surprise you with it, but that’d backfire because he’d need you in order to make sure it actually works right

- aside from trying to make things easier for you, he wouldn’t treat you any differently!

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.

[oletuswriter]

੭⠀HOW THEY ACT IN A MATCH WITH YOU.

⋆⠀Featuring: Norton Campbell 'Prospector', Luchino Diruse 'Professor'.

⋆⠀I personally like to write about the lore universe, but please accept this humble blurb as my debut. :')

୨୧⠀⠀NORTON CAMPBELL,⠀Prospector.

If you’re already close enough, I’m sorry, but he’s paranoid. From the moment you sit next to him at the table before the match, your free will is no longer yours. Norton will, without a doubt, defend you from start to finish and do everything in his power to ensure that the two of you leave through the gate or the dungeon—not flying through the skies.

It’s a bit overwhelming how he refuses to let you out of his sight. You’re not allowed to kite, retreat, or even check when you hear a noise. You’ll stay put, decoding, and if the hunter shows up, tough luck for them. They’ll definitely end up running into a wall before they even touch you.

୨୧⠀⠀LUCHINO DIRUSE,⠀Professor.

He’s a demon in your life. Yes, most of the time he helps you and always prioritizes you—which causes some disagreements with the other teammates when he ignores them and ruins a win just to assist you. But that doesn’t mean he’s exactly... normal as a partner.

While others would prefer their partners to stay safe and not get selected for matches, Luchino is the opposite. He’s the first to hope you’re called too whenever he’s forced into a match because you make it fun. He loves catching you off guard, whether you're distracted or focused on a cipher, sneaking up on tiptoes just to scare you, or pulling you into a locker to watch you squirm over how close the two of you end up.

[pddngchi-artblog]

late halloween sketch ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ just wanted to draw skully with soulcatcher and ghost candle. He’s revisiting old friends from October City!

[sleepy-fiction]

Please Madame!

Weeping Clown x Fem!Reader

syn: Pegging Weeping Clown like it's his last day on earth.

tags: pegging, dom!reader, sub!weepy, pure fucking + a lil sprinkle of romance, no plot, barely beta read

a/n: I've always loved this man since release. And his voice was so nice to hear... i finished the story and was like aw thats so sad- OK time to write him getting pegged. one day I'll have to tell my partner about this account uhh... uhhhh erre uhhmmm

"F-fuu- Agh! Madam," Weepy cries his prosthetic fingers gripping the sheets, his face beat red beneath half wipped face paint, a color matching his blushed ass. He was bent down on his knees on the bed, ass perked, perfectly in line with your strap as you pegged him.

His moans were high and raspy, loud and thrilled. He shivered with delight, as his aching, reddened cockhead leaked dribbles of slick. His cheeks were a bruised red as you squeezed and smacked them, each time earning a deliciously sweet whimper.

"Mmh, is it good, sir," you giggled, patronizing.

He squeaked out, "Ah! Ah-ang... Amazing!"

You raised your hand, crashing your palm down against his bruised ass cheek again, watching him jerk out. He cried, his voice shaking the walls of the manor room; you reached and grabbed chunks of his hair. "Guh! Aaa-aa," he trilled, arching viciously into your touch.

In this angle, you fucked him deeper, your fake cockhead rubbing against his spot and digging deep into his gut. "Oo-mm... Fuck. M-Madam," he moaned out long and drawed out, his eyes escaping to the back of his head as he squirted his second orgasm into the sheets.

You dropped his head seconds later, and it fell limply forward, through top of his head grazing the bed as he peered down. You took the opportunity to grab your black paddle, meeting the cold leather to his bruised ass. Weeping jumped in surpise, his head flinging up, while his cock twitched in anticipation. "Madam! A-Are you go-going to whip me... Again," he hushed out, pulling chunks of the bedsheets white-knuckle tight.

"Ooh, changed your mind," you teased, drawing circles into his skin with the leather.

"N-No! I would n-never," he gasped, his own shame and humiliation long fled his body. Before you could respond, he stuttered, "More please, I'll be g-good... I won't jerk away!"

Desire crawled down your body, burrowing itself deep to your already soaked cunny. A shudder leaves your lips as you sigh, "Good boy." A crack splits the air as you leave your first mark on him with the paddle, and Weeping calls out intensely, his back arching into you. His body shivered all over as you thrusted a medium pace and rose the paddle once more, cracking it down against his ass.

"Mad-aam," he cries, his voice breaking up into useless sounds, "oncemore-oncemorepleasepleaeeplea--" you crack a stronger hit against him again, and he sparks like fireworks. He shoots forward, launching his face into the sheets, jerking his perky ass off your dildo, leaving it puckering for purchase in the wind.

You grit in annoyance, "Weeping," scolding him with your displeased hush.

Still in a daze, he didn't notice between his drawn-out orgasm, not until you cracked him alert. "Aah!" He squealed.

"You pulled off me again. You naughty clown, I'll really punish you now," you spat.

"Madaam... I'm soorry I'll be good. I'll b-be good," he moaned. You couldn't see it, but on his sweaty sticky face was a dirty smile, a smile as he wiggled his ass in the air.

"There is no next time," You plugged his hole up quick, taking the paddle in your left hand and cracking it against his left cheek. You trusted intensely, paddling him to the beat of your thrusts. His voice spiked out, his back arching off the bed as he shot his head up, his hands shaking against the pressure.

Off his lips came senseless mumbo, as his hair stuck to his scarred face, a face that smeared paint into the sheets before, and left him but nothing but faintest to cover said scars. You'd be lying if you said you didn't orgasm just then, just as his voice hit its limit and turned into a raspy, airy mess.

"A-Amazuh-- Madame," he cried with all his heart as he shot out milky sperm. Sperm that was liquid and slick, barely carrying any semen from all his prior ejaculations.

You slowed down, dropping the paddle and grinding your base against his ass, forcing it deep into his body. He perked, whole body spasming as he buried his head against the sheets. His pants were buttery, the sweat dripping down his body lustfully. This was a much needed cool down for him and for you.

"Madam," he whispered, peaking over his shoulder to gaze into your eyes.

"Yes, clown," you murmured, half listening while you squeezed his ass, panting softly.

"M-May, may we switch... Uh... Positions? I want to l-lay on my back... I don't think I-I can't hold myself up f... For longer," he takes a gulp in-between his words, his gorgeous red hair wet with sweat.

"Alright," you pulled out of him, causing his toes to curl, "You need water?"

He flipped onto his back, his cute wide eyes staring up at you so sweetly, so innocently, "No-mm... 'M okay for now. T-Thank you, mistress," he smiled. You almost felt bad for punishing him.

You grabbed a pillow from above, ordering him to raise his head and sliding it beneath him when he does. He smiles so kindly at you, his hands curled up against his heart. You sigh wistfully and place one last pillow to prop up his ass.

He suddenly squeaked.

You perked, "What?"

"M-My semen is cold against my back-! T-The... The whole spot beneath me is wet," he cried in his comfort, his eyebrows weaving in stress. You giggled, pinning him down and lining up with his hole.

You coo between lidded eyes, "Aw, I almost feel bad for you." He whimpers pitifully. You gaze into his eyes right as you plunge in, soaking up his every feature. That's also when you notice most of his face paint had been wiped off. It was a euphoric treat for you.

Watching as his mouth fell slack, the way his eyebrows knitted, his eyes disappearing behind the clouds. But also, noticing his scarred cheeks, the way the corners of his lip suffered worse scars. How his cleft revealed his flashy, pearly whites. You'd be lying if you said you didn't orgasm again then too.

You gulped, not noticing how you still had been. Long enough for Weeping to wrap his arms around your shoulders, "Mistress," he hums raspy. The sound is quiet, gentle, and almost loving. It snaps you right out of the slow-motion replay.

You gulp, now aware of how your beating heart "Yes, Clown?"

He reaches and nuzzles his forehead and nose against your face, "'M ready now. I-I promise I can tuh... Take more," he whispers. Just as he says so, he leans back into the pillows, his red hair sprawling, a perfect match to his beat red cheeks, wistfully eyes, and caring smile. God. He was fucking beautiful.

You thrusted slow and deep, watching his face twist up in excitement. You gripped his hips tightly, swallowing back the feelings bubbling up. You knew you should have never let him turn around. God.

He cracks another moan, easing his head back, closing his eyes- completely succumbing to your will.

Fuck.

"Weeping," you pant, feeling passion heat in your veins, "your face paint rubbed off."

He gasps suddenly, "N-No! My--" but before he could cover himself with his hands, you slammed downwards, catching his wrist with both hands and leaning forward, your face inches apart. He squeaks and squirms, but you keep yourself there, stating deep into his eyes.

He has nowhere else to look but your intensity, no way to flee from your teasing yet perfect thrusts. His eyes flee behind his eyelids, succumbing once more, his jaw hanging open in his vulnerability. He felt so powerless it felt-- A warm shot of cum splattered against your belly, as you quickly looked down to see his weeping cock, spitting up on itself.

"Ooh, you like this, huh? You like how powerless you are? You like the Madam looking at your pretty face, huh," you teased.

"Yes- yes ma'am," he leans his head away, revealing his gorgeous, lean, pale neck.

He was so lean, tall, so slanky.

You swallowed thickly.

You pulled off his wrists, but he kept his arms there, and you sunk into his neck, nipping and biting down on the milky flesh. His moans rose, spiking, the vibrations striking through his body. You too felt the familar feeling of your pussy clenching, pleasure from purely watching and experiencing this with him, was drawing you near an orgasm.

You panted and grabbed his hips, burying your teeth in his neck for purchase as you thrusted faster and faster. Riding out his high, ans reaching your own euphoria, as he released his last moan, "Oh y-yes! Madame!!"

You came at the same time, dropping your tired body onto his larger, skinnier one, slowly pulling out of him. "G-God," you moaned, feeling how disgustingly ruined your panties had turned.

"Amazing-uh... Mmgh... Madame," he murmured, gently caressing your head.

This was bad.

You were falling for a one night stand.

You only needed to break steam off in this damn manor, not...

You peered up at him, watching him stare down at you so tenderly, "Madam," he hushed it as if he worshiped the name.

Ah.

You were in big trouble now.

[sinisteryanderescribe]

Norton Campbell is the type of boyfriend who initially struggles to find peace at night. He lies on his side, his back turned to you, muscles tense and restless. The shadows in the room seem to mirror the turmoil in his mind, and you can sense the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. It takes time for him to unwind, the silence thick with the echoes of his past.

But as the night deepens, a shift begins. You feel him gradually relax, his breathing becoming steadier. He turns toward you, and you catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before he pulls you in by your waist, guiding you to rest against his chest. The warmth of his body envelops you, and there’s a sense of safety in the way he tugs you closer, as if he’s claiming the moment for both of you.

Once you’re nestled against him, he often lets his hand slide to your thigh, the weight of it grounding him. His fingers linger, tracing soft, deliberate patterns that send shivers up your spine. Sometimes, he’ll slip his hand under the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin, igniting a gentle spark of intimacy. It’s a silent exchange, a way for him to connect with you deeply, feeling your warmth and letting go of the chaos outside.

As he buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent, you can feel the tension in his body fade. He finds solace in your closeness, his breath warm against your neck, and you sense how much he craves this connection. Occasionally, he’ll shift slightly, urging you to lean deeper into him, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you even closer. It’s possessive yet tender, a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished.

When nightmares stir him from sleep, his body tenses again, but your presence acts as an anchor. He instinctively pulls you closer, his hand tightening on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to convey his need for comfort. In those moments, you whisper soothing words, and he leans into your voice, drawing strength from your closeness. Your heartbeat becomes a steady rhythm that calms the storm inside him.

Eventually, he relaxes again, his breath evening out as he drapes his arm protectively around you. In those quiet hours, you’ve created a cocoon of safety where he can finally surrender his burdens, if only for a little while. Being wrapped in his embrace, you know that even through the shadows of his past, he finds light in your presence, a quiet intimacy that binds you both in a world that often feels chaotic.

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

[angelltheninth]

Luchino Diruse Loses Control While You're Giving Him a Blowjob

Pairing: Luchino Diruse x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, reptilian traits, cockworship, boobjob, orgasm encouragement, cum swallowing, a bit of cockwarming, sub!Luchino Diruse

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Okay, yeah the evil reptilian professor got to me. You can't put this skrunkly loser in front of me and expect me not to wannna suck him off. Divider is by @adornedwithlight.

Luchino has been having a very hard time controling his more reptilian traits lately, he's not sure how much longel he'll be able to hold it in

You on the other hand don't want him to hold anything back

The reptilian side of him is till him, still your lover, your mad scientist that stole your heart

So you took it upon yourself to help him calm down... by taking care of his morning wood

By now his cock was already slightly different than a human one, with the slightest scaley ribbed feel against your tongue and breasts

As you wrapped your full lips around the even more sensitive head of his cock he moaned and his hips twitched upwards, his eyes still shut tight

You want him to look at you, to see that you love him, that you lust for him, and you always will

Seems like he needs a bit more encoragement to do that

Enveloping his cock even more with your soft tits you whisper words of praise against him, his too sensitive cockhead leaking cum as your warm breath hits it

Locks eyes with you right as you take him into your mouth again

With a smile you shake your boobs, massaging him while your mouth works on the parts of his cock that are left exposed

The temperature differance has him shaking

He can feel it so much more now, more every day that he becomes less human

Not that it will stop you, if anying it will make you want to keep his cock warm even more often

Perhaps under his desk while he works, you could keep it in your mouth

Or you could let him sleep with his cock balls deep in your warm cunt, so that when he wakes up and he's hard he can fuck you without issue

All your suggestions send tremors through his body that have nothing to do with his now colder blood

You can see his teeth sharpening as he tries to catch his breath

His fingers, now tipped with sharp claws, dig and tear the bed in an effort to keep still while he shoots jets of cum into your mouth, coating it with a taste that is familliar but slightly coolder

Again, you don't mind

You smile at him as you pull away, a white string of cum connecting your lips and his cock before it breaks off

More cum is still flowing and spilling onto your boobs as you massage his cock up and down with them

He's blushing, it's nice to know you can still make parts of him get hot and encourage his blood flow

[ithaquasbbg]

Hii could I request ithawua with a sick s/o?

Hell yeah 😈 as my username suggests, I love some Ithaqua

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Ithaqua | Night Watch with a sick s/o

Pairing : Ithaqua x reader

Tw : none

Notes : meow

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

|❄️| Ithaqua can be quite a mixed bag when it comes to sickness, primarily depending on how badly you’re sick and how he’s doing mentally at the time. Sometimes he can be quite calm about it, while others he can stress himself out about your health to the point of becoming sick himself.

|❄️| He’s really good at taking care of you while you’re sick, mimicking some things his mother did for him when he was young and doing them for you.

|❄️| Ithaqua will make sure you rest. He will keep you from going to your matches and even take the penalties for it if it means you’re able to recover. Hell, if he could keep you from leaving your bed until you were better, he probably would!

|❄️| His heightened amount of concern for you stems from a fear of losing another person close to him. After his mother, he is practically unable to stand the thought of losing you as well. Because of this, you’ll notice things like his hands shaking every so often and the way he doesn’t sleep in order to make sure you’re doing alright throughout the night, even if he’s relatively “calm” about you being sick. A lot of it is subconscious though, and he won’t even realize he had been that concerned about your condition until he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding after you recover.

|❄️| He’s not necessarily the best cook in the world (Ithaqua can make edible food, but it doesn’t really taste delicious), but he will try his hardest to make some of his mothers soups for you and bring them to you so you don’t need to get out of bed.

|❄️| He is quite stubborn about asking for help, but if he does incredibly badly, he’ll swallow his pride (or lack thereof) and enlist another person in the manor to help him make the soup the next time.

|❄️| He wouldn’t want to ask for anyone’s help primarily because of his lack of trust in the others at the manor. If it was truly needed, he would ask for help, but much like how he is when it comes to cooking, he’d be incredibly reluctant to do so.

|❄️| After you recover, he’ll watch over you for a while to make sure you’re feeling alright (he watches over you constantly anyways, but now he at least has an excuse).

.

You look up at Ithaqua as he holds one of his hands to your forehead, noticing a little tremor in it as he pulls away. “You’re still running a fever, (name).” He frowns and gently nudges you to lay back down, much to your displeasure. “I have matches today, Ithaqua, I can’t lay in my bed all day.”

“(Name). I’m not letting you get out of bed while you’re sick.” Ithaqua looks concerned as he looks down at you, it had been three days since you had gotten sick and you had noticed his exhaustion growing due to the fact he hadn���t slept more than an hour since then. “I’ll lay down.” You start, ��but only if you promise to rest as well, you need sleep too.”

He frowns, trying to hold back a scoff at the idea of allowing himself to rest while you were sick, but eventually gets under the covers next to you, resting his head on your chest as a way to listen to your heartbeat. Not long after, you hear light snoring coming from the blonde “Ithaqua?” You nudge him, realizing he had passed out while listening to your heartbeat.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

It’s been SO long since I wrote on here but hi!!!!!!! I chose this prompt because it felt like a good way to get myself back up and running

Also, thank you so much for the support on some of my posts!!

This is INSANE 😭😭 j never thought people would like my writing so much, thank you!!!!

[rosemaze-reveries]

― interlude

norton campbell x you he finds you crying in your room out of anxiety

(this was requested here)

As you slip out of the manor’s ballroom, the sound of lively conversation follows behind you. Voices blend together the further you go, dulled by the winding hallways, and soon you can’t tell them apart anymore. Once in a while a hearty laugh will ring out, shrill and distinct above the rest—a laugh you can usually identify as Demi’s, her self-restraint long lost to copious glasses of wine.

By the time you reach your room upstairs, the chatter is still thrumming through the floorboards. That rhythm is all you can focus on: the pulse of the party, the drum of your heart. You shut your bedroom door behind you before sinking to the floor. All night you’ve felt like an anvil has been weighing down your spirit, and it’s finally snuffed out the last of your strength. With shaking fingers, you clutch your mouth and choke out a staggered gasp, no longer able to stifle your cries.

The manor’s walls are thin, you know that well. Maybe you should feel lucky that the party under your feet will drown out any noise you make. But you still feel the need to make yourself quiet as a ghost, afraid a single sound might hush the entire downstairs into curious silence. As if they’d be climbing over each other to press their ears against the ceiling, eager for a chance to hear the crying guest upstairs. But the party goes on, and your tears go unnoticed.

Time starts to blur in the dim confines of your room. You don’t care to count the minutes, but enough time passes that you rub your nose raw. Before long it starts to feel like you’re teetering on the edge of sleep: swaddled by the pitch-black room, with the neverending song of muffled laughter and clinking glasses as your lullaby. If you shut your eyes long enough, maybe you’ll really fall.

All of a sudden a foreign sound cuts through your haze. Heavy footsteps, like that of a pair of boots. As they drag down the hall your ears prick up, the entirety of your body freezing over. They trudge along slowly, then stop in front of your door.

It’s Norton. He doesn’t announce himself, but he doesn’t have to. You know it’s Norton from his weary gait and the faint whistle in his breath. He pushes open your door without bothering to knock first. It’s clear he’s not expecting anyone to be on the other side of it, because he loudly clicks his tongue when it jams into you, and keeps trying to force it. The wood thuds against your back a few times before he releases the knob with a scoff.

“It’s me,” he says, striking the door twice with the flat of his hand. “Move whatever’s blocking the door.” His knocks feel urgent, but careful. Even when pressed flush against the wood, you don’t feel the jolt of his usual aggression. Still, your eyes squeeze shut. There’s no strength left in you to muster an answer.

Norton himself isn’t what concerns you. It’s having to show him the state you’re in. He’ll have nothing sensitive to say about it, and you’re not in the right mind to brave through that callous indifference of his. Honestly, the thought of addressing anything feels utterly impossible. You’ve been holding your breath ever since his footsteps came trudging down the hall, wishing you could just disappear.

“(Y/N),” he presses.

I’m sorry, you think.

There’s nothing you can offer him that he wouldn’t be able to find at the party. It doesn’t matter what he wants or if you let him in—your answer won’t change from a mortified I can’t help right now, sorry I’m so useless. At least staying in here eliminates the need to say it to his face. He’ll get the memo eventually.

. . .

. . . .

. . . . . .

When you’re certain he’s not fussing with the door anymore, you lean back into it, waiting for the click! of its close. Then you exhale, shallow, shaky, but quiet still. The fresh air tastes sweet in your lungs. It’s your own fault for holding your breath so long, but you’ve never been kind to yourself, especially not in moments like these.

You decide to wait a few seconds before locking it. Every sound you make is another tick on the time bomb, after all. Counting down to what exactly, you wouldn’t know; that’s a detail you’d rather not uncover.

Right when you’ve decided enough time has passed and you fumble for the lock, the door bursts open again. The force catches you off guard, practically sweeping you across the floor, and Norton strides in before you have the chance to push him out again. His eyes lock on you, shadowed by the dark of your room.

It’s an odd, silent reunion. You almost feel like you’re in trouble for something. He doesn’t even greet you before he tears his gaze away, peeking around your bed and bookshelf. Perhaps he thought you’d snuck off with someone.

“N-No one else is in here,” you croak.

“Where are the matches?” he asks, brushing off whatever you were insinuating.

He digs around your drawer until he finds a matchbox, then lights your bedside candle. From your spot curled into your knees, you gaze at his large figure, backlit by the candlelight. You’re still not sure what he came in here for. Though Norton isn’t exactly known for his transparency, not even with you. While he’s occupied at your nightstand, you try to wipe the puffiness from your eyes. It still doesn’t stop the next wave of tears from welling up.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur. He glances over his shoulder, waving out the match.

“For what?”

For crying. For leaving. For shutting him out. But with your words failing you, all you can do is shake your head — ‘forget it’ — and nuzzle deeper into your knees. It’s embarrassing to be the only one who’s ever crying between you two. Norton closes off his heart so stubbornly that you can’t even imagine a tear in his eye. You’re sorry for that, too. For burdening him and not extending the same care in return.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Stillness overtakes the room — with him standing by your bed, watching you; with you buried into yourself, soft sniffles leaking through. Finally you hear him approach. He crouches in front of you, bringing the candlestick holder with him.

“Hey.” His tone of voice always has a biting edge to it, even when he’s trying to be gentle. He takes your hands, guiding them away from your bloodshot eyes. “Stop crying.”

I’m trying.

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

You shake your head again. “I’m okay,” you insist between snivels. “You didn’t have to come up.”

What use is there in saying that? One look at you gives the truth away. Norton would never take the bait that easily. He reaches a hand for your cheek, wetting his thumb as a stray tear falls.

“You’re a lousy liar,” he says. His hand is warm. Rough, but warm. It tempts you to lean into it, to rest in its gentle hold for a little while. But even with him wide open in front of you, your lingering guilt anchors you in place. You meet his brown eyes, the flickering candlelight reflected within them. Come here, they say. You’re sure you’re just imagining it.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Norton makes the decision for you. He scoops you up effortlessly, and as you’re raised into his arms another rush of tears floods through you. At the same time, the heaviness you felt before begins to lift. It’s as if you’ve finally been given permission to cry, no longer weighed down by the shame you felt previously. Or maybe you’re just too relieved to care about that now. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“You never have to ask,” he murmurs to you. It’s a reminder you’ve ignored too many times before. He lays you gently on your bed, and you refuse to unhook your arms from around him. He slots himself beside you. You think you mumble out a reply, but you can’t remember what it was before the cloak of sleep comes over you.

[oletuswriter]

im so embarassed of sending asks but I LOVED YOUR LAST POST. Idk what to say, but could you do character analysis? If you only write as x reader it could be relationship hc or analisys of how they act w reader JUST DO YOUR MAGIC 💗💗💗💗

੭⠀ A deeper look into the relationship.

⋆⠀AUTHOR’S NOTES: I’m not sure if this is exactly what you wanted or which character you had in mind, but here it is! If it’s not quite what you had in mind, feel free to send another ask. By the way, to the people who sent requests,thank you! I’ll be posting soon, I just need a little time to write 🫶🏻

⋆⠀FEATURING: Frederick Kreiburg 'Composer'.

⋆⠀WARNING: This post contain spoilers of Ashes of Memory and Frederick’s backstory.

The room was silent. Frederick stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of moonlight. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I never planned on letting anyone get this close.” His fingers tapped idly against the windowsill, a subtle betrayal of his nerves. “But now… I can’t imagine leaving without you.” He finally turned, his eyes meeting yours. “Tell me you’ll come with me. That this—whatever this is—wasn’t a mistake.”

⋆⠀Frederick grew up carrying more burdens than he could handle. His father’s rejection, combined with his disorder, instilled in him a constant need to distance himself from others to feel “safe.” The disappointment of realizing he didn’t inherit the natural talent that ran in his family’s veins didn’t help either, and his paranoia only worsened over time.

⋆⠀His perception of the people around him is always the same—neutral, if he even cares enough about them to give them any space in his mind. So, when you were introduced, Frederick was polite and brief, treating you just like anyone else who had entered the manor.

⋆⠀His thoughts about you only began to change after you confronted Orpheus for overstepping into matters that were none of his business. At first, Frederick assumed you were just a people pleaser trying to lower his guard. However, later that same day, he overheard you chatting with Alice and Melly once again, telling them about how you were against being so impolite and disrespectful.

⋆⠀The closeness between you two didn’t happen overnight, but small gestures and actions here and there gradually allowed you both to feel at ease in each other’s presence. He listened to you, engaged in normal conversations, and stopped giving short replies just to end the discussion. He even waited for you to arrive at the table before starting to eat. For others, it was surprising to see Frederick interacting without being defensive, though they simply assumed it was a budding friendship.

⋆⠀In the beginning, that’s all it was. Frederick wasn’t exactly thrilled about having someone he could call a friend, but he wasn’t upset about it either. When he realized his feelings were changing, though, he tried to deny them to himself. Yet, seeing how futile that was, he was left with only one option: acceptance.

⋆⠀Being in a relationship with him can be complicated. Even if he trusts you, he’s unlikely to let you know much about his past—unless it directly affects your relationship. The thought of you abandoning him is something he cannot bear, and he is willing to do anything to prevent that, from killing to opening up about some past traumas.

⋆⠀Frederick’s paranoia is no secret. He feels not only jealousy but also a deep-seated anger toward anyone who dares to take your attention away from him. He firmly believes that people have ill intentions when they approach you and wants you to believe that as well. And if you dismiss it? Oh, God, either he’ll manipulate you with tears, or he’ll accuse you of betraying him.

⋆⠀If you ever get upset with him, he’ll send romantic letters, dedicate songs to you, and do things straight out of a romance novel. Part of these actions can be a sincere apology; the rest, although, can also be just an attempt to make you forget whatever mistake he made.

⋆⠀Above all, once you agree to be his partner, Frederick will include you in his plans for life after leaving the manor. Even if he doesn’t fully explain what those plans entail, one thing is certain—leaving you behind is not an option for him.

[spextr1m]

Richard Sterling/"Knight" headcanons

Theres a chance he'll get mischaracterized.

-Since he's a fraud, he usually change his handwriting (both, left or right)

-Would've push someone (Yk the trailer where he pushed his "sister"), I feel like he'll do other methods to silence other people who realized Richard is a fraud (e.g: Poisoning others) (Yes this is Dio Brando reference)

-Richard hates being caught.

-Richard would've take Luca Balsa's severe memory problems an advantage (Luca's brain is fucked up).

-Vera is remorseful while Richard isn't.

-If you confront him why would've he made his sister got pushed down, only he'll say "Not my problem, thats just your problem, problem, problem thats just your problem"

-Richard gives me Oswald vibes from Murder in Alps (murdering his cousin to inherit) if you didn't play Murder in Alps so basically spoilers!!

Oswald killed his cousin Aldo was because of inheritance (Oswlad's mom MARRIED a man something his dad didn't want)

-He smirks when his plan works but grits his teeth when others finding out.

[sleepy-fiction]

Aesop Carl x Victor Grantz NSFW

A series of letters between Aesop and Victor detailing their desire for each other.

tgs: NSFW, ejaculations, dirty talk, oneshot, sexting

an: This is incredibly freaky, too freaky. it's a little gross bc both Aesop and Victor cream on one of the letters, but I'm sure none of you would really mind that (yes there are visuals). Enjoy the fic!

>>>>

Dear, Mr. Grantz,

Can you not feel it? My desire for you burns off the pages and beckons you near. Your lovely blond hair, those sweet eyes of yours. Verily, I say, fall for me swiftly. And verily, I profess, my bed will be warm and awaiting you.

Yours truly,

Aesop Carl

the penmanship is pristine, the typical manner Aesop Carl writes; only except a couple 'i's and 't's are not crossed (an unusual manner for Aesop Carl).

Dear, Sir Carl

What has come upon you tonight? Is this about dinner? Surely, I thought you despised me. Your eyes burned me under your ferocious stare, even Miss Lester noticed. But here instead you profess... Strange things. You had too much to drink at dinner tonight...

Tell me. Just tell me.

What do you wish--##//

######// to do##m//

What would you like to do to me?

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz

The penmanship trembles. The letter is messy with sentences scratched out and run over. It was as if Victor rewrote his sentence over and over, too embarrassed to send it at first, but eventually overcoming his fear.

Dear, Mr. Grantz

Mr. Grantz, my loins beg for your company. I will lay you beneath me, running those gloved hands that you adore down your body. I will undress you and smother you bare with my hasty lips. My tongue will become your servant, and my lips will only know your praises.

You do not hate this, do you?

Yours Truly,

Aesop Carl

>>>

Dear, Sir Carl

My. ##/. I was not aware you thought of me like this. Neither was I aware of this side of you.

Dear me. // Sir Carl, you. What else. What else will you do to me.

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz

The letter is crinkled, and the handwriting is rushed.

Dearest, Victor Grantz

I will touch you; ignite you erect under the moonlight. I will taste you from your beginnings to your peak. I will introduce myself to your perky bosom and nip them until they stand alert and sore. I will familiarize myself with your walls, and create a map of your insides with my fingers. Sin itself will become my name, and evil are my intentions with you. Even now, I am stiff from writing these things alone. This is utter blasphemy, but you were never religious, were you?

Eternally yours,

Aesop Carl

The words are closer together, written with quick, rough lines. He's passionate, and Victor's aware of this shift.

Dear, Sir Carl

Sir Carl. Sir Carl.

No words can describe what I am feeling. I'm sorry. I.Aesop, I cannot create a good enough response for you.

######///-/##_

###=//me.

I am sorry for these subpar letters. I have an inquiry to make, and I pray that you spare me of your judgment. Mr. Carl, will you put your .

penis inside of me?

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz.

>>>

Dear, Victor Grantz

You amuse me so.

Yes, my dear duckling, I will. I will thrust so deep inside of you until you become undone until your throat has no choice but to voice your squeaks. My filthy penis alone could cure you from your eternal silence; and now knowing this, would you like a taste?

Not a lot of men are aware that they, too, can be pleasured like women. How does my dearest duckling know? Do tell me, Victor, do you play with yourself down there? Tell me how you do it. Tell me how you like to be pleasured.

Eagerly Awaiting,

Aesop Carl

>>>

Dear, Mr. Carl

Aesop, it would be no use to detail my self-pleasurerituals. We cannot see each other. yet. You know the rules. Don't torture me, I have always been faint of heart. I have awoken now, and it's uncomfortable to sit still. My feet long to run to you, and I pray you to do unto me all the manner of things you have written here. Even more than that.

I want to be exasperated beneath you. I cannot restrain myself any longer.

Let me get a taste, cure me of my eternal silence. Take pride that my first words will be your name.

Mr. Carl, I am touching myself.

Victor's penmanship is rushed now, the words are closed together and the strokes are intense. Much like Aesop, he's succumb to his passion. [note: Victor is still mute, they're just talking freaky]

Dear, Victor

You poor little duckling. It's foul manners to not sign off on a letter. Have I riled you too intensely? That you have forgotten your virtue, that you have defiled your very calling as a postman?

You amuse me. Touch yourself slowly, no matter how much you squeal. As you ride your high, speed it up. This is the manner I have been pleasuring myself as I write. I will spill my semen on these pages. Do not think for a moment that I will not.

Dearest Victor. Though this manner confines us, it will not. for long. IWillDevour you.

My d \\\---

uckling.

Eternally Yours,

Aesop Carl

The letter has a single shot of cum laying in the middle of the page. Without even reading it, it's the first thing that's noticeable in Aesop's letter. It was smeared while it was folded soaking up the page around it and leaving an interestingly sticky sensation as it was opened. Aesop's pen seems to swerve off the page, the handwriting jagged and dangerous. But his next word is written back pristine, such as his closing. Victor knew, Aesop reached his climax while writing the last word.

Oddly, Aesop found his letter was returned to him corrected with a red pen. And even more strangely, more unexplainable spots were returned with the letter.

[sinisteryanderescribe]

Hello I'm curious on how Norton comfort Nurse Reader?

Norton comforting Nurse Reader pls?

Note: Hello dear sorry it took long I was very sick and had a lot of personal issues going on.

Depths Of Comfort

…………………………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………….

The echoes of the match still reverberated through the manor, a haunting reminder of the fear and pain that had unfolded in the twisted corridors. You sat in your room, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls, your breaths ragged and hands trembling from the harrowing experience you had just endured.

Norton, stood at the threshold of your room, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and understanding. Without a word, he crossed the room to stand beside you, his presence a grounding force in the midst of turmoil.

In the dimly lit room, the male reached out a calloused hand to gently rest on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone accustomed to the rough terrain of the manor. In that simple gesture, you felt a rush of emotions - relief, vulnerability, and a flicker of hope that you weren't alone in your pain.

With a silent nod, he settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. There was no need for words between you, for in the shared silence lay a deep understanding that transcended the horrors you had faced in the match. It was a connection forged in the depths of the manor, where words often failed to convey the magnitude of the trials you endured.

As you struggled to steady your racing heart and quell the rising tide of emotions, Norton's steady presence was a lifeline in the darkness. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent pact of solidarity and support, a promise that you didn't have to face the aftermath alone.

You found solace in Norton's quiet strength, a beacon of light in the shadows of the manor. His unwavering presence spoke volumes, offering a sense of comfort and understanding that cut through the chaos and fear that lingered in the air.

Norton remained by your side, a steadfast companion in the aftermath of the match. His role as a miner shone through in the way he navigated the complexities of your emotions, much like he would navigate through the treacherous passages of the manor, with caution and determination.

As you sat there, enveloped in the quiet comfort of Norton's presence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support in the aftermath of the match. Though the black haired man hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to navigate the unfamiliar territory of offering comfort and solace to someone in need.

Despite his lack of experience with overt displays of affection, Norton's actions spoke volumes. Sensing your need for reassurance, he leaned in slightly, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions that swirled around you. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Norton's usual guarded expression softened, revealing a glimpse of the caring soul that lay beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, Norton tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gesture both tentative and sincere. The warmth of his touch seeped through you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggles. It was a small yet profound act of comfort, one that transcended the barriers Norton had built around himself.

Feeling the weight of his arm around you, you couldn't help but lean into his touch, seeking solace in the simple act of human connection. Norton's presence, though unfamiliar in its tenderness, offered a sense of security and understanding that you desperately needed in that moment of vulnerability.

As the night deepened, Norton's instinctive need to provide comfort and solace to you grew stronger, overcoming his usual reservations about physical touch. With a subtle yet determined resolve, he gently lifted you from your seat, cradling you in his arms with a surprising ease that belied his strength as a miner.

Moving you to his lap, he settled you against his firm chest, his arms encircling your waist in a protective embrace. The contrast between his rugged exterior and the tenderness of his actions created a sense of safety and warmth that enveloped you in a cocoon of comfort.

Feeling his breath against your neck as he nuzzled his nose and face into your hair, a wave of shyness and flustered warmth washed over you. The unexpected intimacy of his touch, though not overtly sexual, stirred a gentle flutter in your chest, a mix of vulnerability and gratitude for his unspoken support.

In response to his touch, you placed a hand on his thigh, a soft and subtle gesture of reciprocity. The contact was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had formed between you, a wordless reassurance that his touch was welcomed and reciprocated in kind.

With your hand resting on his thigh, you felt the tension in Norton's frame ease slightly, a subtle sign of his own need for comfort and closeness. In that quiet moment of shared intimacy, surrounded by the hushed stillness of the room, you found solace in the unspoken bond that had formed between you.

As the ex-miner held you close, his touch a balm to your weary soul, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, finding a sense of peace and security in the strength of his arms. The gentle rhythm of his breathing against your neck, the warmth of his body enveloping you, created a sanctuary of comfort in the midst of the chaos that had unfolded in the manor.

“Norton…” you would whisper softly, loving how his lean yet strong arms wrapped around your small form in a sort of protective yet intimate manner.

The said male would not respond but a soft raspy grunt followed by a hum. A way of informing you to stay quiet and relax on him…you knew him too well to be able to understand his language of communication.

[heartshapedbubble]

Hello there, can i request an Norton Campbell x fem reader scenario: Where she comforts him after he wakes up from a nightmare?

delivered (after too long, my apologies) 🫡 i also adore how norton became the poster boy of idv as of fg's release

norton campbell; comforting him after a nightmare🧲

cut for length! 🫧

~

it's three in the morning.

and you're still by your desk.

procrastination inevitably turned back on you after a long afternoon of dozing off, and so your eyes were glued onto the remaining paperwork which was due tomorrow. ten minutes have passed, then twenty, then thirty, then an hour, but the papers still laid blank in front of you. just lifting up the ink pen took serious effort and whatever you wanted to write seemed not good enough and sloppy. the workspace was flashing through your half-lidded eyes and you were beginning to question the possibility of submitting your work in time.

right now, you'd give anything to be in your boyfriend's shoes. he came back from a match sometime during the evening, took a warm everything shower and went to bed by the following hour. he hogged up all the pillows and both the duvets, only a few unruly strands of his hair peeking between the covers. not only was he taking up the whole bed, he was also turning around constantly, interrupting the few moments of concentration you found during these ungodly hours. you inhaled sharply and, just for a second, contemplated throwing your toiletry bag at him.

just as you turned around, you heard him start to groan. you hissed under your breath, both annoyed and worried. it's not uncommon for him to roll around while asleep - you sometimes woke up with small, random bruises from his elbowing - but he wasn't the type to sleepwalk or talk. wearily, you approached him, in hopes of calming him down so you can get back to work.

it wasn't too hot inside the room, but he was sweating profusely and breathing heavily, as if he was trying to breathe in as much air as possible at once. you reached for his back under the covers - his shirt was soaked. you opened the window and pulled back the duvet to help him cool down, but to no avail. he scrunched his nose, furrowed his eyebrows and yanked it back while half-asleep. you sighed again. this is going to take more than it should, you thought.

seeing him like that - restless and out of breath - did make you feel bad about him, though. perhaps comforting him would help him calm down. you ran your fingers through his hair, pulled back the few wet strands sticking to his face, but it was a proper workout. you couldn't keep up with the way his body jerked and how quickly he flipped over again and again. you were starting to get paranoid - these turns started to look more like spasms. already panicking, you grabbed his arm and started to shake him.

it didn't take long for him to wake up. he quickly sat up, as if he was struck by lightning, and took a few moments to start breathing normally again. his eyes were foggy and unfocused, and only a bit later did he turn towards you, not looking at you directly.

"nort, are you okay?" you asked him, relieved but still worried for him. he was in such a stupified state that you didn't actually expect him to answer, you just threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"mmfh. i'm okay. just a night terror or something like that." he replied quietly and threw himself back onto the bed. he was lying flat on his back, arms spread like an eagle, staring right at the ceiling. you laid next to him, wiping the remaining sweat with a paper tissue. "are you sure? want me to bring you a glass of water?" you asked him, still a bit surprised by how quickly he got over whatever was disturbing him a minute ago. "i'm good, thank you." he said and turned on his side, now face to face with you. "it was the mine again. y'know already, i told you a few times about it. me and some other guys from the area, explosives, pickaxes, piles of rocks and stuff like that", he spoke, drawing circles with his finger on your stomach, "i could almost feel the stench of the TNT. how disgusting that was! each time i dream of it, it becomes more vivid. i almost thought it was for real tonight."

"you have these kinds of nightmares quite often, nort. i'm actually suprised you get any sleep." you mumbled, concerned.

"they do shake me up. back then, when the memory was still fresh, i'd cry every time. they were persistent, and it seemed like what i saw there would haunt me every night without mistake. but... i'd say they subdued once i moved in with you, ___." he scrunched his lips into a half-grin, boyish and a little insecure. you knew he was quite awkward with stuff like this, being a little vulnerable and showing spine in ways other than being rough and untouchable. you smiled at him instead of responding and pulled him up onto yourself, gently stroking his back. you knew he didn't like drawing out conversations like these - he dumps whatever has been bothering him for a while and that's it. pushing him to open up a bit more will just result in the opposite.

"you should go back to sleep again. i think you've had enough stress for tonight."

"don't you have work to do?"

"it can wait. i'll cram whatever's left in the morning. it's healthier than pulling an all-nighter."

he squirmed in your arms, placing a chaste kiss on your neck.

"thank you, ___." he whispered after a few moments. your beloved's head buried in your chest, his entire weight pressing on your upper body. you embraced the ever-present warmth of his and quickly fell asleep against him. the window remained open, and the cold breeze blew at you two. with intertwined limbs and hearts now at peace, you fell to slumber - a much needed repose for both.

it was a tiring night.

[rinavatrix]

TWST x IDV

watch them get chaired in the basement next to each other (romantically)