#Ignore the braid being a little messy

[a-flaming-idiot]

The Lady Noire Experience

There were multiple reasons I started growing out my hair. But I'm pretty sure this was one of them.

[pomefioredove]

only one bed room

summary: it's the sdc and everyone's staying over at ramshackle but, oh no! you're one room and one bed short. being the generous (or gullible) soul that you are, you agree to share characters: all sdc competitors, separate additional info: fair warning I have no replayed book 5 in a while, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, most scenarios end in cuddles. can be interpreted as romantic or platonic (nix vil and rook's part)

Deuce Spade

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

it's a big fat no from Vil. waking up sore and tired is unacceptable, and will affect his performance during practice. he will use the bed, end of story.

you offer to take the floor or one of the many stiff and uncomfortable couches in Ramshackle, but he refuses

what kind of aspiring honor student would he be if he kicked you out of your own room?

so, yes, you end up sharing the bed

he's a perfect gentleman about it

he insists on sleeping on the complete opposite end of the bed

to give you your space, of course

not because he's nervous

obviously it doesn't pan out- he's kind of a messy sleeper, and on the first night you wake up with him sprawled on top of you

you decide not to wake him up

you'd been thinking about saving for a weighted blanket, anyway

Ace Trappola

"you better not hog the blankets,"

takes it like a champ, though he might be screaming internally

he already sleeps in a dorm with three other guys- this can't be any different, right?

it totally is

sharing a bed with someone? someone he likes, who he isn't just forced to live with for convenience?

he's not sure how to tease you about this one without coming off as nervous himself

so he just shuts his trap about it (for once) and accepts his fate

in the end, it's no big deal for a player like him

he ends up hogging the blankets, though. hypocrite.

Kalim al-Asim

"YAYYY SLEEPOVER!"

he means exactly what he says

not a care in the world

all he's thinking about is how fun this is going to be! just him and his favorite Ramshackle prefect (Grim heard the news and will be staying in deuce's room to avoid any cracker mishaps)

Kalim, admittedly, is not a creature of great thought. he tends to be dictated by his feelings, and he can be a little selfish sometimes

so when Jamil pulled him aside and asked him to just buy another bed for ramshackle, he ignored him entirely

why would he do that? the situation is resolved, and everyone's happy!

well... not everyone, but Kalim's happy!

he stocks up on Vil-approved snacks, insists you two braid each other's hair and stay up late into the night talking with no one to remind you to go to sleep

(he tried to invite Jamil and got the door slammed in his face)

this arrangement lasts approximately one night

when Vil sees the dark circles under your eyes, it's over

you are confined to the couch, and Kalim is forced to sleep alone

Jamil Viper

"okay,"

really. he's totally fine with it.

besides the fact that he doesn't want to cause any more trouble, he's shared beds with his siblings before. no big deal

he just wasn't expecting to wake up with you snuggled against him

but this is fine

totally fine

he's barely conscious and it's early morning, still dark, the time he's used to getting up at

Vil has things covered, right? he can stay here for a little while longer. it would be awkward trying to get up without waking you

it feels nice having something all to himself for once

he smirks, imagining how jealous everyone else would be:

the beautiful, kind, intelligent ramshackle prefect in his arms? oh, the looks on their faces would almost make this whole thing worth it!

but in the end, he decides to say nothing

he wants to keep you all to himself, after all

for just a little while longer

Epel Felmier

"ain't no way I'm sharing!"

that's what he says in his head, anyway. but it's late and he's worn out from practice (and being shouted at) so he just sighs and accepts his fate

of course Vil would make him do it. it's probably because he's the smallest, isn't it?

you can tell he's unhappy with the arrangement (not that he's making much of a secret of it- he's grumbling under his breath all evening)

he starts coming around to the idea when he wakes up holding something warm

his heart jumpstarts and he nearly panics before remembering where he is

and then he realizes the thing he's holding is... you. somehow the two of you had ended up spooning during the night

but, more importantly... he's the big spoon!

he's almost tempted to wake you to announce that he, in all his manly glory, had naturally assumed the most masculine cuddling position!

(yes he sounds ridiculous. just let him have this one)

he lets you sleep, though. just a little more won't hurt anyone, right?

he's okay with the arrangement after that

Rook Hunt

"I will do it!"

Vil isn't even able to finish his sentence before the vice housewarden is practically jumping up and down

pretty much everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief; a volunteer! thank the sevens. otherwise, this could get awkward...

of course, he quite intentionally ends up with you in his arms

but not for any nefarious purpose, he insists!

he's a light sleeper, and can be stirred by any sudden noise or movement

you appeared to be having some kind of nightmare

it reminds him of a small animal caught in a trap, struggling for its life. he can't bear to see it- it's cruel to let a poor creature go on suffering before you can make the kill

of course, instead of killing you (thank the sevens), he decides to comfort you

he presses your head against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, and he runs his fingers through your hair until you calm down.

then he keeps you there, just to be sure you don't have another bad dream

if you gave him permission, he would gladly be all over you in seconds. kissing up and down your shoulders, caressing every perfect inch of your body, whispering words of admiration

but he's perfectly content just cradling you for now

hopefully, you will continue to have these nightmares and give him excuses to do this again

Vil Schoenheit

"don't argue with me,"

initially, you just gave him the bed

maybe you were afraid of him; maybe you like him; maybe you just wanted to avoid a conflict altogether

either way, you spent the first night on the terribly uncomfortable floor, and trudged through Ramshackle like a zombie the next morning

Vil was feeling guilty watching you

what? he's not a monster

and he's a leader, which means he has a responsibility. and you had so graciously invited them all into your home...

fine! he'll share. he insists, even

when you try to argue, he shuts you down, repeating all that stuff about responsibility and hospitality, blah blah

and he doesn't want the team manager dead on their feet

arguing with him is pointless, so you just agree

he wakes up with you against him, sleeping peacefully

now, if it were you clinging to him- he might have had a good chuckle. can't keep your hands to yourself, prefect? I'm just that irresistible?

but the way he's holding you, the way his arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, the way he's so clearly pressing you against him...

he hates to admit it, but you're an elegant sleeper. it's almost cute

the tension is relieved from your face, your breathing graceful and steady, and your perfect lips open just a sliver...

he is a perfect gentleman, and would never dream of doing anything without your explicit permission, but for one shameful second he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you

... and then he quickly puts those thoughts aside and tries to get back to sleep

he doesn't want any dark circles, after all

[princesssmars]

desert eagle

another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i

seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.

wc : 2.619

contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3

a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.

truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.

it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.

but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.

it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.

but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'

who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.

right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.

the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.

the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.

you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-

"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.

"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."

"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.

"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"

"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."

"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"

"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”

so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.

your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.

“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.

“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-

“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”

you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.

“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.

“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.

you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.

the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.

once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.

you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."

"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"

"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-

"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"

"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.

"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."

you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.

"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."

you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.

"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."

"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"

she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.

"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.

"ab's, fuck, please."

"please what? use your words, beautiful."

"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."

she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.

your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.

before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."

all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.

you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.

you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.

"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."

she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.

"whatever you say, bunny."

when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.

quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.

you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.

"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"

"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."

and right about now that didnt sound too bad.

[herlondonboy]

pretty when you cry, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this post by @kitten-reader

warnings: aphrodite’s kids are pricks lol, erm it’s really bad…

wc: 2.8k

your hair was something that you prided yourself on.

it was no doubt that you were beautiful beyond comparison to your fellow demigods, what with being the daughter of aphrodite. people couldn’t even compare you to your godly siblings.

you believed that your hair was the reason that your beauty was so great, so you natural worked hard on it.

in the world of olympians, you found solace and pride in the strands of hair that cascaded down your shoulders like a cascade of silk. your hair, a manifestation of your divine heritage, was more than just a physical attribute— it was a symbol of your identity and a testament to the grace and allure that came with being the offspring of the goddess of love.

from the moment you discovered your parentage, you embraced the inherent charm that ran through your veins, and it manifested prominently in your hair. unlike the messy, unpredictable tresses of some demigods, yours seemed to have a life of its own, obeying your whims and desires with a luxurious sheen that captivated those around you.

the secret, as you often shared with your fellow campers at camp half-blood, lay in the meticulous care you bestowed upon your locks. your morning routine became a sacred ritual— a blend of enchanted hair care products and divine techniques passed down through generations of aphrodite's children. a symphony of sweet-scented potions and ethereal brushes transformed the routine into a dance of beauty, each stroke accentuating the natural glamour that radiated from your hair.

you revelled in the attention your hair garnered, the way it shimmered under the sunlight as if kissed by the gods themselves. it became a beacon of confidence, a tangible manifestation of your divine heritage that set you apart from the sea of demigods at the camp. the other campers often marvelled at your ability to maintain such perfection, unaware of the divine secrets woven into every strand.

however, your relationship with your hair wasn't purely superficial. it served as a connection to your mother, a link to the goddess whose legacy you carried. the act of caring for it became a ritual that grounded you, a reminder of the divine blood that coursed through your veins and the responsibilities that came with it.

not unbeknownst to you, the envy and resentment simmered beneath the surface of the camp. the adoration and attention that accompanied your divine beauty fuelled the flames of jealousy among your fellow aphrodite siblings. little did you realise, being the favourite child of the goddess of love came at a cost, and that cost was the disdain of your own kin.

as you moved through the camp with the grace of a deity, your radiant hair attracting attention like a beacon, you, though aware of the hostile whispers that followed in your wake, chose to ignore. the other children of aphrodite, who were accustomed to being the centre of attention, couldn't fathom the idea of sharing the spotlight with someone they perceived as the golden child.

the jealousy manifested in subtle acts of exclusion and passive-aggressive remarks. your attempts to connect with your half-siblings often met with cold shoulders and thinly veiled animosity. the communal vanity table, where aphrodite's children traditionally gathered, became a battlefield of unspoken rivalry as they vied for the elusive title of the most captivating demigod.

yet, you, in your innocence, continued to extend kindness and friendship to those around you, oblivious to the resentment building in the hearts of your fellow campers. the intricate braids and enchanting hairstyles you generously offered to create for others only fuelled their frustration, as they struggled to reconcile the warmth of your gestures with the envy burning within them.

within the intricate dynamics of camp half-blood, one particular relationship defied expectations and unfolded with a complexity that left others bewildered. clarisse la rue, known for her brusque demeanour and a reputation that preceded her, stood as an unexpected confidante in your life. despite her gruff exterior and the scathing remarks she directed towards most campers, clarisse treated you with an unusual gentleness, and a unique bond formed between you two.

it all began during a chance encounter near the armoury, where clarisse, with her characteristic scowl, found herself inexplicably drawn to you. to the surprise of everyone witnessing the scene, her rough hands delicately traced the contours of your locks, as if handling a precious artefact. the camp's collective gasp echoed through the air, and it was then that an unspoken connection began to weave itself between you and the formidable daughter of ares.

clarisse, who seldom allowed others into her personal space, not only tolerated but seemed to relish the moments spent running her fingers through your hair. your shared interactions defied the logic of the camp's social hierarchy, leaving fellow demigods perplexed and intrigued by the peculiar alliance that had blossomed between you two.

as your friendship with clarisse deepened, it became apparent that her seemingly abrasive exterior masked a vulnerability that few had the privilege to witness. she confided in you about the weight of expectations placed upon her shoulders as the daughter of ares, the god of war. your hair, with its calming allure, became an unexpected refuge for her, a sanctuary where she could momentarily escape the demands of her tumultuous life.

in the quiet moments shared between you and clarisse, amidst the backdrop of a camp constantly on guard against mythical threats, an unexpected emotion began to stir— love. the kind of love that transcended the lines drawn by parentage and reputations. it was a love born out of understanding, acceptance, and the shared vulnerability that only the tumultuous world of demigods could evoke.

the camp, initially taken aback by the unlikely friendship, eventually came to accept the profound connection that had blossomed between you and clarisse. the daughter of ares, who once stood as an enigma wrapped in hostility, softened in the presence of your divine beauty and the solace found within the cascade of your hair.

as your feelings for each other deepened, the two of you navigated the complexities of love in a world fraught with danger. clarisse's protective instincts, honed on the battlefield, as well as in camp. together, you became an unlikely force, a symbol of love's ability to bridge even the most unexpected divides.

there was a time when a group of your own siblings, fuelled by jealousy and resentment, conspired to disrupt the tranquil rhythm of your bonds with your mother and girlfriend. one day, your prized possession, a hairbrush gifted by your mother, disappeared from its usual place. panic set in as you scoured the cabin, realising that this wasn't just a casual prank— someone had deliberately taken something sacred to you.

as whispers of the stolen hairbrush circulated through the cabin, the undercurrents of jealousy among your siblings bubbled to the surface. the mischievous culprits revelled in their act of sabotage, convinced that stripping you of this cherished item would somehow diminish the radiance that surrounded you.

it didn't take long for clarisse to sense your distress. the unspoken bond between you two had woven itself into a tapestry of mutual understanding, and she recognised the significance of the pilfered hairbrush. determined to right the wrong, clarisse took it upon herself to investigate the matter.

she confronted your siblings with an intensity that left them quaking in their sandals. her stern gaze bore into their guilt-ridden souls, extracting the truth like a seasoned interrogator. clarisse's usually thunderous voice carried a solemn edge as she demanded the return of the stolen hairbrush and an apology befitting the gravity of their actions.

unbeknownst to the misguided thieves, clarisse's reputation for ferocity on the battlefield extended to her protective instincts off it. the very fear she instilled in her enemies on the front lines was now directed at those who dared to threaten the tranquility of your connection.

under the weight of clarisse's unwavering determination, the guilty siblings caved. they returned the stolen hairbrush with bowed heads, offering apologies that bordered on genuine remorse. clarisse, satisfied with the swift resolution, ensured that justice prevailed, safeguarding the sanctity of the connection between you and the divine gift bestowed upon you by aphrodite.

as the stolen hairbrush was returned to its rightful place, the bond between you and clarisse strengthened. the trials you faced together only deepened the roots of your connection, intertwining your destinies in a tale of love, loyalty, and the unyielding power of shared vulnerability. in the heart of camp half-blood, where demigods navigated the tumultuous waters of existence, your story became a testament to the resilience of love against the currents of jealousy and deceit.

-

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over camp half-blood, as clarisse la rue realised she hadn't seen you all day. a sense of unease settled in her chest, an unfamiliar concern that compelled her to seek you out. with each passing moment, her worry deepened, driven by a gut feeling that something was amiss.

clarisse traversed the familiar paths of the camp, her eyes scanning the bustling activity for a glimpse of your familiar figure. the ares cabin loomed in the distance, and a knot tightened in her stomach as she approached, not spotting you among the demigods sparring and training.

finally reaching the ares cabin, clarisse's unease morphed into genuine concern. where were you? why hadn't she seen you all day? the questions echoed in her mind, and she briskly entered the cabin, determined to uncover the mystery behind your absence.

there, in the dimly lit interior, she found you sitting on the edge of her bunk, your figure shrouded by a hood and a hat pulled low over your tearful eyes. the sight sent a ripple of worry through clarisse, and she rushed to your side, her gruff demeanour momentarily replaced by a genuine sense of care.

"hey, what happened?" clarisse asked, her voice softer than usual as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. your tear-streaked face turned towards her, and the anguish in your eyes tugged at her heart.

"they took it away," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. you repeated the words, a mantra of despair, and clarisse struggled to comprehend the source of your pain. "they took it away."

clarisse's brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. "took what away? what happened?"

with trembling hands, you reached up and pulled off the hood, revealing a mess of uneven strands that once cascaded in silky splendour. clarisse's eyes widened in realisation, her hand instinctively reaching to touch the shortened locks. the betrayal etched on your face told the story before you uttered a single word.

"they cut it," you sobbed, burying your face in clarisse's shoulder. "they cut it, clarisse. look at it, it's gone. all gone."

comprehension dawned on clarisse as she gently ran her fingers through the uneven strands. anger surged within her, a protective instinct for the one she cared about more than she ever thought possible. "who did this?" she growled, her gaze ablaze with fury.

you shook your head, unable to articulate the betrayal and cruelty that led to this moment. clarisse, however, needed no words. she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as she vowed to make those responsible pay for the pain they inflicted.

in the sanctuary of the ares cabin, amid the echoes of your tearful revelation, clarisse became a pillar of strength, ready to stand by your side and face whatever challenges lay ahead. love, in its purest and most protective form, ignited within her, as the daughter of ares transformed into a fierce guardian of the broken and betrayed.

the night hung heavy with an air of tension as you cried yourself to sleep in clarisse's bed, the echoes of betrayal haunting your dreams. clarisse, ever the guardian, sat silently beside you, watching over your restless slumber. the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the determination etched into her face, fuelled by a fierce protectiveness that refused to be extinguished.

as your sobs eventually subsided into the quiet rhythm of sleep, clarisse rose from the bedside with a silent determination. in the dim light of the cabin, she retrieved her spear, its blade glinting with a subtle menace. the daughter of ares, had one mission— avenge you.

the night enveloped camp half-blood in a cloak of darkness as clarisse stealthily made her way towards the aphrodite cabin. the aura of the daughter of ares carried an intensity that reverberated through the quiet paths, heralding a confrontation fuelled by the depth of her feelings for you.

standing outside the cabin, clarisse's eyes narrowed with determination as she observed the shadows within. the miscreants who had dared to harm you needed to be taught a lesson—one they would not soon forget. gripping her spear tightly, clarisse pushed open the door, her gaze unwavering as she confronted your godly siblings.

the scene within was one of startled surprise as clarisse stormed into the cabin. her voice, usually thunderous on the battlefield, now carried a chilling calmness. "you touch her again, and i promise you, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine."

the air in the cabin grew heavy with tension as the children of aphrodite, once filled with false bravado, now faced the unyielding force of clarisse's wrath. she recounted the pain you had endured, the tears that stained your face, and the betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.

in her hand, the spear gleamed ominously, a silent warning that spoke volumes. the children of aphrodite, their faces pale with fear, found themselves cornered by the very embodiment of wrath standing before them. clarisse's words echoed in the cavernous space, leaving an indelible mark on their consciousness.

with a final warning that carried the weight of a promise, clarisse turned on her heel, leaving the aphrodite cabin in her wake. the night embraced her as she returned to the ares cabin, a sense of satisfaction lingering in the air. the protective fire that burned within her had been unleashed, a fierce determination to shield you from further harm.

the following day, the morning light filtered through the windows of the ares cabin, casting a gentle glow over the space. you awoke with a heaviness in your heart, the memory of the previous day's betrayal lingering like a shadow. as you sat up in bed, clarisse entered the cabin, her eyes immediately locking onto yours. the weight of the night's events still etched on her features, but a newfound determination shone in her gaze.

"hey," clarisse greeted you, her voice softer than usual. she took a seat beside you, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. "we need to talk."

the air felt charged with a mix of vulnerability and strength as clarisse began to speak. "i know yesterday was rough, and i can't change what happened, but i need you to understand something." she took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "your beauty isn't defined by your hair. it's not just one thing that makes you pretty. it's everything."

clarisse began listing every part of you, her voice deliberate and unwavering. "your eyes– they hold a strength and depth that's beyond compare. your lips– they carry a warmth that can brighten the darkest days. your ears– they've heard laughter, pain, and everything in between. every part of you contributes to the unique beauty that is you."

you listened, the weight of her words sinking in, but doubt still lingered in your eyes. clarisse, undeterred, continued, "and, above all, it's your personality. your kindness, your strength, your resilience – that's what makes you truly beautiful."

a flicker of disbelief danced across your face, and clarisse recognised the challenge ahead. she persisted, her gaze unwavering. "say it. say you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

you hesitated, the echoes of the previous day's betrayal still reverberating in your mind. "i can't- i can’t say that. not after what they did to me."

clarisse tightened her grip on your shoulder, her voice taking on a gentle insistence. "you need to believe it. it's not about them; it's about you. say it with me. you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

it felt like a mantra, a repetition that tested the resilience of self-perception. clarisse didn't back down, patiently guiding you through each affirmation until the words became a declaration echoing within the walls of the ares cabin. "i'm beautiful because of my eyes, lips, ears, and every part of me."

as you repeated the words, something shifted within you. the doubt began to yield to the truth that clarisse so fervently believed. her unwavering support became a lifeline, anchoring you to a newfound understanding of your own beauty.

in that shared moment, surrounded by the strength of ares' cabin, you started to embrace the truth that beauty wasn't confined to a single aspect. it was a mosaic, a tapestry woven from the threads of every part that made you uniquely, undeniably yourself. clarisse, with her fierce love and unyielding determination, had become the mirror reflecting the truth you needed to see.

[vanilladove]

𐙚⋆.⋆♡ dollhouse

spooktober 2024 masterlist

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 pairing: yandere!ayatsuji yukito x fem!reader

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 content warnings: kidnapping, dollification, stockholm syndrome, a tiny bit suggestive

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 summary: an intriguing customer with an obsession for dolls visits your family's antique shop and is captivated by you, but little do you know what he has in store for you...

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 word count: 2.5k

The door to the basement clicked open, signaling that he was back home.

Ayatsuji Yukito. The man who had kidnapped you randomly and gotten away with it, because he could.

You still remembered meeting him at your parents' antiques shop, the smell of smoke wafting past you. The way his gold orbs cut into your soul, and the following shudder your body let out—looking back now, it must've been a sign, but you ignored it. How could you not, though, with how beautiful the man behind you was? When you turned around, you took in his appearance.

His messy blonde waves and his dressed-up attire—donning a white button-up, gray sweater vest, and a maroon tie tucked underneath. When he pushed up his yellow-tinted sunglasses, his eyes finally met yours. Giving you a calculated look up-and-down, he smiled like he was pleased about something.

Remembering your employee duties, you cleared your throat, "H-Hi, can I help you with anything, sir?"

He looked around suddenly, checking out all of the windows like he was making sure no one was following him. "Ah, yes, actually—" he looked back again, trying to flash you another grin like he was trying not to be suspicious, "Do you have any dolls here?"

Your eyes widened in delight; no one ever came for those, "Dolls? Yes, we have some in the back. Follow me." You motioned for the man to go down the aisles with you, but you didn't know Ayatsuji was observing you, too.

He admired your loose braid, fastened by a red gingham bow. The puffy white dress and brown leather mary janes you wore, matching the aesthetic of the store. Cute. The detective thought, wondering if you liked wearing frilly skirts and laced high heels. You'd look pretty like that, you already had such lovely doe eyes.

"Here they are, sir."

"Ayatsuji. My name's Ayatsuji, darling." He shook his head, "I'm not that old yet." You giggled from that, the angelic sound gracing his ears as you blushed from slight embarrassment. You were oblivious to the way your presence captivated him.

Your ruby-tinted lips turned upwards, "These are the dolls, Ayatsuji," you paused, noticing how he admired the ball-jointed dolls on the rack, and explained the assortment to him. His gaze wandered from the dolls to you and back and forth, and he attentively listened until you were done speaking. "Are you buying them for anyone special? A girlfriend or a younger sis—"

His golden eyes cut into you again, but not before a smirk appeared, "No, they're for me. I collect dolls."

You curiously brought a finger to your lips—he was definitiely an interesting man. "Collect dolls, huh? Most customers avoid this rack because they think they're haunted or too creepy." You turned to the side to smile again, recalling the pranks you used to play on your cousins who were scared of dolls.

Ayatsuji sighed, a coy smile still on his face, "Creepy? I don't think so. I actually find them quite enchanting. Dolls are far more intriguing than people. You never grow sick of them." You were surprised to see his face so close to yours, goosebumps crawling up your arms. He looked even better up close, and you were sure the rose coming back on your cheeks didn't hide anything.

You internally scolded yourself for being so attracted to a random customer, but you couldn't help it. Your parents had moved far away from your hometown to open an antique store closer to the city, so you didn't know anyone here. Since you already finished school and felt obligated to help your parents run their shop, you never had time to meet people. Customers were your main form of outside interaction, and hot men never came in.

You're staring at him too much. Look away. Your mind screamed at you, and you abided, coughing awkwardly. You knew it was unethical to fall in love with the first attractive man you could talk to, "I see, um, well, let me know if you have any questions. I'll be by the register—"

Ayatsuji pulled you closer, forcing your uncertainty-filled eyes to look into his again, "Wait, I have a question for you." Time stopped as he pleaded softly. You tapped his arm again, signaling that you weren't leaving. He stared intensely at the dolls again, squininting his eyes as he slowly let go of your shoulders, looking you up and down again.

"These dolls...are there any that look like you?"

You stepped away, cheeks heating up, "Wha-What?" You were startled by the way he so casually asked you that, "O-Oh, you mean any with my style of clothes?" You frantically turned back, grabbing a doll with braided hair and a white puffy dress and trying to shove it into Ayatsuji's hands, but he stopped your motions halfway.

He smirked amusedly at you, entertained by your flustered reaction, "No, darling, I mean any that look like you. With your same complexion, your pretty doe eyes, and beauty."

He spoke like a poet.

"You think I'm beautiful?" You started, not used to the abrupt compliment. "Wait, Ayatsuji, are you flirting with me?" You looked up to see the cheeky man laugh, a cocky grin still present. He nodded again, mumbling a soft mmhmm before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your pearl-adorned ears. You would be fun to dress up.

You opened your mouth, but you were cut off by the bell from the entrance ringing. "Ayatsuji! What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get past the sniper team?" An angry green-haired women in a suit stormed past the aisles towards you too, making Ayatsuji click his tongue and sigh in annoyance.

"Oh, Tsujimura, as always, you have the worst timing." He turned back to you, softening his facial expression, "Apologies our time has been cut short, darling, I would've loved to chat more with you. Can I—"

A black-gloved hand seized Ayatsuji's shirt collar and shook him aggressively, "Hello! Are you even listening to me?! I'm taking you back now!" He only swatted her hand away dismissively, making her even more mad.

His warm glance turned cold as he faced her, "I heard you the first time, alright?" He pointed to the doll in your hands, "Can I get that delivered to me?"

You were confused by the scene in front of you, but you shook your head, "No, unfortunately we're in-store only." Tsujimura fumed, about to take her wrath out on you next. You swore you could see steam coming out of her ears.

Side-eyeing her, Ayatsuji pulled you into an embrace, a sugary coffee scent filling your nose. He leaned down, whispering in your ear, "No worries, I'll come back for you, my precious doll." You froze, not expecting a hug and unsure if he was talking to you or the inanimate figure.

You felt chilly as his warm body left yours and he took his leave, waving goodbye as he was dragged out left with Tsujimura. What a strange encounter. You shoved the doll under the register and grabbed a cardigan to wrap around yourself, wondering when you'd see him again.

It wasn't until a week later, until you were closing the shop and heard the front door ring again, that you saw Ayatsuji again. Except he looked different. He was wearing a black turtleneck, black belt, and black trousers and shoes. Like he was trying to blend in with the night. It was dark since you'd dimmed most of the bright display lights. His gold eyes were all you could see, but there was a different glint to them.

"A-Ayatsuji! Y-You're back?!" You were taken aback, glad to see him but also a bit cold for some reason. He walked towards you, his boots clacking against the hardwood floor. You ran to meet him, smiling like he was your long-lost lover, and hugged him, wanting to return his gesture from before. His warm breath fanned the shell of your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Hah, I'm glad you missed me too, darling." He stroked your hair, taming the unkept strands, "Can I take the pretty doll home with me now?" Your brows furrowed. He was talking strangely again, but you pulled away to nod and crouch to get the doll from a week ago. Ayatsuji took out a smoking pipe from his pocket, taking a long hit of it before blowing it by your face. You held the doll out, trying to give the figure to him while waving your hand and coughing from the smoke which he wouldn't stop blowing in your direction. You already felt a bit dizzy, and the last thing you remembered was his smirking face before the world turned black.

You were in a cold room full of dolls. It was adorned with old paintings and a Victorian-style bed, but you couldn't shake the feeling of the glass eyes boring into your shivering body—tied to the bed with some silky lace. You tried resisting against it, but it wouldn't budge.

A mocking laugh sent a familiar shiver down your spine, coming directly in front of you. Seated in a throne-like chair in front of you was Ayatsuji, your once charming yet unsettling customer. "Seriously, doll, you really need to stop with these futile escape attempts of yours."

Setting his hat and coat on the arm of the chair, he slowly made his way onto the bed beside you, suddenly turning soft as he caressed your cheek. You hated to admit it, but his warm touch was too easy to relish in and lean into, and it had slowly become the only source of comfort in your bone-chilling enclosure. He smiled in response, "At least try to appreciate me making it pretty and cute for you."

You mumbled a quiet 'thanks' which seemed to satisfy him. He excitedly untied your lace ropes like they were nothing and pulled you into his arms, and you reciprocated his gesture a bit too eagerly.

"I missed you, Ayatsuji. Please don't leave me in here with these dolls all the time." You whimpered, burying your face in your captor's chest, inhaling his coffee-smoke scent. He only continued to stroke your hair, kissing you gently.

"Don't say that, darling—I got all these friends for you since I knew how lonely you were before." The helpless look in your pleading eyes and your needy little pouts always pulled at Ayatsuji's cold heart--he couldn't resist himself from spoiling his precious doll.

You shook your head, "It's not the same...they don't talk to me, and it's so...cold here." Of course, you wouldn't mention the short dress and thin stockings on your body—Ayatsuji took care in picking out different dolly outfits and playing dress-up with you.

He tilted his head innocently, "You're cold? Ah, maybe I should gift you a puffy coat and leg warmers? So you look like one of those pretty slavic dolls?" He cupped your face excitedly with his big hands, scanning your figure up and down with a piercing gaze, "Yeah, you'd look nice like that."

You nodded frantically—anything to cover your exposed skin, making Ayatsuji giggle. "Doll...you know your clothes aren't cheap, right? Especially because I get them tailored to your body..." Your heart started beating. Fast. Ayatsuji always did this--offered something he somehow knew you were in need of in exchange for some sort of affectionate favor. It was all a plot to make you slowly become more dependent on him. And it always worked.

You placed your hands on his chest, getting ready to plead for something nice, "W-What do you want this time? A kiss? Homemade dinner?" You blushed, remembering the times you'd gotten more intimate, "Or se—"

He placed a finger to your lips, "You missed me today, so how about just a sweet little kiss?" He flashed you a caring smile while he leaned back against the head of the bed and patted his lap.

You exhaled shakily, becoming a bit too conscious of what you were wearing. You slowly made your way onto Ayatsuji's lap and pushed his bangs away gently. You told yourself that these acts of affection were just performances, but you started to question how much of it was an act and how much was through your own will. You certainly couldn't stop yourself from shivering when his hands teased your thighs, or the shaky breaths that left as he started drawing circles on your cold skin.

Bringing your face closer to his, you whispered, "I love you, Ayatsuji. Thank you for taking care of me." You dipped down and caught his lips with yours, kissing him passionately as his hands made their way up to wrap around your waist. Your mind was screaming at you not to indulge your kidnapper any further and to pull away, but his touch felt too nice.

You went further, loosening his collar and kissing down his neck. Ayatsuji groaned, pressing you down further against his lap. He felt so warm. "A-Ah, doll, you're so needy today." He pulled you away to gaze at your slightly glassy eyes, which were focused on him only. He started fiddling with the hem of your frilly dress, starting to place light kisses on your collarbone.

You felt cold again suddenly, so you looked up. A bony doll with black eyes was glaring at you shamefully, like it was disappointed in how easily your heart caved in to your captor.

Feeling your body still, Ayatsuji stopped and looked up to see your gaze wandering to the sides of the room where his other dolls were. "Doll—"

"Ayatsuji, how is my family?" You gripped his shoulders and looked back at him, but his face seemed more stoic now. "Are they...still looking for me?" You yelped as you felt his fingers dig into your hips.

"Darling, you're not supposed to worry about them anymore." He sighed dejectedly. Your eyes widened again when he squished your cheeks and pulled your face back down. "Dolls should just look pretty and give all their attention to their owners, right? You know that, don't you, love?" He shook your face softly as tears threatened to spill and the warmth left your body.

"Awww, don't cry and ruin your makeup, doll. Don't you still want that coat?" He pulled you down on his lap again and stroked your hair while wiping the drops forming by your eyes, careful not to smudge your eye makeup. He kissed near your ear before whispering into it, "Just keep kissing me, okay? You're so close."

You felt broken, but you couldn't disobey him. He was the only one looking after you now, and you knew you couldn't escape him. Shaking slightly, you placed your lips back on his, holding onto him for dear life. He exhaled blissfully again, happy you were back to being compliant.

"Like that, doll. I love you so much, you know? Just stay with me and don't think about anything else."

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Parties.

Pairing: Natasha X fem reader

Fluff :)

Warnings: none I think. Nat being jealous hehe

The start is written by @azaleavolkova so full credits to them!

Nats pov:

As per the end of a tough mission, a stark party was thrown. Probably one of the biggest yet, all paid for by Stark. I don't even think he monitors or has anyone to monitor who comes in. And that's why I'm here, I was invited as a plus one, to my beloved soon-to-be spouse. Yes, I'm engaged. And yes, I love them as much as my heart can. I mean, I'm constantly thinking about them.

Anyway, here I am, in the elevator at the Avengers Tower, in a black, long flowy dress, the straps of the dress wrapped delicately around my neck. Along with the dress, I have a cute little moonstone teardrop pendant with little tree branches on the sides on my neck, completing my outfit.

A ding rang throughout the elevator, the doors opening soon after. My eyes widen almost immediately after I saw how many people were here. I quickly regained my composure, walking through the doors confidently, looking around the room and seeing widen eyes, even some dropped jaws.

"Pick up your jaws, or else a fly will get it's way into it." As soon as I said that, a little fly flew its way into one of the guests' mouths, being spit out just as quickly as it went in.

I roll my eyes and walk through the crowds. Ignoring the stares and attention. My eyes searching for my fiancee. But unfortunately they aren't here yet. I silently curse and walk down to the bar.

Its been half an hour. I'm on the sidelines of the party mainly surveying the entry. But since my fiancee hasn't shown up yet I've decided to amuse the men that have conveniently surrounded me and offered drinks or a cigarette. Eventually I take one of the men up on their offer and take a glass of champagne from the man.

The guy himself isn't too bad looking. He has dark messy hair and brown eyes of the chocolate variety and if I wasn't engaged and in a happy relationship I would've given him a shot. But I found the love of my life and have no interest in the guy.

I chat amongst the men. My eyes lingering on the entrance. Though another blond man blocks my view leaving me slightly pissed. Now how am I meant to see my glorious fiancee when they walk in!?

It's been another half hour. I'm almost sick of the men. I'm holding my third glass of champagne and yet they still haven't shown up yet. I think atleast. That is until a group of men part slightly and I see her.

There standing in a teal dress that blends into navy blue is my fiancee y/n. And she looks gorgeous. Her hair styled into a braided crown. My eyes glued. I don't even remember the fact I'm surrounded by men until one speaks up about how he'd take my woman. I am now very tempted to rip his head off. But y/n would be disappointed if I ruined this night to I refrain till later.

"hold my drink boys. I'm going in."

I smirk as I hand one of the men my glass. His mouth opening slightly. I fix my red hair and step away from the group, ignoring the shocked stares from the men who thought they had a chance. I walk over to the greatest woman in my life and I kiss the back of her hand.

"glad you could join us darling."

I mumble against her skin as I pull y/n close. I've missed her. But I do get a giggle from the love of my life.

"Tasha it seems you have a shocked fan club behind you."

Y/n smiles. I roll my eyes. I could care less for the mob I just left. Instead focusing on y/n.

"let's not discuss them."

I ask as I step away from y/n pulling in her hand. She has pearl bracelets on. They look almost as pretty as she does. Y/n smiles back.

"you seem jealous."

Y/n grins. I look less amused.

"one was being unprofessional when describing a relation he wished to have with you."

I speak low. Jealousy flashing through my eyes. I know it does because y/n laughs.

"don't worry Tasha I only have eyes for you."

The affirmative voice calms down the green monster inside me. I pull y/n into a kiss she easily reciprocates. I want to hold onto the moment forever.

A/n: This is a work that was started by @azaleavolkova and full credits to her. The rest of the fic is my own original work however. The first four paragraphs were written by @azaleavolkova.

[oh-meretseger]

part 3 - Listen

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (although they still don’t touch each other teehee i’m sorry), phone sex, mutual masturbation

word count: 4,1k

Thursday night. You being stressed out of your mind, Jean being his inconsiderate jerk self, not even trying to help you do the finishing touches of your project.

"I can't believe you're not able to pay attention for one fucking minute, you're such a fucking dumbass!" you let the spiteful words spill out of your mouth loudly, almost yelling, not even thinking about holding your anger back anymore.

Jean bit his lower lip as he listened to you yell at him through the phone. He shifted in his seat, spreading his thighs a little wider. Once again, this damn feeling started to take over him...

"A dumbass, huh?"

"You heard me right, a dumbass."

Jean closed his eyes, getting lost in the feeling. He never thought of himself as a masochist. And no loser little nerd could ever get a reaction out of him by degrading him... But as he listened to your voice, stern and unforgiving, your words so full of spite and such intense anger, he couldn't help but feel himself grow hard under his gray sweatpants.

"An arrogant fucking prick, who is so full of himself, he can't even FATHOM how much precious time of others he's fucking wasting" you didn't plan on stopping now. Even though it was pure anger what made you act so unusually rude, it felt good as it left your mouth. You had so much frustration against Jean stored up in your body. Although you blatantly ignored the reason for that, on purpose... But you could feel the relief of setting it free.

Jean couldn't see you, but he imagined as your glasses moved slightly on the pretty freckles on your nose while you were cursing at him through the phone. He loved when those seemingly innocent, big eyes of yours turned so fiery and intense, whenever he reached his goal in annoying you until you lashed out.

His hand slid down to where his sweatpants started to feel tight and grabbed his growing hard-on, letting out a quiet and low groan. He palmed himself as he listened to you rambling on.

You're in your dorm and it's late at night, your hair must be in the messy braid right now that you usually wear at home, a few soft strands falling down to your delicate little neck, as you are fuming with anger and spit out such nasty words from between those innocently glistening, plump lips of yours...

"Mhmmm"

"What 'mmm'?! Are you even listening?" you yelled at him again through the phone, not even suspecting anything. You wished he was right in front of you at that moment. The relief of cursing him out wasn't enough - you wanted to look him in the eye and tell him off right in front of that stupid smug face of his. You would jump right to his throat...

Another second passed, and a quiet moan stopped you in your tracks. You almost continued your rant, but this simple sound made you catch your breath.

Was that really a moan?

"Call me a dumbass again" you heard Jean's gentle voice from the other end, groaning, almost whiny as the sentence ended with another soft moan.

Heat immediately started to spread in your body.

You froze and couldn't even identify the intense wave of feeling that washed through you. Is it embarassment, maybe shock that makes you so damn confused right now?

A strong tingling feeling appeared inside you as another one of those quiet groans reached your ear. The heat flowing through your body, right to your core, felt like the one that always makes you explode with anger, whenever Jean is getting on your nerves... This felt a lot like that, actually, but this time the tension awoken by his voice was starting to make you lose any and all composure you had this far, and come undone. Is he really..?

"What, you're not mad at me anymore?" Jean's low voice broke the short silence and even though you couldn't see him, you could hear he was smiling. You could not believe your ears just yet, but you started to hear quiet, but definitely rhythmic and lewd noises coming from him.

Your brain shut down completely at the sound, words left your lips by themselves.

"Yes"

"Keep yelling at me then, baby" Jean told you again, his tone deep and filled with desire. Baby.

It was happening again... The heat flowing through you was making a pool of your panties at that very moment. This time was different though, it wasn't one of your little fantasies about Jean that you tried to deny the existance of. Or maybe this is a dream..?

You closed your eyes as you listened to another sigh and the slight, slow wet noises from the background.

"Jean-"

Jean's right hand was holding his phone, letting your sweet voice fill his ear. His gray sweatpants were now pushed down, around his thick thighs, just enough to let his other hand move freely, slowly sliding up and down on his hard cock, fingers slightly squeezing around its girth.

"Am I not a dumbass anymore?"

"Wha-" you tried to reply, but you choked on your words. You could feel your face grow hot as you realized how wet you got by hearing Jean's sounds of pleasure. Arousal, confusion and anger made your mind go hazy and absolutely dumbfounded. "You are. What the actual fuck"

Is this idiot really jerking off to you cussing him out?

"Are you being serious right now?! Or is this some kind of disgusting joke?"

"That's it, Y/N" it was like Jean's heavy breathing was directly connected to your center through your ear, and you closed your eyes as a desperate moan left his mouth, sending another wave of warmth through your wet folds. "You're mad at me for not paying attention, what else?"

You started squirming in your seat, still denying how good Jean's voice made you feel. You wanted to hate him for this. How is it possible the most intense arousal you've ever felt was awoken by this self absorbed jerk, who you could swear you despised?

"I can't believe you-" you wanted to make the good feeling go away, but even rubbing your thighs together a little made you see stars as you thought of him stroking his cock to your voice. "You always fucking do this, you act like such an out-of-pocket prick, I could seriously punch you in the face right now!”

Jean chuckled, his hand still slowly working his achingly erect cock. You wanted your words to sound foul, but your voice felt like sweet honey in his ear, making him hungry for more.

He couldn't have explained this whole situation, even if he wanted to... But he didn't want to. You were so emotional, so different from your usual self whenever he purposefully got on your nerves - and he was so incredibly turned on by it. And he knew you felt the same. He saw the way you looked at him fresh out of the shower the day before.

You were being a stubborn little brat at the moment, but Jean could sense the sparks of your frustration, even through the phone.

"Yeah? Y'think you could hurt me?" he smiled to himself, then stopped the steady up-and-down of his hand to squeeze his sensitive pink tip and slowly smear his glistening precum around with a finger.

Of course, you didn't mean these words in the slightest - although the force of your present feelings could easily make you feel otherwise. Jean was arrogant, sure, at least when he was around you, and him being so nonchalantly blunt always rubbed you the wrong way... But maybe it was because of how calm and collected he seemed, all the time, no matter the circumstances, he could always turn anything into a snarky joke.

You secretly loved when he got heated during an argument, barely visibly losing his temper. His smug grin turning into clenched teeth, those long fingers, big hands squeezing into a fist, his muscles tensing up...

Exactly like his forearm is probably tensing right now, sliding his hand on his hard cock.

Why do you feel the need to see, just get a glimpse of it..?

"You can't even imagine" you replied, and although you intended to sound infuriated, you couldn't help but smile back. "I could bite through your stupid throat right now"

"Oh yeah? How'd you know I'd like that?"

You literally started seeing stars hearing Jean's voice moaning those words.

Jean's hand picked up the rhythm again, stroking his cock, wet with precum, thinking about how your pretty little lips must be parted in confusion right now, your mind conflicted if you should stop denying and let yourself enjoy what feels good, or just straight up hang up on him.

On the other side of the phone, the wet sounds paired with Jean's heavy breathing and occasional quiet, desperate groans eventually made you lose all control, your eyes fell shut and you let out a soft little moan.

The widest grin formed on Jean's face as his cock throbbed in his hand at your sweet sound. "What now, I thought you were a good little nerd? You're not enjoying this, are you?"

You leaned back onto your pillows, let your knees fall further apart and slid your fingers to the hem of your panties. This is so wrong.

"You're the most annoying person I've ever met, Kirstein" you closed your eyes, him being the only image in your mind. You felt yourself get even more wet thinking about his arm muscles prominent as he pleasures himself, his big, strong thighs and the heaven that must be inbetween them...

"Mhm, what else?" Jean smirked, starting to find your angry little remarks adorable. He already knew you lost the battle against yourself - you lost your disguise, and couldn’t hold back your instinct anymore.

"And I hate you" you mumbled while your index finger delicately brushed over your clit through the fabric of your cotton panties. You accidentally let out a sigh as you felt how wet and sensitive you became.

"Tell me how much you hate me" Jean's voice sounded desperate and you couldn’t help another moan escaping your lips at hearing how turned on he was. Just like you. You want to make him feel good, so incredibly much...

"I hate you so much... I hate you for doing this to me" you moaned out quietly as your fingers slipped into your panties, feeling the dripping wetness he caused. And he didn't even have to touch you. It's all his fault...

"What am i doing to you, baby?" Jean's cock throbbed in his hand, immediately throwing his head back, vision becoming pitch black for a second as he heard you whimper in answer on the other side. "Holy shit..."

"I'm so wet" you almost whispered, scared to even admit it, but the urge to let him know how good he made you feel took over. Your quiet, desperate whimpers grew louder as the image of Jean touching himself became detailed in your colorful, dirty mind, and the slow circles of your fingers got faster on you unbearably sensitive clit.

Jean couldn't believe he had you like this - a hot, wet, whimpering mess. He felt like he was on cloud nine, imagining your dainty fingers playing with your sweet pussy as you listened to him, making yourself feel so good over the sounds he was making.

"I told you you're a pathetic little nerd" Jean teased you, letting out a breathy laugh, and another moan escaped your mouth as you heard the sound of him spitting, then the wet sounds of him fisting his cock in a steady pace.

Jean bit down on his lower lip, his eyes closed, completely lost in how immensely amazing this all felt while pumping his hand. Wishing it was yours instead...

"Shut up" you whined, then slipped the tip of a finger to your achingly empty, drenched hole. "This is all your fault..."

"Just let it go, pretty girl" he replied gently, his words coming out of his throat low and raspy. "Touch yourself for me"

"Jean-" rubbing your tender little knob felt like electric waves throughout your whole body, and you forgot how wrong this felt a few minutes ago. Jean became the only thing on your mind. You wanted to touch him, you wanted him to touch you.

"You like hearing me jerk off for you? Listening to your voice" words spilled out of Jean's mouth desperately, lips swollen from all the biting, his voice cracking in a whine as the mix of precum and saliva made it so easy for his fist to slide and stimulate his sensitive tip. Every wet noise, every word, every moan and whimper falling out of your sweet little mouth made him throb and he felt himself getting closer to his peak.

"Yes" you didn't even try to deny anymore. You've never felt so lost in your arousal, your fingers moving on their own in your panties, making the most wet and lewd sounds you've ever created.

"Then keep talking, baby" Jean's voice seemed almost begging, and you let out another moan hearing that pet name again. "Let me hear that wet little pussy"

You were certain the filthy sounds made by your wetness were loud enough to reach his ear, but you moved your phone a little closer to your sweet spot to make sure. “Jean it- it feels so good, you're making me feel so good"

Jean started seeing stars at the sound, stopping the movement of his hand when he almost came on the spot.

"I hate you so much, there are no words for how angry I am with you, I could explode..." your whines let him know you were also close, but he didn't want to cum just yet. He didn't want it to be over. "Do you still have that black t-shirt on?"

"I do, actually" Jean smiled, slowly palming his cock while glancing down at his shirt. He didn't know, but that day you already checked out how his shirt hugged his beautiful upper body so perfectly.

That shirt was your favorite on him.

"You're gonna paint it white for me, aren't you?" you let the filthy words pour out of your mouth without a second thought, then grinned at how good it felt. "You dirty, nasty boy"

A whine escaped Jean's lips hearing those words, and his back arched in his seat, his hand starting to pump faster on his leaky cock.

"Yeah I am" he grunted, his breathing getting heavier. "M'making a mess just for you"

"Jean-" you moaned out, his name feeling so sweet on your tongue. Blood flushed to your face, the familiar warmth of getting close to your climax. "I'm so close, baby"

"Yeah?" your soft voice sounded almost pleading, only pushing him closer to the edge with you. "Gonna cum listening to me jerk my cock for you?"

"Mhmm" you whined, dangerously close to your peak, your mind going blank as an intense feeling took over your body.

Jean knew you were seconds away from spilling, moaning so beautifully for him, unable to form words anymore. But he still didn't want it to end yet. "Tell me what your pretty little fingers are doing, angel"

"M'rubbing my pussy" you felt your face get hot as you said such dirty words out loud.

"You're rubbing your little clit for me?"

"Mhmm" you moaned in answer, and Jean closed his eyes, imagining your legs spread and pulled up, his face buried right between them, lapping up the sweet nectar leaking out of you.

"Oh my god, I wish I could push my fingers inside of you" he breathed out. "I want you to cum on my face so bad”

"Holy-" your body reacted immediately to Jean’s words, and as you imagined his face between your legs, his warm tongue swirling over your clit, you couldn’t help but letting out a high pitched moan. “Jean!”

“Cum for me, pretty girl, let it go��� Jean encouraged you gently, his hand’s movements becoming fast and sloppy at the thought of you reaching your orgasm. “I’m gonna cum for you, too”

“Mmpf, you better make a mess of yourself for me” your brain somehow found a way to form a sentence, and a second after your snarky mumble the knot growing in your core came undone, all that built up electric sensation turning into an explosion of intense pleasure. Heaven must feel like this.

And in your most heavenly moments, the only thing your mind could make you do was moan Jean’s name, chanting like it was some kind of prayer.

Jean couldn’t have helped himself, even if he wanted to. Hearing those words out of your mouth, heavy breaths and uncontrolled sounds of you moaning his name, escaping your sweet lips as you came on your pretty fingers - it was over for him. He let out a grunt as the most powerful feeling of pleasure erupted in his core. He moaned your name as he watched his arm’s movements become even sloppier.

His legs started trembling as the first few drops gushed down on his fingers, then hot cum splurted all over the black fabric of his t-shirt, just like he promised you.

“Oh my god” you whimpered, feeling your own pool of wetness with your fingers as you came down from your high. You have never experienced such an intense orgasm, although you were not able to form these thoughts yet, quite literally forgetting your name for a few seconds there.

Just like Jean. It was like a hurricane that just cleared his mind, completely blank. He parted his long fingers, sticky with his cum, his other hand still holding his phone and your sweet little sounds to his ear.

You listened to each others breathing and sighs getting less and less heavy, slowly regaining consciousness and realizing what you’ve just done.

Uh oh.

"You’re not mad at me anymore?" Jean broke the silence that seemed like long minutes, his voice low, but you could still hear that smug smirk on his face through the phone. You felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

"You’re such a fucking pervert" you muttered, and Jean let out a chuckle. “I’m killing you tomorrow. Good night”

You hung up and immediately threw your phone across the room, right onto Sasha’s empty bed. You grabbed a pillow, pushed it into your face, and a muffled scream left your mouth, but it didn’t help your frustration at all.

You wanted to see that black t-shirt of his, so, so bad…

Waking up the next day felt like a struggle. Last night, you laid wide awake for hours before finally falling asleep, only to be woken up by Sasha’s loud singing about two hours later. It was morning already and you had class together, all of you.

You dressed into the biggest, baggiest clothes you could find to hide from the world, specifically from Jean. Only Sasha was able to make you smile in such state when she broke into a laughing fit, after stepping out of the bathroom and taking a look at your outfit, calling you a “huge sack of potato”.

She didn’t know the dirty secret you were hiding, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to tell her. The embarrassment of your filthy, filthy actions was too extreme to even consider that.

That was until you saw him.

You were seated between Sasha and Connie, still hiding under your hoodie, waiting for the lecture to start, when a familiar voice hit your ears, and heat spread through your face immediately.

Jean threw himself into the chair next to Connie with a sigh. You froze, not even moving your head one bit. You felt like you could never look at him again. But you wanted to, so much.

You had to.

You carefully moved your eyes in his direction, very slowly turning your head just a little bit to steal a quick glance. Using the hood of your sweatshirt as a shield, you peeked past the hem of it - only to be met with Jean’s serious eyes staring right into yours.

You instantly bursted out laughing, your hand shooting to your mouth. All the tension snapped the moment you saw him looking at you, his eyes like stone, face troubled as if he had to leave for war the next day.

Jean’s laughter bursted out of his mouth basically at the same moment you looked into his eyes and lost it. Connie jerked his head up, almost scared, as you two cracked up out of the blue, then your laughter became louder and louder as you completely gave up, and you looked back to Jean.

“The hell’s so funny?” Connie growled, irritated by the early morning class and the apparent joke he seemed to miss.

You straight up convulsed with laughter as Jean howled, the situation being the most freaking hilarious piece of comedy you could ever imagine. Poor Connie didn’t get involved in the joke, and he sat there huffing and puffing while you and Jean were in absolute hysterics. Class became a real challenge after that, both of your bodies shaking with inaudible cackling from time to time when your eyes accidentally met.

Your stomach felt sore at the end of the lecture, but at least the embarrassed tension was nowhere to be found in your body. This was the first time Jean and you connected so blissfully in real life, and it felt so good.

Although you still seemed to deny your sudden urge to be close to him.

“Hey” a hand grabbed the sleeve of your hoodie from behind, stopping you from following Connie and Sasha, loudly bickering with each other down the hallway, now further and further away from you. The hand’s force pulled your body back, twirling you around - and meeting Jean’s body.

Some stupid butterflies decided to wake up in your stomach at the feeling of your bodies being so close, and you felt yourself blushing as you looked up at him.

“What, do you want me to call you a dumbass again?” you held back your smirk as you successfully kept your composure looking into those beautiful hazel eyes, and Jean cracked up.

“Just wanted to ask when exactly you plan on killing me” he grinned down at you, and your knees became weak right away. Fuck.

“I’ll let you live until the evening class. If I have to finish up the project for then, you won’t see tomorrow” you said with a serious tone and Jean’s grin softened to a half smile. His eyes practically sank into yours, his lids low as he looked down at you, and you felt the familiar heat spread in your body.

You basically became wet just by the way he was towering over you, his shoulders broad in front of your face, his fresh, slightly woody smell overtaking your senses and making your thoughts go hazy, one of his thighs still slightly touching yours as you stood so close to each other. Shivers ran down your spine when Jean’s other hand grabbed your other sleeve as well, then moved both of his hands down to gently brush his fingers over yours.

Your head almost dropped at the feeling.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise” he replied after the short silence with a low voice, but you were so close to him, you could still hear him over the noise of the busy corridor. The intense feeling of his eyes piercing through yours started to burn you. He must’ve felt the same burning sensation.

You wanted to kiss him so bad - and he wanted to kiss you so, so bad.

But you didn’t.

A grin grew on his face again as he watched you look up at him with big eyes, sparkling with excitement. He found you absolutely adorable. But he wasn’t gonna give you what you wanted just yet.

He wanted to tease you a little first.

“I will definitely see tomorrow, I can guarantee your smartass that” he added and you couldn’t help smiling, seeing his usual cocky smirk. Jean suddenly leaned closer to you, and tingles ran down your body as his hand slid to the side of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair, his lips almost touching your ear on the other side as his whispers felt hot on your skin. “See you later, pretty girl”

Your eyes automatically closed, your lips slightly parted at how heavenly it felt. But it was like a painfully short dream, ripped away from you in seconds as Jean just as suddenly as he touched you, let go of you and walked away.

A document containing the project’s missing parts landed in your emails a few hours later, written detailed and precise. He even included whole paragraphs of things you begged him to work on the night before, when he didn’t seem to pay any attention. Before he…

Before you shared your secret little moments with each other.

[drmslastmorning]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream breaks Technoblade's trust in prison

A lesson on trust.

Characters: Dream, Technoblade

Words: 5.2k (one-shot)

Warnings: panic attacks, canon typical violence. nothing big.

During Technoblades stay in the prison, Dream gets a little desperate to prove that he is not to be trusted.

Being with Technoblade has lifted Dream’s spirits. It's lifted them a bit much for his taste, honestly. Considering everything the other has done has been quite simple: Exist, take up already sparse food, talk far too much bullshit and annoy the hell out of him. He's not a fan of how easily the piglin hybrid can read him.

Technoblade’s involvement itself is calculated: it's within the plan, it's accounted for. He hasn't accounted for the way he'd make him smile, and distract him from the hell that is the prison.

That shouldn't be a problem in and of itself, Dream measures. He can stay focused regardless.

He doesn't know if the company is within the plan. Of course, Technoblade would've been involved eventually: For the exchange of a favor. But he's been here for a few weeks now. At least, that's what Dream presumes from what little sense of time he's gotten left. He couldn't know for sure and the realization that he couldn't tell leaves his tail swaying nervously. It's somehow easier to sit with your thoughts on your own. Correction: it's easier to ignore them on your own. It's easier to dissociate when someone isn't constantly chatting or snoring your ear off.

Dream doesn't sleep. Technoblade does it far too much. He guesses it's how the other planned on passing the time, and it's not really a bad bet. It's not like there is much else to do. It gives Dream something to do: Study everything there is about Technoblade. Not really intentionally, of course. He's not intending to stare, but could you blame him, when he's the only positive interaction he's had in so long?

The piglin hybrid sleeps messily. Loudly . He eats a lot, and he knows just how to get on his nerves. Though, he guesses he was already well aware of the last two. They've shared a few meals and more arguments.

Dream's passed out only very few times in the time Technoblade has been here, to the point the latter is unsure he's seen it at all. He prefers it that way.

"What are you, anyways?" Rings the question and Dream knows the other didn't miss the way he flinches at the sudden sound. "W-what's that supposed to mean." He says it like a dismissive statement, much less like a question. It's clear he understood exactly what Technoblade means, but doesn't intend to respond unless further clarified. He knows he doesn't pry. "Y'know." Pink hair messily falls over his shoulder. He undid the braid a while ago, and redid it at least 20 times since then.

Dream does know. The pen slips out of his fingers and he curses under his breath as it draws a messy line across the paper, him desperately reaching for it not helping.

"I don't," he lies, "you're distracting me."

Technoblade raises an eyebrow, toys with a potato that he's sure is going to start growing mold within the next 24 hours. "Species-wise, of course." While Dream's gotten a very good look of the other, the piglin hybrid has been kept very.. in the dark, to say the least. Dream makes sure to hide his face, and Techno hasn't attempted to catch a glance whenever he was distracted enough. He'd feel like he's intruding, if he did. Surely there's a reason he always wore that mask, after all. It's rude, he's concluded. "You haven't really let me catch a glance."

"What's it matter to you?" He mumbles, retrieving the pen and annoyedly smudging at the ink that's now splotched all over the paper. Smudging it more isn't really helping, weirdly enough.

"It's something to talk about, Dream." 

"I don't feel like talking."

"I know. You never do. It's kinda your thing." He snorts.

"That's-- that's not true. You know that's not true. I just- You already made me ruin this whole page."

"Put that thing down for 5 minutes, Dream. I'm pretty sure we've got plenty of time for you to finish that."

It looks like he's right, but somehow, sometimes Dream fears, he might blink, and Technoblade might disappear into thin air. 

"Fine." Dream hisses through gritted teeth, closing the book to set it aside. He leaves the pen amidst the pages to keep note of where he was. "Your tail reminds me of Ranboo’s." Techno remarks, and as if on command, it whips against cold obsidian and then curls up to hide behind his back. "What- are you just going to- analyze things about me?"

"Well, you're not telling me."

"That's still, like, weird." Dream argues, shaking his head. Something about it makes him really uncomfortable. Something about it is something he didn't account for and it makes him nervous.

"Man, you've been eyeing me up and down the entire time and I can't even catch a quick glance." He snickers at the immediate physical rise he gets out of Dream. 

" WHAT?? " Oh, that blush is obvious. "I've- You're an idiot, I've literally-" Dream stumbles over his words, messy locks not disguising enough of his face to hide his expression. 

"You're- You're stupid. You're just- you're just saying things. That's not even true!" 

"I don't know bro, for an innocent man you're getting real defensive."

"I'm not-- That's not-- I literally have not been doing that." Defeatedly, Dream taps his foot against the obsidian, knees dragged to his chest.

"Uh-huh." Technoblade nods, beginning to redo his braid for the third time that day. 

"Fuck yourself, seriously, Techno. I don't even know where- where you got that from."

"Maybe from the guy who's been eyeing me up and down."

" I HAVE NOT??? " (Dream’s heart beats in his ears and it tastes bitter and it's uncalculated and it makes no sense and he has to remind himself to breathe.) And it beats. And it beats. And it beats.

"So, what are you?"

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" Dream responds, annoyed. "I'm curious and bored." Technoblade answers, too honestly. Too honestly for Dream’s taste. Dream hasn't planned for this. Dream doesn't like the way he sees through him. "The answer- the answer is going to disappoint you, then." He gnaws on his lip for a moment. "Because I don't- I don't actually know ."

Techno raises an eyebrow curiously. He snorts. "You seriously don't, huh?"

"Yeah- uh- why the hell- why would I lie about that?"

"Uh, I mean, you've got the same tail as Ranboo." Techno deduces. "And he's an Enderman. I think?" He shakes his head. "But you're also not really letting me see anything else."

"You're being weird." Dream pushes, hiding his face in his knees.

"Not any weirder than you."

"Can I see your face?" Techno asks, and is surprised by his own question.

"What???" Dream returns, almost instinctively letting more hair fall into his face. 

"Your face." He presses, shifting with his coat. "I wanna see your face. It's been so long since I last did."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." Technoblade shrugs, feigning disinterest. Maybe he's just curious. Maybe there's more to it. Dream hates the way he can't tell and he hates the way it makes his heart beat and he hates the way he squirms uncomfortably and he hates the way the proposed intimacy makes him feel and he hates it.

Dream catches his heart in his throat and chokes it with both of his hands.

"No." He responds, met by a dejected, "awwwh", from the piglin hybrid. "Just a quick glance."

"No." He repeats, with more tone in his voice.

"Just a quick one."

"I said no." Dream cringes, crossing his arms. "It's not like I've never seen it before." Techno shrugs.

"Be satisfied with that, then."

"What's the big deal?"

"We're not friends, Techno." His tone of voice seems insincere, but he wants it to be true. They aren't friends. This is purely transactional. Technoblade is here to rescue him on account of a favor. Something is going wrong with whatever he's got planned and now he's trapped here for the time being. It doesn't mean anything. 

"Ow." Technoblade shuffles, moves as if something stabbed him. It's dramatics, Dream reminds himself. He's being dramatic. "First off, that hurts." It doesn't, Dream reminds himself. It's theatrics. It's to pass the time, it's to make him feel secure, it's to fool him, it's to- he doesn't know. Make him forget the plan?

"Second off, it's rude. I thought we've been having a real bonding moment here." Technoblade doesn't mean that, Dream reminds himself. "Well- boohoo." He fiddles with his fingers, with the book in his hands. "We're not friends." He has to emphasize that. (lest he forgets. lest he forgets that that too, is part of the plan.)

"I thought we were." Techno reiterates. "I mean, you've been watching me sleep. Would be real weird if we weren't friends."

"Oh my God, Technoblade. I have not-" He cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. He gives up. It's obvious he's just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't understand the point. It's distracting. It's going off the plan. It defies everything Dream did this for. He feels dizzy.

"C'mon Dream, I know you're still grumpy I keep calling you homeless, but I'd say we're friends."

"I'm not- I'm not homeless." (you're the one who kept not believing me I've got a big house filled with Redstone.) The thought makes him laugh bitterly.

Techno raises an eyebrow at the clear silent conversation Dream just had in his head. Some voices tell him something, but they sound drowned. The lack of food is beginning to mess with him bad, Techno eats a lot normally, so while he's not opposed to the potato diet itself, he's really been trying to cut down. If not only to not take away the little food Dream has.

Techno really doesn't like the way Sam clearly doesn't mind feeding him as much - considering he literally even gave him cooked potatoes when he asked for it. (it's all to starve Dream.)

"I know, I know. We're roommates right now, remember?" He snorts, which leads into an amused grunt, then translates into him holding out a baked potato in Dreams direction. "You want some?"

"... What."

"It's baked. Should be better than uh, y’know, the ones you've been chowing down." He gestures at Dream’s stack, which is honestly beginning to show mold.

"Why- how is it- where did you-" Dream stumbles and he looks so extremely bewildered Techno can't help but sneak a little fond smile. (Dream doesn't recognize it as such. His gasping heart categorizes it as him making fun of him.)

"I asked and Sam gave them to me. Under the condition I don't give you any."

Dream frowns. Deeply. He shakes his head. "Under the condition you don't give me any." He repeats, in a tone that makes Techno sick. Wipes the smile off his face and replaces it with a frown. "Hey man, it's not like Sam's gonna know."

"He'll know ." Dream reiterates, shaking his head. He feels sick. Sick. Sick. Resisting everything in himself to not knock it out of Techno’s hand.

"I mean, I'm not telling him. Are you?"

"If- if he asks , if I-if." He stutters over his words, he despises the frown on Techno’s lips. He's not disobeying Sam for some stupid- some potatoes. He could handle himself. The clear favoritism gets to his head, and he needs to turn away so he doesn't just grab the potato and throw it into the lava. Or better yet, he's throwing himself in it next.

Techno sighs. "Alright, man. Just thought I'd offer." He rolls his shoulders, then wordlessly eats it. He's honestly worried Dream might just starve to death one of these days. He certainly doesn't look good.

Dream’s heart beats in his ears. He wishes he could bang his head against the wall until he made a big enough hole for it to escape. Wishes he could reach through his own mouth and pull it up by its bits and pieces and squeeze it until there is finally no feeling left.

In the end he does none of that. In the end he frowns at Techno and doesn't say anything else. In the end he reaches his hands into his hair and tugs until he feels a few strands coming loose. 

"You're- driving me crazy." He hisses. And it's unreasonable. And it's a weird mood swing from the Dream who was just confused then horrified and is now- maybe jealous isn't the right word, but he doesn't find any better ones to describe what he is feeling. Speaking of feeling, he hates the way his heart jumps in his mouth when Techno looks at him with that stupid snort. That stupid big nose ring, and those stupid big ears, and those stupid big tusks that hang upwards out of his mouth and-

Breathe. Breathe. "Man, I'm just being friendly." Techno says and it snaps a cord. "You're not! Friendly. You're A- annoying , you're, you're taking up already sparse food, you're, you're clearly being favorited by- mi- by the wa- by Sam -" He tugs and he tugs and he tugs and maybe this way he can get rid of this stupid long hair. "All this has achieved is- you're just stuck here now, too . Why the hell didn't you realize it was a trap? I didn't want you to get involved! You have- you- aaaaah!" He groans, frustrated, tired, exhausted, hungry, and for the first time in the while he's been stuck here he seriously wishes he had died already.

It's stupid. It's such a stupid thing to want to give up over. (was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it.) He thinks he hears Techno say something but it's dampened by the dread that's surrounding him. Maybe he's having a panic attack. Maybe he's having two. Maybe three. four five six seven eight-- he's been doing so well holding himself together but now he's crashing he's falling apart he's grasping at the pieces of a knocked over 3D puzzle and it does little to put it back together.

He's been doing so well smiling and talking with Technoblade whenever Quackity wasn't here he's been doing so well and he's been doing too well and it's exactly why he's tripping all over himself and falling and falling and falling --

It's a harrowing realization. That scaling any mountain is going to involve so much tripping and falling in the future. And it's more harrowing to him that he's decided to do it all alone. It's better that way, he tells himself, but for a moment, Dream would rather be dead than alone.

Maybe, if he gave up, while Technoblade, while Quackity- while it's- while he's not- while- while there's someone there- while he's not alone- while- if he gave up now, at least someone would be by his side while he did-

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. In, and out, and Dream hears a voice, guiding him, and he's breathing.

Breathe. Breathe. He closes his eyes. It's dark, and it's orange from the light of the lava and he's just barely catching himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he can breathe again. He sees pink strands and his first instinct is to--

He reaches out and tugs on Technoblade’s already messy enough braid. "Ow! Is that the thanks I get????? Ow- ow- Dream that hurts-" And he tugs and he tugs and he tugs and it's enough Technoblade has to stop awkwardly hovering his big hands around Dream's and instead grab onto them, halting the other’s out-of-nowhere violence. " Good ." Dream hisses, and it's venomous, it's almost- uncharacteristic. Techno pulls his eyebrows together and frowns. "You good? You had a little- panic attack there. And now you're attacking me! Scandalous."

Momentarily, Dream is taken aback by the piglin hybrid’s antics. Only momentarily, because as soon as he manages to wipe the way his expression cringes at his own actions off his face, he's back to pulling his hands out of Technoblade’s, taking one, two, three, too many steps towards the lava and almost falling backwards into it. He stumbles, and has to catch himself on the side of the wall. The lava is sizzling so closely behind him he's unsure if some of his hair, or his clothes might already be catching fire. He nudges just a little bit away from it, although he really wishes he could just let himself fall backwards. 

He could, he reckons. No better time than now. No better time than when he's not alone with Sam and Quackity with the warden and sir with the violence and torture and-

His head spins. Technoblade says something again but hovers awkwardly out of his reach. Good. Good. This is better. That's how it's supposed to be. Transactional. As soon as they're out of here Technoblade will abandon him. That's how this was intended. He'll make himself heavy enough of a burden that even Techno will hesitate to dare put that strain on his back. That hesitation will be enough, he hopes. He is sure it will be enough. He closes his eyes, breathing. He should breathe, Technoblade is right. He opens his eyes again and his eyes search for Technoblade, who's looking at him with such a stupid expression of pity (and concern and worry and so many things Dream isn't sure he's identifying right and so many things that Dream hopes he is wrong about.).

Dream prays he is wrong about these things. Because God strike him down if he is right. God if he has to face that possibility.

He isn't sure how much time passes. He isn't sure how long they're just staring at each other. 

--

"You better now?", Technoblade says after a long silence, attempting to approach him. Very slowly. As if he's afraid Dream might just stumble backwards into the lava if he startles him like a scared deer. Bitterly, Dream laughs. "Yeah", he catches himself, "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. You have the strength of a toddler."

" WHAT??? " That gets to Dream’s head worse than Technoblade probably intends it to, when Dream stumbles over himself and almost catches fire on the lava. Techno snorts, lifting a hand to move it in a manner that's supposed to make him calm down but is only irritating him more. "You're- you're fucking insufferable, Technoblade ." Dream draws a breath through barely parted lips and for a moment he wants to cry. 

The piglin sighs. "You know, I've been really patient, but you're making me curious. What happened? Since when are you so-- dead set on pushing everyone away? I mean, I heard Punz betrayed you, which must've sucked- but, Dream, I clearly don't mean you any ha-"

"Fuck off, Technoblade."

"Eh?"

"Fuck off." He reiterates, and he is so, so close to ending it all he needs to remind himself that part of the plan is that he stays alive. Part of the plan is that his heart keeps beating. Maybe he can respawn at least though. It's bitter. He threw himself in that lava a lot when there was nothing to do and the pain of burning alive was, funnily enough, the only thing keeping him sane. "We're not friends. We're not roomies. We're not- You weren't supposed to be here. You're so fucking- stupid- walking into that obvious trap."

Technoblade's vision swims, before it refocuses on Dream and he raises an eyebrow. "Dream- You do know I knew that, right?"

"Right. Right. And that's why you haven't gotten out. That's why you're still stuck here with me annoying me and trying to get under my skin all the goddamn time-"

"Well, I mean, some things went wrong. I'll be out here in no time, though."

(I, I, I, I, I)

I, I, I, I, I

It echoes in Dream’s head. He stares. " We ?" He whispers, it's hopeful, it's meek, and it's such a sudden change from the way he was just yelling.

"Uh, yeah. We. You're getting out of here, Dream."

They exchange looks. Stares. He's too busy reading every pore on Technoblade’s face to be distracted by the fact that he's doing the same to him. He stares at Technoblade’s pink eyes as if they have the answer to every question he's ever had. He hears his heart beat again and has such a visceral reaction to it; he bites down on his lip, balling his fists.

"I don't believe that. I don't trust you for a second."

The piglin hybrid sighs, toying with his coat to his braid, undoing it, since Dream messed it up anyways. "Right. I'm really beginning to believe that." 

Dream thinks he hears sarcasm in that tone but he's not sure. He's not sure of any emotion he reads on Technoblade and it horrifies him. Quackity is so much easier to read: and Sam isn't too difficult to read too, he'd say. They're pretty similar, he'd concluded a while ago. 

Quackity wears his heart on his sleeve. Observing him is like you're reading a picture book. Whereas with Technoblade he isn't quite sure he's got a heart in the first place. He isn't sure what he thinks of that conclusion. He isn't sure it's logical. Maybe it makes no sense to interpret it that way, he can't justify dehumanizing Technoblade to himself, but neither can he the way he got addicted to burning in the lava.

"What exactly am I supposed to do to make you-- ' trust ' me?" The Blade speaks up and Dream continues watching him for another roughly 20 seconds, not breaking eye contact. He's finally noticed that he's also eyeing him over and it makes something akin to horror crawl down his back. It settles on his spine and whispers to him. He can't make out exactly what it's saying but he knows it's gripping at the edges of his heart. It's digging its nails in and the only reason it's yet to bleed is that they are still in. Like a stab wound, it'll bleed so much more once removed. But it's bleeding either way.

Either way leads to death.

"Want me to prove I trust you? Do a little trust-fall?"

Dream’s face cringes at the way Technoblade snorts. "I- what - no way- I don't trust you and even if you trusted me, there's no way I can- catch you- in my current state."

"I'm going to be honest, Dream, I don't think you would've been very capable of it previously, either."

"You're----- You're really trying to make me hate you." Dream mumbles, kicking the floor, in a similar fashion as to he would before, and Technoblade takes it as a positive sign. He smiles fondly and it irritates Dream to no end.

The piglin hybrid shrugs. "Eh, sure. I'm not sure I can convince you otherwise, anyways." 

Something stings but Dream can't identify it. Briefly, he wonders if the other feels something like that, too. Then he crosses that thought out, because he knows that the Blade doesn't own a heart that feels. 

His brain rationalizes the dehumanization in a desperate attempt to drown his own feelings. It's not rational and he knows this, but he's horrified that if he looks at Technoblade like he's a person for too long he might forget the plan.

He wants to choke himself out for going down this path alone. But it's the only way to keep them safe. (dehumanizing Technoblade isn't keeping him safe. it's the very thing that's ended him up in this position. the very reason he can't just sit in his cabin and rest. The very reason he's right here and associated with Dream is because they're the same, the same, the same .) 

Dream can't read Technoblade. But maybe he just doesn't want to. Maybe the other is written in a foreign language that Dream couldn't possibly have knowledge of in his young and naive years.

The admin sighs tiredly. 

"You can't. I don't trust you and it's not like you truly trust me either." Dream huffs a laugh. "You trust me to keep you alive. For my own gain." He gestures at the lava, then at Technoblade. "Since I'm not going anywhere without you. But maybe you will just leave without me."

Techno frowns. Even to Dream it's obvious this conversation is getting tiring. Maybe he's beginning to regret getting under his skin, maybe he's regretting constantly running his mouth, maybe he's considering just going to sleep for the rest of his stay here. Dream doesn't know because maybe after all this time, he's finally forgotten how to read. He isn't even sure he can read himself anymore. 

"I mean, yeah, maybe I will. You're not really making it enticing to take you along." Techno exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I'd say you should know I wouldn't actually do any of that, but maybe I misread you."

None of that sounds like anything Technoblade would say. Good, Dream thinks, he's listening. He's not completely dense. He's not completely naive. Of course, the plan is still for the other to take him along. "W-well, you've got a favor to pay back. Technoblade pays back favors."

"Uh-huh."

"And that's all this is."

"Right."

Dream can't decode the bitter way Techno nods. He doesn't understand the way his throat slowly closes up and he feels like he's choking. He concludes it's been plugged by his heart again and he hates the very way the Blade puts even his organs in a disarray. It's irregular. Makes no sense.

"R-right." He repeats Technoblade’s word, glancing away. 

"Hey, you let me see your face."

"No I didn't."

"You did." 

"I didn't fucking allow you to." Dream crosses his arms, frowns. Techno shrugs, looking at Dream again. The other doesn't look away. "Yeah, but you're still letting me look."

It's not fair. It's not. It's not fair. He can't even rebuke that one. He's tired.

"You've got a lot of freckles." Techno muses, with such a stupid, stupid fond smile. (this isn't part of the plan. Isn't part of the plan.) "Your cheeks are- fuzzy." He snorts and Dream wants to deck him in the face. ( shut up. Shut up. Shut up .) "And your eyes rat you out."

Don't get him involved. Don't get him involved. Stick to the plan. Don't do that to him. Stick to the plan.

It's not worth it. If he changes the plan now- he can't. The plan has to be the way it is. Punz is bad enough. This is bad enough. Dream suddenly feels so powerless that it's crushing.

"And what stupid things do you think they're saying?"

"I don't know." Techno shrugs now, taking a step towards Dream. Cautiously, as if he fears he might startle him and send him into the lava. "Maybe they're desperate." He guesses, stops just out of Dream’s reach. Dream bites his lip bloody.

"Yeah. Desperate to get you to shut up. Get things under control and get us out of here." He grumbles, fists balling. (for a moment, he imagines himself reaching his hand into the lava, cupping it, and then throwing it at Technoblade. He wonders if his hand would last enough for that, or if the lava would burn through quicker. He wonders if that could kill him.)

He wonders how much of it would hit Techno, or if he'd dodge. If he'd call him insane, or if he'd be worried. If he'd be worried for his own safety, or Dream's, or both.

"I'm at it! I'm at it. Someone's really impatient." Techno lifts his hands defensively. "You're the one who designed this thing so- inescapable." Dream licks the blood off his lips, tail flicking behind him. "It'd kind of defeat the purpose if it wasn't." 

The piglin hybrid only nods. Dream only returns a nod. They're silent, observing each other as if they are reading a book.

Dream decides he needs to rip his pages out of Techno’s book. He takes a deep breath, looks directly at the other’s face. 

"Come over here." He croaks out, embarrassed, clears his throat after. "Come here." He repeats, clearer now.

For a moment, Dream hoped he'd see hesitation in Technos gaze. He sees something, Techno does need a second to listen, but he doesn't see hesitation. He doesn't know what he's seeing. (Worry? Care? Concern?) Concern, for his own or Dream’s or both of their safety.

Technoblade listens and everything in Dream’s body was hoping he wouldn't. He'd hoped he wouldn't. But now he's standing in front of him, left of him lava bubbles. It's hot and unbearable to him, but Dream knows it's like second nature to the piglin hybrid. 

"Do you trust me?" Dream asks, it's flat. The croak in his voice disappeared, it's just cold now. He can't read the expression on Technoblade’s face. He doesn't like the way he frowns. He doesn't like the way he has to break his neck to look him in the face when they are so close together. 

"What's this?"

"No, shut up, answer the question." Dream shakes his head when Techno tries to gain knowledge on his intent. That won't work. That won't work. He made a plan and he's sticking by it.

Techno sighs. Rolls his shoulders. Then nods. Smiles. "Yeah, well, I do."

(I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do. It repeats in Dream’s ears until it turns to venom until it takes over every part of his brain until he can't hear anything else until it tastes bitter and bile and he wishes he could throw up.)

Everything in Dream hoped he'd say no. Everything in Dream hoped he'd say no.

He doesn't breathe for a good minute. Then he holds out his hand. His hand, small, burned, injured. There's little cuts and scars everywhere. He still has all of his fingers, but he is afraid he won't soon enough. "Okay. If you take my hand and close your eyes, do you trust me to not hurt you?" He continues, and his heart deflates when Technoblade listens. He hoped he wouldn't.

He hoped he'd make a snarky comment and refuse. But he doesn't even give him a snarky comment. The piglin hybrid's hand almost completely engulfs his own and Dream feels so small and helpless and weak, all of a sudden. It's like Technoblade is unknowingly pulling the carpet out from under his feet. It's like the obsidian beneath him disappeared. (The hand-holding is weirdly comforting and suddenly Dream wants to abandon everything he thought of, everything he planned. if he could just fall forward and-)

He grips Technoblade’s hand. Harsh. He's not sure where he draws the strength from, considering he hasn't even eaten one potato today. And he isn't even sure he ate one yesterday. He squeezes it, and for a moment, it may come across comforting, or comfortable, or-

Then he violently tugs on the other’s hand. Then he draws both of them towards the lava. Then, suddenly, both of their hands are touching lava. (Dream's barely is. Technoblade’s hand engulfs his almost completely, but he's probably more fire resistant than he is. He braces himself, grits his teeth, burn, burn, burn, burn, everything in himself is screaming to take it all back, to reverse time, to-)

"Let this be a lesson not to, in the future."

[mymarifae]

i think the most important thing in the world is vbs being best friends who love each other so much and are super affectionate with each other like. listen to me:

- when toya hugs kohane he'll pick her up a tiny bit (a tiny bit is all he can manage. noodle arms) and she squeals with delight every time

- toya just really likes hugs in general. it's suuuuper common for him to just come up behind akito or an or kohane and wrap his arms around them and lean his head against theirs. hello and goodbye hugs with him always last a good 20 seconds because he won't let go sdjfjsnfkd

- kohane loooooves to tuck her hand in the crooks of her teammates' elbows while they're walking together. this way she won't get lost <3 sometimes she'll hold onto like, akito's elbow with one hand and an's with the other. it's very cute. and as vbs has grown closer, she's started to switch to hand holding. (don't tell anyone but akito's her favorite to hold hands with because he swings their arms as they walk and it's cute)

- also, kohane's hair tends to be messy because of her damn hats and this bugs akito so he spends a lot of time fussing over it. he'll just sort of...tug her closer and take out the pigtails and comb through it with his fingers. at some point she starts packing a brush in her bag to placate him. i like to think akito knows how to do hair because ena will sometimes make him do hers so after a while he stops just rebrushing kohane's hair and starts pulling it up in different ways... braiding it... etc... and he starts keeping things like hairspray in His bag. yknow. jic

- the hairstyling extravaganza extends to an and toya too. (i mean there's only so much akito can do with toya but he tries...) it's a calming thing for him - fiddling with his teammates' hair as they plan setlists or wait backstage. and having your hair played with is always nice <3

- i think shortly after teaming up an started giving kohane little kisses on the cheek. not as a romantic gesture - just simple affection! and after a while, she starts kissing toya and akito too. toya is always happy to lean down so she can pepper his face with little platonic kisses, but she usually has to wrestle akito. it's all in good fun and he'll always relent and let her kiss him in the end

- speaking of platonic kisses, i ALSO think that akito gives toya little kisses from time to time. it started back when they were still BAD DOGS. toya wasn't having a great time one night and after soothing him with a good sturdy hug, akito kissed the top of his head. it completely floored toya and akito blew up when he realized what he did. and they never fucking talked about it <3 but since toya didn't seem MAD about it, akito decided to stick with it and kept giving toya kisses like that. it's not common, and he ONLY does it when they're alone. except for when they make up after their little divorce arc in the main story. IGNORE the gunjo sanka mv and listen to me. they HUG after their heart to heart. and akito kisses toya's cheek. right around where he punched him

- but an's overaffectionate nature kind of rubs off on akito after a while. so he becomes less stingy when it comes to kisses and starts giving them to kohane and an too <3

- they lean against each other while sitting like kohane might cuddle into toya's side or an goes and lays her head on akito's shoulder

- and they have sleepovers and they fall asleep comfortably tangled up together (or not comfortably. at all. seriously cuddling while sleeping can get so uncomfy but it's worth it to be so close to someone you love). ken's taken quite a few adorable (and sometimes really funny) pictures of all four of them passed out on piles of blankets and futons. just dad things

i could go on forever it's just. platonic affection is so important to me and it's so frequently Ignored in fandom spaces. and in the case of vbs and the prsk fandom specifically, there's a tendency to separate vbs into akitoya VS anhane. which is so 💔 because the whole POINT of their story is that while they started off as separate duos, that's no longer the case! they've become such good friends. they're inseparable.

like even jokes about akito and an being "wlw and mlm hostility" are starting to wear on me because... they're friends, guys. they're incredibly close. akito is always looking out for an and is right by her side to support her through all the shit she's currently struggling with. there's no "hostility" present in their relationship. like, if you actually look at the game's text, an... rarely teases akito. the person who teases him the most is actually toya but you know... whatever... gotta reduce an down to a mean lesbian amirite... completely ignoring that she's one of the kindest characters in the whole game...

idk. i juuuuuust wish that this fandom wasn't so defensive and obsessive over shipping akitoya and anhane (mostly akitoya while anhane is a second thought but YOU KNOW) because it results in so many people watering down vbs as individuals And as pairs - because all they care about is shipping. like i promise that the other dynamics in vbs are worth exploring (both platonicallyand romantically but too much of this fandom still feels threatened by m/f vbs ships). and hell, explore akitoya and anhane on a platonic level, too! don't just jump to shipping them because teehee boyxboy and girlxgirl. take the time to understand what draws them together in the first place

i love friendship. i love when friends outwardly express their affection for each other and it doesn't have to have any romantic implications. can we talk about friendship for once like this game is literally The Ultimate Friendship Simulator feat. Hatsune Miku

[softieekayy]

Sweet treat

Vincent Renzi x reader

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: the dialogue is italicized because my French isn’t good enough (yet) to right proper dialogue.

Moments like these were precious to Vincent. These quiet serene moments where the only sound was the chirping of birds and the soft, mellow music in the background that accompanied it. He liked to light a cigarette, lean into his chair as he sat on his small balcony, looking out to the sky and the street below him.

However what captured his attention more was the cute little baker from across from him.

Vincent noticed that she often started her day early, rushing into the store as if her pants were on fire, hair unkempt and a cigarette dangling from her lips as the long winter coat protected her from the harsh wind. Vincent often donned a smile seeing her. He saw himself in her. The way the hair was messy and the cigarette, she was just another version of him. One that he so desperately wanted to know.

He watched her now, eyes squinting slightly as the silver haired man waited for his mystery woman to arrive. She was late today but Vincent swore up and down that he wasn’t stalking her. No, he’d never do that. He’d just familiarized himself with her routine. It wasn’t much different from his own. Up at such ungodly hours doing lord knows what.

This time though, she felt him watching. The clearly disheveled woman could feel eyes on her a couple months ago yet she chose to ignore it. Until she caught a glimpse of possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. The young woman let a small smile graced her lips as he looked up at him, eyes squinting from the sun that decided to peek out today. He wasn’t looking at her then, no. He was looking ahead, not even in her direction. Deciding that she was running late already, the woman headed into the shop, quite unaware of Vincent’s watchful eyes.

Days went by yet neither of them made any moves. (Y/n) watched him occasionally, admiring the way his silver hair fell over his forehead. He looked like a cat. A very beautiful cat. She wanted to know the man yet she couldn’t exactly match up to him and ask questions. Her nose crinkled at the thought of being so invasive. Vincent, ever the recluse, watched her from his balcony, a cigarette in his mouth. He wanted to introduce himself to her and get to know her, possibly at dinner but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Watching him again?” A voice, Helene’s voice, interrupted the young woman from her thoughts. She turned her head slightly to look at the older woman standing in front of her, a teasing smile on her face and arms crossed.

(Y/n) scoffed. “No, I’m just… admiring the weather.” Her voice held uncertainty. Helene laughed, the young woman couldn’t lie to save a life.

“Mhm, because the weather is stunning today.” It wasn’t. The weather was horrible, not a peak of sunshine. It was just strong wind and clouds looking like they’re about to bless the ground with snow.

“Yeah. I can’t wait for the inevitable snow storm we’ll have.” The younger woman replied sarcastically, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She’d done it nicely today, two braids on both sides.

Helene looked up at the man, his name still unknown to both of them.

“He is quite beautiful.” She sighed, taking in Vincent’s form and earning herself a jab in the rib from her coworker.

“Come. Stop being distracted, we have work to do.” (Y/n) tells her, pulling the older woman in by her arm, leaving Vincent unbeknownst to their conversation.

The older man retreated into his apartment, it wasn’t a very small one. It was nice, well, nice enough for him. Two bedrooms, one used as an office while the other one looked like it had barely been slept in. He rubbed his eyes, trying to drive away the tiredness that seeped through his bones and into his head. Vincent looked over to the pile of files he had to sort through, sighing, he went over to brew himself a nice, warm cup of coffee.

“Fuck.” Vincent muttered, seeing the sputtering of the old machine. He sighed, rubbing his forehead in agitation. He knew he should’ve replaced the damn machine months ago but he didn’t. And now he’s seeing the fruit of his labour. Maybe today was his lucky day. Maybe he’d get to talk to the cute owner of the coffee shop. The older man exhaled deeply, pulling on a black sweater, one of his nicer ones along with a black trench coat.

The weather didn’t seem to be letting up soon and he wasn’t fond of freezing.

Vincent made his way down the stairs of his apartment, walking across the street and towards the shop. He stopped for a minute, breathing deeply, he didn’t want to come across as a stalker and he sincerely hoped that the cute girl didn’t notice his obvious staring. He pulled the door open, walking into the shop, surprised to see it busy.

“Oh my god.” Helene whispered, her jaw dropping as she noticed the silver haired man walk in. She nudges the younger woman beside her.

“What?” (Y/n) asked her, not in the mood to listen to another one of Helene’s rants on the cute guy that just walked in. (Y/n) stood up from where she was crouching and turned to look in Helene’s line of direction, only for her jaw to drop as well. The man that she had been admiring for the past few weeks was even more beautiful up close. His hair fell so perfectly over his forehead and the sweater he wore just did something for him. Not that he wasn’t perfect already.

Vincent looked at her, eyes crinkling as a small smile donned his lips as he made his way up to the counter.

“Hello.” Vincent greeted her politely, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. God she was even more beautiful up close. Big doe eyes looking up at him from behind the counter making him forget why he was here in the first place.

“Oh hello! Welcome to Café of Curiosity! How can I help you today?” The young woman chirped happily, looking at Vincent. Well, she wasn’t really looking, she was admiring him. Vincent lost his train of thoughts for a small second. He wanted to hear her voice for the rest of his life.

“Café of Curiosity?” He asked.

“Mhm. It’s because there’s many coffee flavors that intrigue curiosity that we offer!” Helene chirps in and both of them turn to look at her. (Y/n) shooting her a sharp glare while the older man just looks at her and nods before turning his attention to the woman before him.

“Right then. I’ll just get a plain black coffee and a croissant, please.” Vincent tells the young woman in front of him, nodding at his choices.

“Going for the basics?” She asks, not looking up at him from the screen. Vincent hums in answer.

“Right… May I grab a name for the order?” She asks him kindly, offering him a sugary sweet smile.

“Oh I’m sorry! It’s Vincent.” (Y/n) laughed at his expression, a deer in headlights. Vincent felt warmth rush up to his neck and into his cheeks, no doubt looking like a beetroot. He’s sure he’s embarrassed himself and ruined all his chances while the woman opposite him thought that he was endearing and charming, in an awkward way. She nodded and gestured for him to wait by the other side of the counter.

“He’s cute, no?” Helene nudged the younger girl who only smiled. Helene knew though, she always knew. She looked up at the man, Vincent, who was looking at her co-worker and smiled.

“Well, I’m not handing him his order.” Helene exclaimed, moving to greet the person at the counter.

“What why?!” (Y/n) asked, eyebrows furrowed together and a small pout on her lips.

“Because, my dear, I doubt I’m the one he’s here to see.” Helene winked, pushing the younger girl forward gently. Vincent smiled awkwardly, fiddling with his phone, opening the photos app and settings, trying to look like he was doing something other than staring.

“Vincent!” She called out, capturing his attention. The said man looked up at her, smiling. He seemed to be doing a lot of that near her. He went up to the counter to grab his drink and croissant, hands briefly touching.

“Oh, thank you!” He responded, grabbing his coffee off the counter. The younger woman nodded her head in response. Having nothing else to say, he awkwardly turned around and left, cursing himself for not saying more. Inside the café, (Y/n) was doing the same, shaking her head in disapproval at her stupidity for not saying anything.

“You know, he’s still outside.” Helene pointed out, seeing the mop of silver waiting for the light to turn green. (Y/n) looked at her before smirking, she grabbed a tiramisu, tossing it in a box before running out.

“Vincent!” The young woman yelled out, waving her hand for him to pause, and he did. Vincent halted in his tracks, waiting for the woman to catch up.

“You forgot this.” She panted out, one hand holding the box out to him while the other was on her knee, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh… I didn’t order this.” He told her, trying to turn it down, thinking that she had mistaken him for someone else.

“Think of it as a treat! From me to you.” She told him, shoving the box in his hands and bolting before he had a chance to say anything else. The older man huffed out a small laugh at their interaction and made his way home, not thinking much of it. On his short walk home, he couldn’t get the sound of her voice out of his head.

Vincent Renzi was utterly enamoured by this siren of a woman.

He set the box down, opening it up only to see something that surprised him. Inside the box was the woman’s phone number and name.

“Call me… or not.” He whispered out loud, laughing a bit. He hadn’t even known her properly yet she was already weaseling her way into his heart. He saved the number in his phone, not quite ready to shoot her a text yet.

This had to be the best day possible for him. All because he forgot to replace his stupid coffee maker.

Deciding that the weather wasn’t going to change its mind anytime soon, Vincent decided to drink and work outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Only to see that she was waiting for him, in the window of her café, waving at him shyly before signaling her hand into a phone. Vincent nodded, truly intending to know the woman more, hopefully over a nice dinner and a glass of wine. She smiled before turning on her heels and rushing back to the café.

Oh dear, he hadn’t even known her yet he was in so deep.

Tagging: @caramel-hufflepuff @weird-civilian @hypocritic-trash-baby @ynguklvr @jake-g-lockley

[xoxozoro]

can i take your order?

synopsis: you are barista

characters: chifuyu, mitsuya, kazutora

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

masterlist.

chifuyu :

chifuyu was living a cliché. he knew it, his friends knew it and probably all of the regular customers of the small coffee shop knew it.

but could you really blame him?

you were just so... pretty...

with your lips of a lively pink, your cheeks full and bright, your eyes so mesmerizing that he could stare at them for hours and your hair that were pulled back into two messy braids with your loose strands of hair that swept back and forth over your face.

what was there to not like about you?

"chifuyu...? are you there?"

your angelic voice brought him back to earth, his cheeks covered of a small red hue at the sound of his name coming from your mouth, "y-yeah?"

you let out a soft chuckle at his stuttering, a smile plastered on your lips, "the usual?"

"yes, please"

he first started to talk to the pretty girl behind the counter when he first found the coffee shop. ever since that day, after weeks of trying to figure out your work schedule, chifuyu showed up every morning when you worked, ordered the same thing every time and spent half an hour talking to you.

"say 'fuyu, you own a pet shop right?" you asked, writing his name on a cup with a sharpie.

"yeah! it's the one down the streets" chifuyu confirmed, paying his order and putting a generous amount of yen in the tip jar.

you continued scribing down on the cub making him frown, his name was not that long to write... "so if i wanted to adopt a little kitten, i could come see you right?"

chifuyu's eyes widened at your words, a bigger smile on his lips, "yeah, you totally could! actually there's a cat that makes me think of you every time i look at it."

it took him a second to realize what he had just said, but when he realized he quickly look away from you, missing the red on your face.

"well," you spoke again, trying to ignore the burning sensation on your face, "we should get coffee together sometimes… so you can tell me more about the cat that makes you think of me."

"uh?" chifuyu looked at you once more, grabbing the cup you were handing him your fingers brushing with his in the process.

"call me" you smiled at him before turning around to take the order of another customer, the coffee shop being abnormally filled for a thursday morning.

the boy looked down at his cup, and if he wasn't blushing before, he surely was now.

chifuyu♡ 178-003-0000

falling in love in cafés was so damn cliché.

mitsuya :

"mitsuya! i was starting to think that you weren't gonna come today!" you smiled at the pretty boy in front of you.

the boy smiled as you started to enter his regular order on the computer, "come on, you know i can't start my day without looking at your pretty face."

"you guys disgust me." a voice rang from behind you. you rolled your eyes at your coworker.

"stop it! they're so cute together!" your other coworker, kyo, an hopeless romantic, squealed at the scene.

you shook your head at the two, "we're not dating, kyo."

"not yet" mitsuya mumbled quietly, glad that you didn't hear him say that.

"please," kyo rolled her eyes, "you rejected the hotness guy in the world yesterday, because 'you had a boyfriend'- so try to tell me that you weren't talking about pretty boy over here."

mitsuya widened his eyes at what he just heard, what guy?

you scoffed at your friend, "he was the dumbest boy i've ever met, he even bumped into an old lady! plus i've got my eyes on someone else"

"wonder who that would be?" your "against any form of love" coworker sarcastically said.

the boy frowned as he sat down on a booth beside the window, living you with your friends. when he thought he had forgotten about the guy asking you out yesterday a loud irritating voice echoed in the small shop, disturbing the calm atmosphere of the place.

"come on babe," a tall guy with a buzzcut was leaning against the counter looking at you with a cocky smile, "just give me a chance."

"like i told you yesterday," you tried to keep your calm and politely rejected him, once again, "i have a boyfriend."

"i don't see him anywhere~" he pushed once more.

"he's behind you." mitsuya stood behind him, his coffee long forgotten on a table, the other guy turned around to look at him, "i get that you have a little crush on my girl, but we have a plane to catch... so flirt with her when she gets back, yeah?"

the former gang member gave you a look making you mumbled a quick "be right back" to your friends, before joining your 'boyfriend' in front of the tall guy.

"let's go, love" he place a hand on your lower back leading you outside the shop, then to his car. he then opened the passenger door for you to take a seat, closed the door, before walking to take a seat in the driver seat.

"um... where are we going?" you asked as mitsuya started to drive away from your work place.

"at the airport"

"okay... but why?"

"we have a plane to catch."

"a plane to go where, exactly?"

the boy glanced in your direction a smirk on his face, before grabbing your hand in his. he brought your intertwined hands to his mouth and placed a small kiss on your knuckles, "we're going on a date, princess."

you glanced at your intertwined hands before looking at him, when did driving a car became so attractive?

"with a plane? where are we going for that date exactly?"

he gave your hand a small squeeze, "anywhere you'd like."

kazutora :

"if you keep staring at her like that she might call the cops on you, you know?" baji's voice brought kazutora out of his trance.

the boy quickly snapped his head away from you, looking at his two friends, "god- she's so pretty..." he banged his head on the table his cup of hot chocolate in hand.

chifuyu glanced over kazutora's shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee, "so that's why you wanted to close the shop earlier... to stare at a girl from afar?"

"yeah, man!" baji agreed, "there closing in like- 5 minutes and all you've been doing is look at her and giggle like a little girl."

the lover boy rose his head from the table, begging them to quiet down, "you can just yell that when she's just behind us! and besides i'm not here to look at her... i'm here to enjoy a coffee with my friends."

The friends in question shared a look, "yeah no, you're totally here just for the girl."

kazutora groaned, banging his head on the table once more.

"she's still in school right?" chifuyu asked watching you doing homework on the counter.

"yeah... she's a med student"

"a studen~" baji smirked at his friend, "damn you are some kinky bastard-!"

kazutora hurriedly placed his hand on the boy's mouth, preventing to say anything else, "she's 24! and stop yelling!"

"oh~ she's walking over here- act normal." chifuyu stated making the boys straighten up, trying to look as normal as possible.

"kazu? you coming?" your soft voice rang through the air like honey.

"...kazu...?" baji and chifuyu looked at his friend, who's face became redder after each passing seconds.

"y-yeah!" the said boy got up from his seat, glancing at his two puzzled friends.

baji stood up from his seat, "wait- where are you going?!"

chifuyu grabbed the boy's arm, trying to force him back in his seat, "baji-! don't-"

"we have a date!" you smiled at the two, your hand lazily wrapped around kazutora's arm.

"...a date?"

"yeah..." the lover boy looked away from the pretty girl, "i brought you guys with me so i wouldn't look dumb while waiting for her to finish her shift."

he mumbled a small "see ya" to his friends, before placing a hand on your lower back, leading you outside the small coffee shop.

"so..." you looked up to the boy, a cocky smile on your face, "how's my "kinky bastard" doing?"

lowering his face in defeat, his face reddening at your words, "please don't say that..." your laughter echoed in the quiet street, sounding like a melody to the boy's ears.

"god i feel so used..." baji grumbled walking in the opposite direction of the two love birds, along side chifuyu.

"you'll get over it." his friend patted his back, rolling his eyes at his dramatic dementor.

note: this is my first writing so please be nice!

[msmk11]

A Tiny Favor

Katniss Everdeen x gn!reader

WC: 683

CW: Katniss has a panic attack; hurt comfort; fluff

Summary: You try to help Katniss in any way you can, even if it means pretending that you’re the one that needs help. (Could be read as platonic or romantic.)

Day 13 of mk’s mad dash

You thought that when District Thirteen said everyone got recreational time, you’d actually get the rest your body craved. Instead, your afternoon was rather rudely interrupted by loud knocks on the door of your compartment. You were tempted to ignore it, but they remained incessant, and you knew you’d never go back to sleep with all the ruckus. You crawled out of bed and padded across the cold floor before yanking the door open.

“Can I help y- oh, Prim. What is it? What’s wrong?”

The blonde stood before you in her nurse uniform, “It’s Katniss. She’s sort of freaking out and no one can calm her down. We’re trying to wean her off tranquilizers and I thought you might be able to help.”

“Yes, of course, Prim. Just- give me a minute.”

You left the door open and walked back across the room. You slipped on your boring gray gym shoes and then raked your fingers through your sort of messy bedhead.

“Alright, Prim. Let’s go.”

Your walk to the hospital was not an unfamiliar one, having visited Katniss nearly every day since she’d taken residence there. Still, you’d never been personally requested to visit out of visitation hours just to help. It felt good, being useful for once. You had the feeling Coin didn’t like you much, only seeing you as an extra mouth to feed and another of the Mockingjay’s stipulations.

When you arrived in the sterile, white hospital, you instantly found Katniss in her bed, hyperventilating, panicked doctors surrounding her.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, “what a bunch of idiots.”

You stalked over to the staff who were staring worriedly at Katniss, “all of you, scram.”

“We need to supervise her,” some douche doctor huffed cockily.

“You’re only making things worse,” you hissed, “I’ll take care of it. Now leave her alone.”

If your words didn’t convince them, the glare you gave certainly did, and they all skittered off. You rushed to sit at the edge of Katniss’ bed, and watched the girl’s wild eyes flit about and her panicked breathing increase.

You reached out carefully and gripped one of her hands loosely, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Katniss? Hey, Katniss.”

The brunette was still obviously freaking out, but you could tell she heard you somewhere in her anxious haze.

You placed your hands gently on her cheeks, trying to focus her attention on you, “Katniss, love. Can you focus on me? I needed to see you.”

Her glazed eyes shifted into focus, though she continued to pant, “When did you get here?”

“Just now. I came to find you cause I needed your help.”

You stroked some wild strands of hair back from her face, hoping that your touch would calm her a little.

“My-my help? With what? I can’t do anything?” she sighed sadly.

“Well I do have something you can help with. If you’re feeling up to it?”

Katniss’ breaths began to slow a little and she nodded. If you knew nothing else about the girl you’d grown up with, you at least knew that she always thrived the most when she had a purpose.

“Could you braid my hair for me? The way your mom always does. I’m gonna start my work shift soon and my hair always gets in the way,” you huffed with feigned annoyance.

“Yeah, I can do that for you,” she answered quietly, her voice shaking a little.

“Lovely,” you climbed all the way onto Katniss’ bed and took residence on top of the covers, between her spread legs. You crossed your own legs under you and rested your hands in your lap.

Hesitantly, the brunette reached out and buried her fingers in your hair.

“I’m warning you now, this won’t be half as good as when my mom does it.”

“That’s alright,” you answered with a chuckle, “it’s bound to get messed up at work anyways.”

After that, you fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the small swooshes of Katniss’ fingers as she crafted your hair into a beautiful braid. And for once, everything felt simple again.

[juliawrittingsblog]

I've been feeling sick and down(acid reflux and depression dont mix), so a bit of hurt and comfort is in order. I didn't really think to hard when making this, and this is my own hc on how the brothers would act, so if it's ooc I apologize.(also please ignore errors I just wanted to get this our of my head and if this brings someone comfort then that's womderful)

Also, this should be gender neutral. I've done my best to tag as so. So enjoy.

Your not feeling well, the stress from the past couple of months finally catching up to you aa you wake up one morning, body feeling fatigued, stomach hurting, all in all you don't have it in you for another day of destruction from the brothers or the devildom.

Turning on your side you can feel the pain in your stomach bubble. A deep sigh leaving your lips bringing a choked sob. Slowly tears start to pour, your chest tightens with pain as you try to gasp for some form of a breath between inhails.

It was gonna be another long day. Another long day of fights, of studies, of fixing problems, and you just didn't have it in you. Not today, at least. All you wanted to do was be curled up in a blanket burrito, look out a window, drink some water, and maybe take something for your stomach.

In the end, you pulled the blankets up to your nose and decided you didn't care enough to bother worrying about what anyone would say or even if the Devildom burned down. You just wanted to sleep. To not be awake and feel the pain, to not think about everything.

The first to come check on you is, of course, Lucifer when you didn't come down for breakfast. He knocks on the door before walking in seeing you still in bed and he huffs, out of everyone you were the most reliable. His brothers he would expect to slack off but not you. He walks over, a gentle hand shakes you.

'Please,' you whine, the nausea starting to bubble in your stomach, 'I don't feel good.'

Lucifers brows furrow as he places a hand on your forehead but don't feel a fever, 'your not hot,' he mumbles.

'My stomach hurts, my body feels weak. Please, I just want to sleep,' you mutter a sad plea.

You can hear Lucifer let out a sigh, 'OK, ill let RAD know of your absent,' a large hand gently strokes your head, the motion causing you to let out a content sigh. There is something about the action that is comforting, soothing even. You didn't want his affection to stop but as he pulled his hand away you knew he had to sadly.

'I will bring you some water and meds. Is there anything else you need? "Lucifer asks as he tucks the blankets around you, making sure you are snug and warm.

You shake your head, simply happy to not have to push yourself though the day with a body heavy and stomach feeling sour. Granted you knew you wouldn't have to if you didn't want to. None of the brothers would force you. If anything all of them would spend the day watching over you and pampering you.

Satan is reading you a story if you were bored. He would also go out to try to find better medicine and try to find a book to try to help you feel better.

Levi keeping you company and making sure to do all the daily and grab all the energy for your games

Beel would make sure you are feed of course but would also on request carry you around like a little wrapped burrito that way you wouldn't feel so cooped up in your room. Being curled up into his chest is very comforting.

Asmo would do a low energy self care. Hot baths to help your fatigued muscles. Face mask to feel refreshed. He would also do your hair in a braid so it didn't get messy and tangled while you weren't feeling good.

Belphie would bring his best blankets and pillows. He would also lay with you if you asked.

Mammon, surprisingly, go into big bro mode and make sure everyone is kept in line. It was a rare site, but as the older brother, he needed to make sure his little brother didn't cause a racket and upset you. He would also let you have some of his stash of his best secret ramen.

Oh, and all of them would rub your tummy if you requested (something that you find relieves the pain and is soothing)

At the end of the day, despite how hectic things can be. You are loved and treasured by not just the brothers but everyone else as well.

[strwberri-milk]

While the new Kaeya skin brainrot is fresh, could I please request fluff of reader helping Kaeya style his hair and paint his nails, and like, fix up his accessories and stuff? Because of course Kaeya could do it all himself, but why would he want to when he could have his lover dote on him instead?

You weren't surprised when he came to you with a brush in hand and other little accessories that he'd need your help with pinning. Kaeya loved being prettied by you, spoiled with your attention as he made sure he looked right.

He had finished most of his outfit but left a few things that he really wanted you to do for him. If you listened carefully you could hear the soft sighs of contentment that he gave you in response to the soft way you comb through his hair. It made him smile, leaning against you as you made sure to braid his hair as neatly as possible.

Kaeya tries to stay still throughout the process, really, but he can't help the desire to kiss you sweetly, grazing his lips up and down your hand and arms. You lightly push his cheek away, laughing at the adorable pout on his face from having his affection rejected. You make it up to him by taking his hand in yours and kissing the back of it before continuing with the braids.

He doesn't paint his nails by himself very often thanks to how messy it can become, meaning he was more than happy to ask you to do it for him. You let him rest his hand on your knee, painting each nail carefully before pressing a kiss to the pads of each completed finger. It's cheesy, but it makes him smile.

You make him stand up, kneeling next to him to make sure you don't miss out on any details. He laughs a little at the sight of you crawling around on your hands and knees to check over his clothes, earning a quick smack to the back of his calf. When you decide that he's put his boots on right you finally stand, smoothing down his scarf and shirt.

Kaeya adores the look of concentration on your face as you make sure you've pinned everything down in the right place. He ignores the tiny pinpricks of pain from you pushing stuff onto his chest to make sure it sticks because he would feel so guilty if he accidentally ruined your focus in any way.

He's always taken pride in the way he looks. Knowing that he looks this good thanks to you only increases that joy tenfold. He can't stop smiling, knowing that the only reason why he looks as amazing as he does is thanks to your careful attention.

[violetlunette]

For the sake of this Ficlet, Silver is a young woman, and Lilia's her befuddled father.

Twst Spoilers:

*One Line about Malleus' mommy

--

“Father! You’re back!” Lilia beamed at the sound of his little girl’s voice. 

He had been at NRC for a while now and decided to visit home for the holidays. The college was fun, but Lilia couldn’t wait to share his experiences with Silver.

“Yeah! I’m--”

Lilia’s bag slid from his shoulders as he froze mid-sentence as a young lady with aurora eyes bounded towards him. Lilia’s eyes blew open and his jaw dropped.

“S-Silver?” It certainly looked like his sweet little girl—or rather, she shared features he recalled her having. However, there were some features he didn’t remember her having, some—not so little girl things. Things that Lilia couldn’t ignore as they—stuck out.

Silver—oblivious to her father’s confusion—smiled brightly as she stopped before him, her skin pink and covered in sweat from training in the sun.

“I’m so glad to see you! Welcome home.” She pressed her hand over—no, between her--her--~~

“Father?” Lilia snapped back to reality, though his head spun like a spell disc being tossed in the air.

“Hm?! Oh. OH! Y-yes. Sorry about that. Just—surprised,” he admitted, running a hand over his neck. How long had he been gone? Were they there when he left? Was she hiding them?! When did his little girl get—get—those?!

Silver tilted her head to the side, her messy silver hair slipping from the messy braid.

“Surprised?” she repeated. Lilia waved his hand through the air, looking away.

“N--never mind,” he mumbled, face red. “Er, let’s--let’s go inside and talk, shall we?”

He ushered her inside, where Silver insisted Lilia sit while she made him some tea, as to her appeared feverish. Usually, Lilia would use his magic to make tea so they could converse but right now, he welcomed a moment to think. This was a difficult task as his mind was blown.

It seemed that during Lilia's absence, his daughter had grown—she developed—oh, where did those come from?! No. He knew where they came from. He grew up alongside Malenore, after all. (Though hers weren’t as large as Silver’s. And if Lilia was honest—he did not handle that development much better. [Though that was VERY different.])

He was thankful they didn’t bounce, at least. If they did, the old man would not be standing right now. (Not that he was, as Lilia was in a chair, but still.)

“Mr. Zigvolt gave us some new herbal flavored tea,” Silver explained as she set two cups down. Lilia tried not to notice how they hung as she leaned forward. “Would you like some melons?” Lilia physically jumped in his seat.

“What?!” Silver was taken aback by the reaction.

“Uh, melons?” she repeated. “The fruit?” Lilia deflated, though his face was still flustered.

“Oh. No, that’s okay, that’s fine.” Lilia sipped the tea, trying to calm himself and hide his face.

He was overreacting. Silver was a girl, and girls had those. It was nature. But it was too soon. Silver was just a little girl, barely fifteen, and now--

Silver’s shirt slipped, revealing a bra strap on her shoulder. Lilia sputtered in his tea.

“Father?! What’s wrong!”

“NOTHING!” the fae said too loudly. “Nothing at all! Just—wrong, tube, ya know? No, that’s okay. I can clean myself up.” He added as Silver stood to get a rag. He waved his hand, and the mess on his shirt was gone. The mess in his head, on the other hand...

‘A bra. She has a bra.’ A bra. His daughter had a bra. When did she get that?! Was it new? Did she always have one? Baul’s daughter took her shopping once in a while in the past. Was that one of the things they grabbed?

“Father? You seem distracted,” Silver noted with a frown as he subconsciously pushed her sleeve up. (Thank goodness.) “Is something wrong?” Lilia forced a laugh, which came out as a loud boom.

“Nope! Not at all!” He couldn’t ask. True, he was her father, but—well, he was her father! How the hell was he supposed to ask this stuff?! 

This was almost as bad as the time poor Silver had woken up with bloody sheets—actually, no. He was wrong. As shocking as this was, it was nothing compared to THAT day. (Baul’s daughter was still laughing at him for it.)

Lilia sighed as he leaned forward, head in his hands, as Silver went to grab him some water. He was being silly. Lilis knew it was just a body part. He knew that. Malenore had them, as did every female he met. And it wasn’t like they “bothered” him. In fact, he rarely noticed them. (Really.) It just bothered him that Silver had them. They were a symbol that his little girl was growing, and that thought—they came too soon. This was too fast for Lilia.

‘Nature doesn’t wait, though.’ And just as flowers bloomed, so was his daughter. And as her father, he shouldn’t be mourning the fact his Silver rose wasn’t a blossom any more. Instead, he should be proud that she was becoming a beautiful woman.

‘It’s going to be difficult to keep boys from buzzing--’ Lilia turned white as paper. ‘Oh, fiddlesticks!’

Boys.

It was hard enough keeping them away before, but now the symbols of his daughter’s blossoming were going to attract those fiends like hornets. Well, if they thought they were going to try anything with HIS daughter--

“Father! You’ve been acting weird ever since you came back! Are you sure you’re---”

“I’m great!” Lilia proclaimed loudly. “In fact, I have some things to teach you! Right now.” Silver’s wide aurora eyes blinked in startled shock.

“Huh? Train? We’re going to train? But you just got back--”

“No time to waste! Come on, I’m going teach you how to break someone’s wood.”

“Eh? You mean we’re going to chop wood? Now?” Lilia laughed.

“No, no not that kind of wood—But while we’re at it, go grab the wood chapter from the shed. I’m going to teach you an interesting trick.”

“H-huh?”

--

Lol, poor Lilia! 700 years old, and he gets completely thrown off by his daughter's "growth" and has no idea what to do. Anyway, I wanted to write a little ficlet with a baffled Lilia and a female Silver, so here we are.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian, Chapter 3

I needed an emotional break after working on so much Théodred stuff lately (I ♥️ him, but he dies!) so I did some more of my continuing Haldir story. Parts one and two are available for catch up, but the TL;DR is Haldir finds a small girl lost on her own. They can’t speak to each other because she only speaks Rohirric (though he’s now taught her a few basic Sindarin words), but he’s taking her to other elves who can help figure out who she is and where she belongs. This is my Haldir, who is a gentle, sweet person but is EXTREMELY reserved and kind of awkward, whereas Mildrithe is…not. Chapter 4 (next week) will finally be from her perspective!

(Art by the incomparable @brigwife )

************

Haldir let Mildrithe sleep until the morning sun stirred her on its own, an errant beam of light slicing through a crack in their little tree shelter and falling across her closed eyes. She blinked them open slowly and yawned, and he was relieved to see no traces of the previous night’s frightening dream still on her face. Her calm expression, however, was in sharp contrast to the chaos that framed her cheeks and surrounded her entire head when she sat up. Her hair, freed by the river from the messy remains of her old braid, had dried in a riotous amber cloud that sprang away from her scalp in all angles and directions.

As he watched her repeatedly attempt to push the same curls out of her still sleepy eyes, he raised a hesitant arm to help but then quickly lowered it again. It was one thing to carry her over rough terrain or to let her take his hand when she was frightened–such actions were necessary for her safety and well being. They were part of his duty as a protector. But for him to touch her hair now was something else entirely. To initiate that kind of personal contact, even just to use his own hands to tame those curls and wrangle them back into a simple binding, felt deeply presumptuous to him. That was the job of a parent, someone who saw not only to the protection of life and limb but also to the provision of nurturing care. It wasn’t his place, and he worried that she would be made just as uncomfortable by it as he was. But even as he resisted the notion, he also balked at the idea of leaving her intentionally disheveled. It felt like negligence to deny her the dignity of a neat appearance and the practicality of getting that hair out of her face when it was easily within his power to help.

Before he reached a conclusion in his own mind, she let out a frustrated huff and stood to fish around in her pockets, eventually pulling out a short leather band. Thrusting it at him, she plopped down in his lap, either oblivious to his startled gasp or choosing to ignore it, and looked back at him expectantly over her shoulder.

“Min feax.” She pointed an exasperated finger at her head.

He had been a soldier long enough to recognize an order when one was given, even if the exact words were unfamiliar. Swallowing his hesitancy, he gently smoothed the hair back from her face and raked his fingers loosely through it. He winced a little each time he hit a knot that tugged at her head, but she made no complaint and soon her unruly halo of frizz had been subdued enough that he could weave it into a strong, tight braid that he tied off with the band she’d provided.

He leaned around to get a look at his work from the front, and the sight of the face looking back startled him. Cleaned of old dirt and mud by the river yesterday and now with her hair neatly done, she looked even younger and more out of place than before. More fragile. He felt a clench in his chest and dropped his hands to his sides.

She turned her head back and forth, feeling the braid swish around behind her neck, and gave him a satisfied nod before moving off his lap and out of their little shelter. He gathered up his things, checked to be sure every ember of their fire was out and then joined her. They each took a swig from their water canteen and had a few bites of the food that remained in his pack, and then they set off again deeper into the forest.

Their misadventure in the river the day before had actually sped them along their path, the swift-moving water carrying them further and faster downstream than they would have made it solely on foot. He estimated now that they could reach the safety of a temporary patrol talan by nightfall and then the closest staffed post, where more help would be available, early the next day.

As they walked, she kept her usual place close by his side, but she occasionally skipped a few steps off their path to look closer at a clump of bright orange mushrooms or to point out a long, fuzzy caterpillar inching its way across a fern frond. When they passed a small glade that was nearly carpeted in delicate, bell-shaped white snowdrops, she gave an excited squeak and plucked several to bring along. Separating one out, she held it up to him. “Niphredil?” The Sindarin came from her mouth slowly but clearly.

He nodded. “Niphredil, very good. You remembered.” He accepted the proffered flower and admired it before tucking it into a pocket. She took several blossoms of her own and put them behind her ears or pushed them into the plaits of her braid, and when she looked up at him for approval he nodded again and smiled.

They made steady progress, and her pace was faster than yesterday, perhaps the result of the extra sleep she had that morning. They walked mostly in silence, though she occasionally talked to herself in a low voice, mumbling just loudly enough that he could hear the unknown words strung together in an amorphous mush of sound. As she talked, he wondered how she would describe this whole experience to her fellow Rohirrim one day. Would she remember only the terrors she had faced, or would she make room in the tale for the beauty of his beloved Lórien as well? For the golden leaves of the winter’s mallorns or the brilliant field of stars that shimmered above the treetops like silver dust? For the frost-tipped woodland flowers that sparkled in the first light of day?

Amidst these thoughts, a strange and unexpected question suddenly formed in his mind–how would she remember him when she told this tale to others? What would she choose to say about the quiet, solemn elf who appeared unexpectedly in her life and looked after her for a short time? But no sooner had the question emerged, unbidden, than he shook it out of his head, reproving himself for idle thoughts at a time when he should be focused on the task at hand.

Their way was smooth and uneventful until the early afternoon, when he began to notice a slight change in her gait as they walked, a minor favoring of her left foot. When the favoring grew worse and she began to limp outright, he brought them to a rest and pointed to the foot. She reached down and gingerly drew off her battered boot, exposing a woolen sock that had worn through at the toes, all of which were now rubbed raw and bleeding.

It never ceased to surprise him how quickly the bodies of mortal beings betrayed them. Though not often, he had fought alongside men in battle before, and he had seen firsthand how they took injuries more easily and healed with more difficulty. Some elves looked down on this fragility of men, but he found it oddly moving. To go through the world and face the very same risks and dangers while trapped in a body that was so much more susceptible to hurts took bravery that he believed many elves didn’t appreciate and couldn’t match.

The pain in Mildrithe’s foot was nothing compared to a battlefield injury, but it did require redress or it would only get worse. He eased the sock off her foot and poured a little water from the canteen onto her toes to rinse lingering dirt away from the broken skin. While the foot dried, he searched his pack for anything soft and pliable, finally drawing out a felt square that he usually kept wrapped around his pocket knife and a few other small tools. Now he wrapped it carefully around her foot, trying not to put any pressure on tender places, and slid her boot back into place.

She took a few tentative steps back and forth and looked up at him, smiling, but the relief they both felt was cut short by a distinct cracking noise in the distance behind them. She didn’t hear it but clearly understood the way his face snapped to attention, and she immediately froze, one foot still raised mid-step. He strained for any hint of further activity, and soon it came, loud enough that even she heard it—the tread of heavy feet plodding through the forest, breaking twigs and rustling leaves as they went.

He shoved the ruined sock into her hand and lifted her up into the boughs of the nearest tree, setting her on the highest branch he could reach. She hugged herself to the trunk, both anxious and unsteady, and pulled her dangling legs up into the protective cover of the thick green leaf canopy. He put a finger to his lips before quietly turning away and secreting himself behind another nearby tree to wait for the imminent approach of the intruders.

In a few minutes’ time, a trio of broad, stocky bodies came into view. Orcs. One was a bowman and the other two held short swords, and all three moved slowly, stopping every now and again to check and recheck the scent trail they followed. Haldir silently cursed the loss of his arrows, which had been claimed by the river when he dove in the day before, though in truth he wasn’t sure whether his bow still had its aim and balance anyway after having bounced off of boulders and all kinds of other underwater debris that might have bent the hard yew wood.

Without a better purpose for it now, he gripped the bow in his hands like a bludgeon and held his breath, listening intently to the sound of steps moving ever closer. His mind raced through strategy—timing, angles, approaches—but when the moment presented itself all he needed were his instincts. He sprang from his hiding place, taking a full-body swing with the bow at the nearest orc. It cracked on impact, but the force of the blow knocked the unsuspecting creature backwards and into a companion, sending them both sprawling to the ground. He leaped onto the first prone body, pressing what was left of the bow in his hand across its neck to hold it in place as he snatched the short sword from its side, and he slashed quickly across first one and then the other toppled opponent. As he attempted to stand, the third orc launched itself at him from the side, knocking the sword from his hand, and they grappled for a time, rolling across the leaf-covered ground as each sought to pin the other down or to land a debilitating blow. At last, using a forearm braced against the orc’s chest to force some separation between them, he managed to snake his other hand down to his belt and pull his hunting knife, jamming it into the orc’s side all the way to the hilt.

The dirty, rough hands clasped around his neck immediately slackened. He pulled the knife back out and the orc slid off him, rolling silently into the low brush that surrounded them. He listened carefully for several long moments, ensuring both that he heard no further breath from the three orcs he had just dispatched and no indication that others might still be coming. Hearing nothing but silence, he wiped the blade of his knife on a clump of grass, returned it to his belt, and went to Mildrithe.

She looked down at him from her perch in the tree, eyes wide and face pale. Her boot sat on the ground below her, having slipped off as she tried to scrabble further up the trunk to a higher bough, and her bandaged toes now dangled near his face. He reached up for her and she leaned forward into his arms so that he could lift her back to the ground. But no sooner had he put her on her feet and straightened up again when she cried out, her voice shrill with panic.

“Dreor!” In less than an instant, tears welled up in her eyes and she burst into heaving sobs.

His heart leapt into his throat. He spun around, expecting to see another orc headed their way, but there was nothing but calm stillness behind them. He turned back, but her sobs only increased as he faced her once again. He dropped to his knees, grabbing her shoulders and turning her in a circle, scanning for an injury of some kind. She had been out of harm’s way, but he could think of no other explanation for her cries, which came now as long, shuddering wails that shook the entirety of her small body.

He sat, frozen, his heart pounding with frantic energy but his mind stunned into confused paralysis. She had been in control of herself when he lifted her out of the tree. What could be causing this anguished distress, so unlike anything she had shown before? Dreor? Was she trying to tell him that she was hurt? Was she merely terrified, needing to let out the horror she had swallowed while hiding silently in the tree? Or some other horror brought back to life by this newest brush with violence and death?

He finally took her shoulders once more, attempting to force her focus to his face. “Mildrithe, what do you need? What can I do?” He could only hope that she would understand from his tone and expression alone what he had asked.

Her sobs continued, but at last she raised a small, trembling hand and pointed at his chest. Looking down, he saw a deep red stain spreading slowly across the front of his tunic, clear evidence of a wound he hadn’t felt or even been aware of. He pulled several layers of clothing over his head, laying bare a long gash that ran from his left shoulder to the middle of his collarbone, the handiwork of a sharp claw.

Bunching up his thin undershirt, he wiped his chest, and in the fraction of a second before fresh blood spilled out again he got a clear view of the wound. Wide, but not deep. The kind of injury that bled a lot but caused him no real harm or serious pain. But she didn’t know that. She had seen blood, and perhaps she assumed the worst. That he was seriously hurt. That she would be left all alone once again, only now even farther from home and having lost yet another protector.

He put a hand under her chin and tipped her face up. “Mildrithe, you don’t need to be scared. It’s alright. See?” He pressed the cloth against the wound again and tapped it lightly a few times with his fingertips, keeping his face calm and even as he did so. “It doesn’t even really hurt. It’ll be fine, I promise.” When her weeping continued unabated, he sat back on his heels, adrift in helplessness. He could think of only one thing to do, but he found himself oddly afraid to do it. If he got this wrong, if he somehow made everything worse, he would hate himself. But if the alternative was to do nothing, to let her just continue suffering alone in her distress, he knew that was more unforgivable. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her.

She collapsed into him and hid her face in the soft curtain of his hair. They sat for long minutes holding each other as she cried, unable to just turn off her flood of emotions after the dam had broken. His cheeks blushed a furious red, but he held on tight and rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back, feeling at once broken hearted for her fear and immensely relieved that an embrace seemed to be what she wanted and needed.

When she had at last cried herself out and sobs were replaced by the occasional hiccup, she wiped her face with his sleeve and released her hold on his neck. Her eyes were swollen and red and she looked exhausted, but she managed a small, embarrassed smile. He gave her the water canteen and sat her against a tree while he set to work tearing his undershirt into strips, wrapping them around his neck and shoulder to cover the gash along his collarbone. By the time he was almost done, she had regained enough composure to come hold a loose end as he tied off the final strip, and he pulled his regular shirt and tunic back over his head.

As spent as she looked, she seemed to understand that they had to keep moving. Orcs rarely made it this far into the forest, and it nagged at his conscience to know that he could have stopped them much sooner had he been at his regular post as planned. But if there were three, there might be more, and they couldn’t linger here in the open. They gathered their things and set out again, and after several more hours of silent, uneventful trekking they reached the talan where he intended to spend their last night together.

She accepted the idea of climbing a tree and sleeping on a suspended platform with surprising nonchalance, perhaps having already used up all the energy needed to question or wonder at the day’s events. When they were settled safely on the talan and she had a few bites of food, she curled up next to him again and dropped quickly into wearied sleep even though the sun was barely below the horizon and the mild glow of twilight still surrounded them.

Her cheek rested against his ribs, and he spent a long time simply watching her head gently rise and fall in time with his own breathing. He tried to imagine what Idhrien would think to see him in this position, and he pictured her sitting quietly across from them, her bright, thoughtful eyes watching her husband with both surprise and pride. They had talked many times about starting a family of their own, but only in general terms–something for a later day–and he had always wondered in his heart whether he had the makings of a good parent. His father had been a cold presence in his childhood, and Haldir worried that his own natural reserve might come across as a similar coldness to those in his life that he loved deeply. Gazing at Mildrithe cuddled up to him now, it seemed that maybe his concern was unfounded. Maybe this was proof that he could figure out fatherhood just as he had figured out many other challenges before. Or maybe he was ridiculous for even thinking about it in this situation, holed up on a talan with a child that he barely knew–that wasn’t even his kind–and would be out of his care entirely as soon as he reached other wardens the next day. He sighed and stared up at the stars, lost in a swirl of thoughts, until the soft trill of birdsong replaced the chirping of crickets and the first rays of sunlight returned to the forest.

The morning passed easily with a quiet breakfast and early start. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and within a few hours they had come within scouting distance of the wardens’ post that he knew lay just ahead, out of sight. A familiar whistling signal soon emerged from the trees, and no sooner had he answered it than his brother Rúmil appeared, slipping out of the brush where he had been expertly concealed. Mildrithe drew closer to Haldir’s side, edging behind him as Rúmil approached, but she still followed him forward, reassured by his own calm and no doubt also by the striking similarity between this newcomer and her guardian of the last few days.

“Maedol, hanar,” said Rúmil, placing a hand on his chest and inclining forward slightly.

“Mae govannen, honeg,” replied Haldir. They each threw an arm loosely around the other’s neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“We weren’t expecting to see you here,” said Rúmil when they separated. His eye trailed down to the bloodstains on Haldir’s clothing, but his evident concern was quickly dismissed with a wave of the hand.

“I wasn’t expecting it either, but sometimes fate forces a change in our plans.” He took hold of Mildrithe’s elbow and inched her out from behind him.

Rúmil cocked an eyebrow at his brother but smiled down at her and gave a courteous bow. She offered a hesitant smile in response. “Pedig edhellen, píneth?”

She looked to Haldir, who answered on her behalf. “She doesn’t. At least, not more than the few words I’ve taught her. She’s a Rohirrim. Her name is Mildrithe.”

“I see.” Rúmil studied her face for a long moment and bit thoughtfully at his bottom lip before looking back at his brother. “And what is she doing with you?”

He listened intently as Haldir described how he had found Mildrithe and what little he knew of her, and as he listened Rúmil’s expression became ever more grave. He shook his head sadly when Haldir reached the end of the tale.

“Yesterday we received a report from Haedirn of dead men found over the border by the Celebrant, only a few leagues from your post. Six of them, headed further north but ambushed by orcs before they made it to the marshes. No women and no survivors, or so he thought. But it’s hard to imagine that a child of men ends up lost and alone so close to such a massacre by pure coincidence.”

Haldir frowned. “None of what you say sets my mind at ease. And if orcs attacked this group at the border, they have only grown bolder since. Three followed us as far as the Hithglad, and there may be more.” He looked down. “Being drawn away from my post has left us without good scouting information.”

“Well that, at least, is a problem that can soon be addressed,” said Rúmil. “One of the wardens here can take the girl the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon, and then you’ll be free to return to your post and reset the watch.” He squatted down in front of Mildrithe, and they eyed each other with cautious interest. “You say she is a Rohirrim? Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be when I can’t ask her directly. But I’ve heard enough Rohirric in my life to recognize it. That’s the language she speaks, I’m sure. Why?”

Rúmil pulled a small knife from a bag that was slung over his shoulder, and turned it over in his hands so that the hilt faced Mildrithe. She paled at the sight of it and grabbed onto Haldir’s leg, burying her face in the fabric of his tunic. Haldir gave his brother a sharp look.

“Put that away, you’re upsetting her.” He ran a hand gently over the crown of her head and down to her shoulder, where he rested it.

“Haedirn took this from one of the dead men at the border,” said Rúmil, standing up and holding the knife out now for Haldir’s view. “Do you see the charging stag engraved there? That’s a Dunlending symbol, the device of one of their clans that lives now in the Loeg Ningloron. And yet she clearly knows the knife. So if she is really a Rohirrim as you say…what would she be doing in a group of Dunlending men on the move?”

Haldir breathed out a long, slow sigh. He had always known that something horribly wrong must have happened to ever put Mildrithe in his path, but the true weight of her circumstances was easier to forget while her tragedy was still abstract and undefined. To imagine her now in the midst of that ambush, terrified and helpless, filled him with both anger and pity, and he gave silent thanks to Eru that she had somehow escaped. And yet Rúmil’s question was far from the only unknown remaining. Did she know those other men were dead? If she knew, would she be sad, or would she be glad to be free of them? Where could the elves take her to be reunited with her own people if her only connection to those people lay now in a field by the river, hastily buried by Haedirn and his companions?

She pulled back from his side at last and ventured a wary look in Rúmil’s direction before turning her eyes back to Haldir. He pushed the uncertainty and sorrow from his face, if not from his heart, and smiled encouragingly. Today, at least, she was safe, delivered to the protection of this post. Where she went next and what fate ultimately lay before her was not his to control. He had his own obligations to contend with, duties that weighed on him, and no one would think twice at him returning to those duties as quickly as he could.

And yet, as he contemplated that possibility now, a dull, aching feeling crept into his chest and settled heavily on his heart.

**********

Min feax = Old English/Rohirric for “my hair”

Dreor = Old English/Rohirric for “blood”

Maedol, hanar = Sindarin for “welcome, brother”

Mae govannen, honeg = Sindarin for “well met, little brother”

Pedig edhellen, píneth? = Sindarin for “do you speak elvish, little one?”

[Don’t @ me if the translations aren’t perfect, I tried! 🙂]

@konartiste @dancerinthestorm @emmanuellececchi as requested