#Nothing against him. Maybe I'm too old or my tastes have changed or I just don't like the plots he's doing now

[expandoducks]

So how are y'all feeling about tsats?

[gaytamorfosi]

What effect does this have on you?

🇬🇧 ("Che effetto ti fa?" Versione Inglese)

A frightening sense of dizziness won't let me be on this sultry August morning. A small taste of supernatural experience, it lasted a handful of minutes and it was enough. There's no turning back from something like this. That scene repeats itself incessantly before my eyes, my stomach churns and I feel like I'm lacking oxygen, like I'm on the verge of fainting. It is not a fleeting sensation, but a prolonged one, which has clouded my mind for hours while the room seems to slowly turn on itself. 

I met Dario thanks to a mutual friend. I couldn't believe that a person with fantasies so similar to mine lived near me. For years I had considered my kinks as an absolutely private and intimate thing, not thinking that I would ever find someone with my same tastes who understood me fully. When I saw Dario, I was pleasantly surprised: he was very handsome, definitely out of my league. Gathering courage, I asked him out. I don't think a bald, overweight bear like me has much of a chance with a guy with a perfect body like Dario, but considering we had several things in common, I thought it was a great opportunity and stepped forward. I was surprised when he said yes; maybe I had a small chance with him. 

Last night we went out together and had a wonderful evening. Time flew by and in an instant we found ourselves alone in my house. It was too good to be true. I asked myself if we would have sex, fearing I was rushing things too much: I didn't want to waste this precious opportunity; I really like him a lot. 

“We ended up not talking about our fantasies,” he said. “What would you do if you were faced with a person who was actually capable of changing their appearance and becoming someone else?” I had never asked myself this question. "It's a hot fantasy, but I have no idea on how I would react in reality," I replied. At that point, Dario began to undress. I remained a few meters away, surprised and embarrassed. Left with only a pair of shorts on, Dario sank into the armchair and his massive, virile body began to shrink and rejuvenate. In a few seconds he had become a guy who was about twenty years old. I had dreamed of a scene like that many times, but living it was something else entirely. I was speechless in front of that impossible scene. "Don't you like Thomas?" he asked, reading the confusion in my eyes. "He's an English TikToker, as handsome as he is useless and arrogant."

That Thomas wasn't really my type, but I couldn't deny that he was a hot guy. In any case, all that came out of my mouth was an awkward, meaningless babble, and then silence fell. I hadn't yet wrapped my mind around the transformation when Dario's appearance changed again, this time replicating mine, in every way. The only difference was that Dario was standing there wearing only his shorts and with his legs wide open. "What effect does this have on you?" he asked. Once again I didn't know how to respond: it was a scenario I had never even imagined. A sense of excitement mixed with euphoria pervaded me. I had never found myself particularly attractive, but Dario's attitude in my body made it exciting, against all odds. Even before my head could make sense of all this, my body started sending me clear signals: seeing my self-confident copy made me hard. Like a mirror, Dario began to get excited in the same way, while smiling smugly. 

I wonder what turned me on... The transformation itself? My reflection? The idea that someone could find me attractive enough to take my shape? I only know that when Dario got up from the chair and his lips touched mine, it was as if the world began to spin in reverse. From that moment on, nothing was the same as before; my heart remained in that room and Dario, by leaving, took with him every possibility of reasoning in a clear and coherent way, leaving me in this state. I never wanted to let him go again, but he promised he'd be back: "I just started rocking your world," he said before disappearing through the door.

[jakes3resin]

Modern Reincarnation AU Part 5 ✨️

Part 4

"Hello."

Bucky turned his head into the crook of his arms. The material of his new suit jacket itches at his cheeks, but he still rubbed his nose against it pretending it was enough to cover his sniffles. He wasn't interested in talking to whoever this was. He'd had enough with talking. Enough of people staring at him with pity as they offered condolences that didn't do anything. No one said anything worth listening to here anyway.

"You're John, right?" The person from before asked. Bucky could hear the rustle of clothing as whoever it was knelt down.

"It's Bucky." Bucky murmured. He refused to lift his head from his arms, so his voice came out muffled and wrong.

"Buffy? Like the vampire slayer?" The voice laughed. "Bit silly, but okay."

Bucky lifted his head to glare at the voice. He didn't care that the man was in a fancy uniform like his parents' old ones or that the kind smile on his face grew in triumph when he did so. No one was allowed to make fun of his name.

"My name is Bucky." Each word enuciated crisp and succinct.

"Well, my name's Chick, Chick Harding. Nice to meet you kid."

✨️

"Knew I'd find you out here."

Bucky doesn't turn to acknowledge Buck as the other leans out the kitchen window. Thankfully, he doesn't step out onto the stairs. Bucky's not sure he wants Buck in his space. It's easier at night when Bucky can pretend, can ignore the hurt just to bask in the comfort. In the daylight, it's the echo of Buck's voice that haunts him dogging his every step.

Don't count on it.

Damn it Curt, how many times do I have to tell you? He doesn't know!

The same voice over and over.

Bucky stares down at the traffic below, watching strangers running around going about their lives. Sometimes, he sits out here and imagines their lives. Imagines what brought them here, where they're going next, and how that changes them.

"Curt asked if we wanted to go out tonight. After dinner with your father, that is."

Curt... Bucky hides his wince by shifting against the railing. He hasn't spoken to Curt yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd had enough with talking.

"Not sure," Bucky shrugs, turning back to his book. He still doesn't look up at Buck. "Probably not."

"That's not like you." Shock colors Buck's voice. Bucky curls his knee closer leaving only one leg splayed out on the stairs above. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Bucky scoffs. He breathes out softens his voice. "I just don't think I'll feel up to it after dinner."

Buck makes a noise as if he understands, but the fib tastes like ash on Bucky's tongue. His fingers curls around his book, more homework he was supposed to finish at the library.

"You should go. Paint the town red." Bucky finally lifts his head to meet Buck's gaze. The other's face pales. Bucky tries not to feel vindictive. Or guilty.

"Maybe next time." Buck chokes out, voice gruff as he pulls his head back into the apartment.

✨️

"You gonna be calm about this?"

"What? I'm always calm."

"Bucky breaking his arm at baseball practice would disagree with that statement, Chick."

"Extenuating circumstances. He was crying!"

"And he was crying last night when I had to talk you out of calling in favors to take out a university student."

"Political office has to come with some perks. Why shouldn't I use them?"

"Because Congress can impeach you for misappropriating State Department resources, and I won't help you out of it."

"Didn't our marriage vows include for better or for worse?"

"Probably, but who knows? But back to my original point, keep your cool. We don't know what's going on between them."

"Right. I don't think I'm going to like this boy. He's too old for Bucky."

"He's twenty-six to Bucky's twenty-three. Our age gap is worse."

"Well, he still has a lot to explain."

"Sure. Would you get the good plates out of the china cabinet for me? Bucky will be here any minute."

"Yes, dear."

✨️

"We're here!" Bucky motioned Buck in first. Buck's big blue eyes took in the entryway. The high ceilings and beautifully decorated rooms certainly looked different from his college apartment.

"In here!" Jack's voice rang out. A crash echoed from the kitchen alongside his father's voice cursing. God Bucky hopes Jack didn't let him do any of the cooking. Bucky's already dealing with heartbreak he doesn't want to deal with food poisoning as well.

"Follow me," Bucky tried for a smile, but judging by the pinching around Buck's eyes, it was more likely a grimace. "If you're worried about an ambush, they'll at least wait until you've eaten something."

"Right." Buck reaches a hand out for Bucky's. His thumb rubs over Bucky's knuckles. "Let's face the music then."

Bucky leads the other through the living room towards the kitchen. Buck's eyes jumping over the many childhood photos of Bucky decorating the walls, the same wild curls and equally wild smile greeting him in each one.

"Bucky!"

Bucky's dragged out of Buck's hold by his father's hug. Shocks tingle at the tips of his fingers. He might have been imagining it, but it felt like Buck's hand tried to reel in him back.

"And you must be Gale Cleven." Bucky's dad reached a hand out to shake his hand. Bucky watched his father squeeze Buck's hand. Buck's smile never dipped.

"Mr. Secretary, you have a lovely home."

✨️

"So how did you two meet?" Chick asked as filled Jack's glass of wine alongside his own. Both Buck and Bucky had both chosen not to drink that night. Alcohol, as much as Bucky craved the release it gave him, probably wasn't the best idea for him tonight.

"Oh," Bucky cleared his throat. His food suddenly felt like sludge as it went down his throat.

This was fine. He'd prepared for this. He could play the lovesick kid tonight. Tomorrow, he'd confront Buck. He just had to make it through this dinner.

"At a coffee shop just off campus. Buck said I looked like a friend of his from Wisconsin. Said we shared the same name."

"That a fact?" Chick leveled Buck with an deep look. "And that's how the kids do it these days? Chance meetings in coffee shops?"

"Dad," Bucky groaned burying his face into his hands. "Please don't."

"What?" Chick nudged Jack who simply rolled his eyes at his husband's teasing. "Am I too embarrassing now? I thought I was a cool dad."

"Anyone who has to say they're a cool dad, ultimately is the lamest dad." Bucky laughed.

"I'll remember that next time you want a favor or special tickets to something." Chick threatened, but no one at the table truly believed him. His smile was too wide and happy when he looked at Bucky. Plus, Jack would testify that Chick had never denied Bucky anything since Bucky had come into his life.

"You're from Casper Wyoming, aren't you, Gale?" Chick turned his attention back to Buck. Bucky noticed that every time his dad called the other 'Gale,' his hands tightened around his utensils. "How'd you end up in DC?"

"School, sir. I'm a graduate student at Georgetown. Interplanetary physics." Gale took a sip of his water.

"Ever think about joining the Air Force?" Chick laid his knife down. "Degree like that could take you far. I knew a Major who studied the same thing once."

"No, sir." Buck's jaw clenched. "I respect those who serve, but I think I'm happy where I am."

"Chick," Jack laid a hand on Chick's forearm. "He's a retired Colonel, so you'll have to excuse him. Years at the State Department and somehow his allegiance is still to them."

"Not a problem." Buck's jaw finally unclenched. Bucky resisted the urge to reach for him. "Did you fly any of the big birds sir?"

✨️

"Sorry about them," Bucky glanced back towards Buck. The other had fallen behind, eyes distant as if lost in thought. "Buck?"

"Sorry?" Buck's eyes met his own once more.

"Now who's distracted?" Bucky let the other catch up. He twisted his hand out of the way when Buck went to hold it. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his phone to check on the status of their ride. Buck's hand felt back to his side.

"Sorry about the interrogation back there. He's protective."

"It's alright, Bucky." Buck smiles. "He's not so scary. Not to me, and not when it comes to you. Besides, I'd go through a lot worse to stay with you."

The words, heartfelt and genuine, felt sickening to hear.

What about Curt? Would you do the same for him?

The question was once more on the tip of his tongue, the rage and heartbreak burning in his chest, but the sound of the car arriving kept him quiet. Buck let him in first with an overly exaggerated sweep of his arm. Bucky settled into his seat with a laugh as Buck climbed in after him.

"Oh," Buck glanced down at his phone. His fingers tapped over the screen, but Bucky couldn't see who was texting him. "It's Curt."

"Really?" Bucky glanced down at his own phone checking his messages. Nothing from Curt.

"Yeah, he wants to know if you wanna go out tonight?" Buck frowns. "I'll tell him no."

"You know what?" Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket. What better way to see the pair interact? "Let's do it. Paint the town red, right Buck?"

✨️

[melkyt]

Major Character Death, Post Canon, Older Lawlu. The end of their journey and maybe the beginning of a new one.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56080912

“We got old, huh Traffy?” Luffy groans as he settles down on the bench. The sun dances over the waves that crash against the beach. His ship is a small miniature version of the merry that he uses to get around these days. 

“Forty isn’t that old, Luffy” Law scratches at his graying beard. There is an ache in his joints that not even his power can do anything about. The white splotches that he had grown to know well through his life have started to spread again as if his disease is catching up to him after being dormant for so many years. There is nothing his fruit can do about it anymore. There is only so much of a beating his body can take. 

“It is for us, shishishi” He laughs with that distinct trill that has not changed over the decades. It is the sound of freedom. “Think I’m ready to go Traffy” His smile is a soft bright thing, part of it is tired. “We had a good life, huh.” He taps on the wood. “Almost boring to go out like this, maybe we should go find a fight.” 

“There is no fight, you made the world ‘boring’.” Law settles, using the words that Luffy has repeated over the years. There is nothing but the ocean and the redline, and the countless ships that traverse the oceans. Yet the pirate age is long over. Its end was run when Luffy first put on the ‘crown’ almost two decades ago now. 

“Yeah, but we had fun doing so” Luffy yawns, stretching, wrapping one arm around Law. “I hate saying goodbye” 

“Yeah” Law settles into the embrace, he has gotten much more comfortable with Luffy’s touch over the years. It feels warm and safe. “They are going to find us here in a few hours” 

They said goodbye at a week-long party, and a memories trip around the world, but now it is all over. They celebrated life, and they celebrated death. There was no use crying about it. Luffy wanted his last moments with the crew to be happy, and they were. “Did you have fun Traffy?” 

Law sighs. He hates to admit but yes he did have fun, in his own way. “I always have fun with you” 

“Ha, of course!” Luffy wraps his legs around Law. “We have the best parties!” He leaves a gentle kiss on one of Law’s cheeks where there is a pale patch spreading up over his eye. “I love you, Traffy” 

“I love you too” Law repeats in turn, with no hesitation. When they were young he struggled with returning the words as freely as Luffy, yet another thing he got used to. They have been through so much together, even more after Luffy’s journey came to an end. It was when their relationship started, when they were not running from one fight to another, but could relax, could be boring just for the sake of it. 

It was nothing but adventure and the freedom to love each other. He has nothing but fond memories of those days. “I’m glad I joined you” Law sits up to meet Luffy’s eyes, forcing the man to untwist his body and sit up until they are facing each other. “I'm glad I met you all those years ago” 

“I’m glad you saved me” Luffy closes the distance, their lips meet. The kiss is soft, gentle. “You helped me so much, Traffy.” 

“I saved you…” Law snorts. “Then what did you do for me Luffy?” 

“Right now, I kissed you” Luffy chuckles, going in for another. He presses his tongue in, tasting Law with enthusiasm that has not faded even now. “I love you, I love you” He wants to say it as many times as he can before they go. “The sun looks so pretty on your skin” He traces the pattern, they always remind him of clouds. 

“You are my sun” Law hums. 

Luffy chuckles. “That's cheesy Traffy” He plops down in his lover’s lap, turning so he can see Law’s beautiful eyes. 

“You’re one to talk” Law ruffles the tight curls, they have tinges of white that spread the more he would use his power. They once thought it would go white all the way, but when the world got boring, Luffy did not need to go all the way in a long long time. “What do you think is out there?” 

“Another adventure?” Luffy chuckles. He does not know if there is another world, or if there is anything. He doesn’t much care, as long as it's fun. He shrugs. “Whatever it is, I hope you’re there again Traffy!” 

“You think we will meet again?” Law never was one for fate, never to believe that there is anything more than chance in the world, otherwise, his life was full of suffering because of some bastard's will. The only god he ever really needed to believe is Luffy. He is flesh and blood. Real. 

“We’re gonna meet in every world!” Luffy's grin never falters, even as he is starting to get sleepy. “That's a promise!” His speech slurs. 

“That would be nice” Law brushes a thumb over a cheek, making the man hum.

“I’m getting tired…” Luffy yawns, eyes fluttering shut. He is starting to fade. “I love you…” His voice is at a whisper. 

Law bends down, brushing his lips over Luffy’s. “Rest now” He feels tears sting at the corners of his eyes. Law promised himself that he wouldn’t cry. His breath shudders. “I’ll follow you, soon.” He feels Luffy’s heart, its drumming falters. That steady beat goes off-tune. It’s getting weak. Not long now. “You gave me everything, thank you” Another kiss, on lips that only just respond. “Room” His power takes longer to respond. There is a small temptation to use his power, to give Luffy back his life. Yet they talked about it plenty of times, and Luffy never even entertained the idea of forever. He never wanted to be alone, not without those he calls dear. Brook gave him a first-hand experience of forever, and only made him want it less. 

Law would never give him that curse, not when he doesn’t want it. “You always do things first.” He feels the time between beats increase. Then stop, the last breath escapes Luffy’s lips. 

Law can't hold back the tears anymore. They drip down his cheeks and sobs escape past trembling lips. “I was always supposed to go first, with everyone” He takes a deep breath. “My family, Cora, and now you” He wheezes. “At least I’m not long behind you” Law cradles Luffy, he wants the last thing he sees to be of this man. He looks peaceful like this, happy as he could ever be. Years ago, this was not the death Luffy would have wanted, he always wanted to go out with a bang, and well maybe he did. Everyone will wonder what happened to the pirate king after the party they threw. Their story will go down in legend. 

“It was a good ride” Law settles back on the bench, looking out over the ocean and the setting sun. He places a hand over his heart. “I never thought I would have a good life but that's what you gave me” He leans back. “I hope I did the same for you.” Law lets his eyes slide close. “I love you, thank you” Law lets go, of his power that has supported him for the last three decades. He lets go of all the that keep his heart beating, his mind working. It’s almost refreshing. Law has not relaxed this much in a long time. The pain starts to fade as his body gives up. “See you in the next life, Monkey D. Luffy” 

[nadsdraws]

By Nature

Tags: post s2, angst, open ending, Crowley's POV

"I don't know what you expected from an angel," an all too familiar voice tells him through the radio speakers as Crowley drives away from the bookshop.

For good.

He doesn't respond, touches his lips instead. It’s incredible how long one kiss can linger.

He didn't know what to expect from it, what it would feel like, how it would taste. He's never kissed anyone in his life.

But it felt right, in the moment. He's seen humans kissing before, he knew what emotion they were expressing through it. He knew Aziraphale would understand. It was his last, desperate act to convince Aziraphale to stay on Earth. With him.

It was all he had.

It wasn't enough.

"What was it this time? Duty? Responsibilities? In the end there is always something more important than us. There always will be." Lucifer's voice drones on.

Do the demons know about what happened? No one was there to see, and yet he's not so sure. He's not sure of anything anymore.

Not after the archangel fucking Gabriel threw away Heaven for Beelzebub and Aziraphale looked him in the eye and said "oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever."

Crowley isn't stupid, everything is in a constant state of evolution, nothing stays still for too long. No one can ever change that. And yet Crowley had hoped.

And then, a knife to his heart — "I forgive you."

Crowley can feel the tell-tale of his eyes prickling and that salty wet liquid runs down his cheek. A very human thing.

"Darling, you should have known better than to expect a member of the angelic host to throw away Heaven for you. They never choose us, Crowley." The way Lucifer says his name makes his skin crawl.

Gabriel did. Gabriel had always been more self-centered, had an ego of a planet. But that's the point, isn't it? Aziraphale is too selfless for his own good.

"I need you."

Aziraphale did what he was programmed to do by nature.

"Tell me you said no."

At first Crowley had been angry, wanted to go after Metatron for torturing his angel like that, making him choose, and then, and then Aziraphale's silence, his worried expression, his fear wafting off of him in waves. "Tell me you said no," Crowley repeated but this time he was begging.

They were not Heaven's or Hells'. Never were. They were Earth's, they belonged to the world. They belonged to each other. They didn't need words to prove it. Crowley got his confirmation in the thermos of holy water, in the averting of the Apocalypse.

Aziraphale was the world to Crowley.

He remembers vividly the way he slammed Aziraphale against a wall in the Airfield base, how Aziraphale looked down at his lips expectantly, and Crowley was so scared. Scared of doing the wrong thing, of scaring his angel away once more, that thing between them felt so fragile. Always fragile. Ready to shatter at the smallest misstep, a wrong word, a gesture.

Maybe Aziraphale was right, maybe it was never meant to last.

"She takes away everything in the end. First your precious stars, then your sight, and now your precious angel."

Abruptly, Crowley stops his car.

"What do you want?" He hisses with the full power of his anger and the tearing of his heart reverberating within.

"Come back to work for me down below, starmaker Crowley. It'll be just like the old times. I'm hearing that a position has just become vacant."

Crowley sighs. He doesn't have passion for his job, never had. He also doesn't have a purpose. He needs at least one to survive.

"I'll be there."

He steps out and leaves the Bentley behind. No lifts here but he can make do.

He gives the world one last look before sinking down below the ground.

For good.

-----

My AO3 | thanks to feraltuxedo for the beta

[menacinmasochist]

I saw your yandere fic and I was wondering if I could request the same but this time with Shu but like no smut I prefer more blood and gore if that's oks w you. Thanks!

Shu’s POV:

Sigh...I did not want to be in the game room with all these loud idiots but I was dragged in. I sat back on the chair, I closed my eyes but even with my eyes closed I could envision everything perfectly. It was Subaru's turn, throwing darts, he wasn't too bad at it..if he worked on his form he would've done better, I opened one of my eyes for a brief moment to observe his form..good, that was much better. He got a bullseye in one shot. I close my eyes again. I didn't care much to play or even watch but sometimes I like to observe. "Since we're all here, maybe we should play a game together?" even with my eyes closed I could tell which annoying mouth that came from, Laito of course. "What do you say Ayato?" he asked his even more annoying triplet. "what will I get when I beat all your sorry asses?" he asked with much confidence in his voice, he's so irritating..."The prize will be Little bitch~ You don't mind right Shu?" Laito chirped, he said my name but I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. I just stared blankly at him. "What? No way, I'm with Shu. I can't be the prize." The prey said, 'I'm with Shu." How hilarious, she's not with me. I haven't even defiled her man eater lower body yet...

"So are you in Shu?" one of them asks me I don't even care to acknowledge who. "No, it's a pain I can do without.." I mumbled. I heard a scoff from Reiji. "I figured you would postulate that sort of statement, he's a good for nothing deadbeat, if you look up the word spineless in a dictionary you would see a picture of him right beside the definition." ouch, Reiji always says such hilariously crude things, regardless I have to show him who's the eldest after all. I get up. "Fine I'll play.." I say. Much to everyone's shock, they're so dramatic it's not that serious, just doing some humbling to my younger siblings. I get in my form, I've always been good at darts...even taught my old human friend how to play..great times. I focused and landed 3 darts into the bullseye. "No way, this bastard actually won??" Ayato whined, Laito awed in amazement. "No fair!" Kanato cried, "Well I guess he is the eldest after all.." Subaru commented. Reiji said nothing, what could he say..? Losers can't talk.

"Shu I'm so glad you won, congra-" she began to say, what a slut..she wanted to be the prize afterall, she wanted me to fight for her, it's rather pathetic but I will make my point clear and instill this into the minds of all my annoying brothers. I grabbed her wrist and turned her, pressing myself up against her back. Of course she began being problematic and moving around so much trying to break free, but I held her firmly, I took one of the darts and held it to her eye. "Make another move and I'll poke your little eye out.." I gently tell her, meaning it. I wouldn't mind gouging out her eyeball and crushing it under my foot..."You were excited to be made the prize for this, weren't you..?" She squirmed and tried to deny it, its honestly pointless. "Shu what are you doing?! Don't engage in such filth down here..!" Reiji nagged, I smirk at all of them. "Hush now, losers can't talk.." I remarked, then glided my tongue on her nape, she was so hot her skin was practically steaming, she was getting turned on by this..? Dirty girl. I won't complain. "No..please let go..!!" she kept panicking, well it was now or never, I bit into her flesh. And it tasted like nothing I have ever tasted before...it was like a hot meal on a cold day, it felt life changing.

I think it was the fear and embarrassment she felt, that's why her blood tasted so good, she definitely wasn't like other prey. I understand now why she was brought to us. Well brought to me. After tasting this blood, I don't think I will be passing her to my brothers, I don't understand why I feel this way..I couldn't care less about any of the sacrificial brides before, but this one...I want to defile her, break her body and suffocate her in a world of pain and despair. I noticed her clenching her silly little rosary. "No ones coming to save you." I whispered in her ear, then teleported us into my room. Her blood is like a drug, I want more and more of it.

This blood was giving me energy to do so many things to this body of hers..I take the knife from my nightstand and press to her cheek. “Take off your clothes” I tell her, “no..! I can’t do that!” She yelled, her disobedient yells were irritating me. I took the knife and sliced her clothes off. She quickly covered herself with her hands, her undergarments looked pathetic, lacked so much sex appeal, you’d think she’d have better undergarments, being the slut she is.. “Please Shu…don’t do this..” she cried, that wasn’t a bad face, I liked her crying face it was contoured with a hidden lust. I slice her chest, lightly and so much blood poured out, I lapped it up. She kept trying to fight me so I took the knife and stabbed right through her wrist and the scream that came with it was delightful, I could listen to her screams all day…she let out her tears and cried uncontrollably at this. “Take it out..! Please it hurts so much..!” She panted out. I rip the knife out her wrist which gave her even more pain but I did what she wanted. I lick the knife, then proceed to drinking the blood from her impaled wound on her wrist. Yea she’s not going anywhere…

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Five]

With this chapter, the first arc of the story is completed! :D So beware if this starts in 1 and ends like in 8/9 jkfjhdkjfjkf

I'm also playing around with a slightly different formatting for my fics, but it isn't like very obvious right?

Viktor x Fem!Reader----Gothic AU/Spooky Sea-----3K----SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T < ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: Even when there's seemingly nothing left to lose, you find yourself fearing still. But all new beginning start with a slight flick of dismay.

Tags: Strangers to Lovers| Haunted House| Ghosts (?)| Arranged Marriage| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Spooky (?) imaginery|

Taglist: @local-mr-frog

The only sound echoing in the middle of the dining room was the clinking of the silverware against the dishes, and the occasional glass settled against the wooden surface of the table.

Your hair was still wet from the boiling bath Viktor coerced you to step inside as soon as your legs felt steady enough to climb toward the house, occasional drips falling from your shoulders toward the worn-out sweater that had been better days; the black wool loose from the knitted geometric pattern around the wrists, softened on the elbows.

You could almost picture it stretched in Viktor’s lean arms as he reclined against the desk, all those books you dusted off scattered over the surface, keen to his scanning gaze.

“I hope the meal is of your liking,” Viktor said, tearing you up from your sidetracked mind. “Not many people like fish.”

You were playing with the fork, hovering it against the mashed potatoes he had thrown in with whatever remnants of food he had in the pantry. "Not liking fish when your family is constituted by fishermen it's like sentencing yourself to starve," you replied despite the way talking about them make your heart sink into an unknown abyss within your chest that howled just like the cliff.

Viktor clutched his spoon, eyes filled with worry that not even the bright lamp hung above your heads could conceal.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, trying to change the topic, for you didn’t wish his pity. “You didn’t have to. It’s truly delicious.” Even if your stomach couldn’t contain that much food right now, each spoonful and bite weighting as if you'd been fed lead.

He observed you, eyebrows slightly raised when you forced the mashed potatoes down—your worrying brain telling you that you hadn’t tasted anything ever since early morning, that it would be rude not to eat what he served you.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” Viktor muttered noncommittally. “Forcing yourself would only make you sick.”

One would think that you were used to forcing things into your life already. From following people that clearly didn't care about you; a life aboard a swaying, tiny fisher boat despite your aversion to deep water; an adult life bound as a perfect housewife to another human in exchange for money without the chance of second-guesses.

You looked at him, thinking the way he pictured you now. As a broken, unstable person that was about to jump off the cliff. If Viktor was rehearsing the gentlest way of firing you, your mind couldn’t blame him for it.

Because your aunt was right, you were too unlovable to find a shelter that would be willing to guard you.

“I think you should go sleep now,” Viktor said, settling the napkin from his legs back to the table. “It’s getting late.”

Your jaw tightened, and a strange dread settled in your heart when you thought about how in the upcoming morning, you would have to say goodbye to the old lighthouse.

The chair scraped the wooden floor with a horrible shriek, and you cringed for being so petty after all the kindness Viktor had shown you.

"Ah, yes. Of course." You nodded, forcing a smile. "Where can I borrow my raincoat?" you muttered, walking toward the living room without daring to see him when you felt his gaze burning at your back.

“I mean here,” Viktor said. “You shouldn’t go outside alone at this hour.”

Because you may truly jump this time, your brain told you. That was it, then. Your entire recollection of encounters with him will be reduced to that fatal misleading call from the hollow echo of the waves scrapping the rocks of the maritime abyss.

“And what about the lighthouse?” You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s my job to keep watch.”

Viktor stood up, his cane thumping against the floor when he took a couple of steps closer to you. You blinked, looking from the corner of your eye at how his hand raised awkwardly only to fall back to the back of his chair before hovering in the air. “You’d been maintaining the power system, so I’d say the lighthouse can stay alone for one night.” He left the crinkled napkin atop his full glass of coffee with milk. “Allow me to lead the way.”

You returned to the familiar second floor, passing further down his office toward the end of the hallway that was flanked with closed doors and wide windows covered in dusty curtains Viktor had to change soon. From the drapes, golden light flooded in flicking pools against the red wood of the floors, the windows vibrating with the howl of the foghorn.

"I'm afraid I have no spare rooms presentable enough for a guest," Viktor said, opening the door of his bedroom at the far end of the hallway. "But I hope you can be comfortable enough here."

“Oh, no, no!” You looked at him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I can’t take your room. Please, I would rest somewhere else.”

He observed your state with a slight smile, barely curving one side of his lips. “Take no mind. I have urgent work to do tonight anyway. You will be using it better than I can tonight.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Is that a coaxing lie?” you had to ask, because how he could have already work piled up when he had just returned from Piltover?

Viktor shrugged. “There’s always something to do,” he answered with an amused smile. Barely an answer at all. “I will be in my studio.” Viktor gestured to the second door to the left, at the start of the hallway. “In case you need something.”

The bedroom was just how you left it, except for the towel hastily thrown in the bed—Viktor had been in a hurry to find where you had been, it seemed. You peeked at his figure as he hurriedly took the towel to put it under his arm. Crumpled bedsheets and the tossed duvet half-laid in the ground, the open curtain showing the ghostly tower of the lighthouse, white and red against the grey of the endless sky, the gargantuan eye watching over ink-black waves, and mossy cliffs.

“Thank you, Viktor.”

He didn't stay long to extend the awkwardness of both your presences inside a single room. Muttering an "It's nothing," Viktor walked away with you watching his reflection from the misted window, his white shirt contrasting against the darkness outside while you seemed to be absorbed by it.

Viktor closed the door with a soft click, and until then you allowed yourself to sit at the edge of the fluffy bed, your hands passing over the worn-out fabric of the bedsheets.

You didn’t wish to pry, but your eyes were drawn to the organic chaos inside the room. This room had been locked when you were cleaning the rest of the house, so papers were scattered over the desk, tucked in the bookshelves. All filled with Viktor’s cursive and tilted calligraphy—written with the inferior velocity of the hands while the brain concocted thoughts much faster.

The door of the closet was left ajar, your feet muffled against a carpet when you went to close it, not without smelling the essence of Viktor’s clothes as the air blew toward you when you swing the door closed.

At that moment, the entrance door creaked open, Viktor's face looking inside.

You jumped backward, almost tripping over a coffer filled with sweaters and shirts.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Eh, I’m… I’m sorry.” He extended a glass of water toward you. “I forgot to bring this the first time.”

Your nails scratched his fingers when you took the cold glass with a shaking hand. “Uh, thank you. Thank you, Viktor. You didn’t have to,” you said with a smile. “I could go for one myself.”

He opened the door enough for his body to slip inside, closing the door behind his back without getting you out of his golden gaze. For some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Viktor?”

He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, getting out your pink and orange shell. "I almost forgot to give you this. You left it in the lighthouse."

The shell was warm from his body proximity, soft and bright against your skin when he put it in your palm. 

The ghost of a smile appeared. "I suppose it doesn't bring much luck to me, huh?" you commented. "Or perhaps it did until I forgot to carry it with me today."

Viktor didn’t say anything, instead placing an elegant hand over your shoulder, long fingers barely squeezing through your sweater. “Perhaps, if I carry it around enough, things will get better,” you added in a whisper.

He chuckled. "We shall see." Viktor stepped away, eyeing the door. "Miss, I would like to ask you to please refrain to get out of the room later tonight," he said suddenly, making you want to seek his gaze. Finding nothing more but a fleeting look from the corner of his eyes. 

“Why?” It wasn’t like you would like to creep around his property when he wasn’t looking.

Viktor stood on the threshold of the bedroom, only looking back at you when he was about to close the door. "Do you remember what I told you when we met?"

You blinked, and he sighed.

“I’m not trying to scare you now,” Viktor said, his tone serious. You could imagine it reverberating in a fancy lecture inside Piltover’s university. “But you should consider my words tonight, at least.”

How all stories might have something of truth wrapped between them.

He left after that.

*~*~*~*

The foghorn startled you awake, in one of those flicking instances when slumber grew thin enough for sounds to filter from reality through the dreamlands. The cliff's screams vibrate in your window. Calling you back.

You sat in the dark room, the headrest solid against your shaky limbs, hands barely swiping away the beads of sweat clinging to your forehead.

When your fingers took the glass off the nightstand, your mind had already accepted that something was off. It was too light, and when you tilted it between your lips, there was no water left.

Viktor's words clung to you like a heavy coat when you slipped out of bed, thinking that rather than go to the kitchen, you could fill the water with a tap in the sink outside the bathroom. Or better, you could ask Viktor to accompany you all the way to the kitchen.

It didn't matter if you felt childish, voice trembling while asking. It was better than the heavy weight of expectation settled in your stomach when you opened the door, the orange light of the bulb above your head mixing with the one drawn with the oil lamps turned off all along the hallway.

You closed your eyes, a sigh relaxing your muscles when all the air was out of your body.

The wood was calm and silent tonight, forgotten the tantrum of early in the day. You thought the house had been amused by the sight of the conundrum, the most interesting thing that had happened in the vicinity in how long.

You stopped at the start of the hallway, where the stairs were sunk in a dim light from the landing below, the oil lamp flicking as if a window had been left open.

Viktor wasn’t in his studio. Or maybe he was, but asleep already. The door closed and the space beneath the wood and the floor tinted in black. You bit your lips anxiously, gripping the glass in a forceful grip.

You swallowed; tongue so dry it made you want to cough for the salty aftertaste clinging to it.

Tap water was it��nothing you weren't used to doing back with your grandparents.

Without thinking, you turned back toward your room, the corner of your eye still and covered in darkness. After a couple of steps, you heard a door closing downstairs, the same cry of rusty metal hinges protesting.

You looked back at the stairs, hoping to see Viktor appear after a night of hard study.

But then, doubt settled in your stomach, gluing your cold feet to the ground. What if he gets upset to see you disobeying the rules of his house? You were already being a nuance with how many things he had been doing for you, from feeding you to saving your life—

Stop, you begged your mind. Stop.

But your mind didn’t. My aunt is right. I’m a nuance. I understand why they wanted to exchange me away.

The light in the first oil lamp started flicking, the supply dying from being kept on all night. From bright yellow to sicken orange to, finally, red blinks.

Your nails got buried in your palm, steps go backward without turning your back to the stairs. The bathroom door was at an arm's distance, doorknob cold when you turned it in your palm, slipping inside so quickly you felt a cold breeze against your cheek.

The bathroom was divided into three parts, the first one with a sink, a mirror, and a cabinet filled with amber glass bottles with shampoo and lotions. You filled your glass there, waiting with your ear against the wood to hear any sound coming from the stairs.

When nothing happened and you felt your eyes weighting from sleep, you opened the door, welcoming the orange light of the lamps that would guide you back to the ajar door of the bedroom.

The stains caught your attention the first second you exited the bathroom. Coming from the stairs down the hallway, stopping in front of the bedroom. The brown outline of muddy feet.

Your heart sank, ironically picking up speed. The glass slipped from your grasp, water absorbing the mud marks closer to you, almost erasing them away.

"Viktor?" you said, knowing that it was impossible. It was impossible to gather mud like this so near the sea, here where everything was endless sand and broken shells.

Nobody answered. You didn't see messy chestnut hair coming from the office door, nor golden eyes squinted in sleepiness and confusion at the sound of broken glass.

A silly thought danced in your head. I should’ve brought the shell.

You returned to the bathroom, finding a cold, uncomfortable bed in the bathtub. The mosaic filtered its freezing temperature through your back, but you weren't shivering because of it.

You had to be seeing things. It was still a dream. You had sleepwalked, painting all sorts of fantasies into the real world. And yet you didn't move, you didn't look away from the tiny window until the grey and black of the sky faded into blue, where the light of the beacon died alongside the foghorn.

Until then, you slipped out of the bathroom with a sore back, peeking out the hallway that still had the oil lamps turned on.

Only that this time, the muddy prints were gone, leaving only the shards of your broken glass behind that prickled your skin when you picked them, walking toward Viktor's bedroom, empty and silent. The glass had opened light cuts on your fingerpads, as if to assure you that it hadn’t been a dream.

*~*~*~*

“Bad night?” Viktor said when you entered the living room. His voice made you jump, hands grabbing the stairs rail with so much force your fingers felt numb.

The coffee table in front of him was dirty with breadcrumbs, and two plates were left on top of each other in front of his untouched toast.

You quirked an eyebrow, wanting any excuse you could hold onto to forget that last night even happened. You didn’t have to return to this damn house at night anyway.

“Did you have visitors?” Who would come so early in the day? Were they still here? You removed awkwardly on your place, feeling your face hot if said visits get to catch you here with him, alone. It wouldn’t do good to his reputation if they were friends who came from the city.

Viktor reclined against the couch. "Your family is very insistent," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beverage. You wanted to recoil into yourself, to become a speckle of dust and fly away unnoticed. "It's alright. After all, it was me who told your aunt I wanted her blessing," he commented, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing.

"Oh, Viktor. I'm so sorry," you started, making your way to pick up the dishes they had left behind. "I've abused your hospitality too much for my liking." You tilted your head. "I—I'll pay you. Please. I don't like to feel as if… as if I owe you something." To him and everyone.

He reclined his chin against his elbow, propelled between the cushions. The living room was slightly dark from the curtains covering the windows near the hearth despite being drawn already.

"Miss," Viktor breathed, his soft voice stopping you midway toward the kitchen, dishes, and cups balanced in your arms. "Please sit."

He’s going to fire me. He had enough of me. And could you blame him?

You sat there, your back stiffening as you felt tears of frustration prickle in your cheeks. The only noise flowing through the room was the distant roar of waves.

Viktor started stirring his coffee cup, movements so forceful the black liquid started pouring over the porcelain rim. His eyes kept you from squirming nervously, shining like twin suns in a clear sky.

“I ask you to please listen to all I have to say before answering—before you even decide to go away, even.”

What? How could you even fantasize to go away from this place that was everything left for you?

With growing fear, your nod was barely perceptible. But he was watching you so closely that he caught the gentle sway of your hair.

Your mind was sent overdrive, filled with a turbulent whirlpool of ideas. He's going to fire me. He knows I snuck out of the room last night. He's the one behind the footprints. He—

In the end, nothing could have ever prepared you for what came out his mouth right after calling your name in such a strange tone, you could try all your life to decipher, only to come out fruitless.

 “I want you to marry me.”

[muzzlemouths]

Use this ask to talk about any ideas you have, either an AU or a personal proyect :D

ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU SURE????

Let me introduce you to a little concept called Red Giant au…

I'm choosing to talk about this AU because it'll never actually see the light of day. Mostly because I already have a whole list of other AUs I really need to be tending to before introducing another, but also because this specific AU is…well, it's mean.

If you've been following me for a while (or have read even one of my stories) you should know by now that I'm a sucker for plots that center around Sun and Moon's (irrevocably bonded) relationship. No matter the hardship at hand they always somehow find their way back to each other and sweep their differences under the rug for another day, because at the end of that day, all they really have is each other. It's a hopeful narrative. A patient and kind-hearted story.

This is not that kind of story.

Red Giant AU is the culmination of brainworms that stemmed from one single thought.... What if they didn't become Eclipse in Ruin?

What if, against all odds, this hardship was the one to break the camel's back. All those years, forced out of their element and shoved into another, the conflicts it brings about, the new stage they're presented with which take their arguments off-script, the back-and-forth of who is right and who is wrong, the crumbs swept under that rug stack higher and higher, and eventually, someone is going to trip.

Sun has a right to be tired, doesn't he? Even the hero deserves a break from the villain, a chance to breathe, to know for certain that he's in the right without having to constantly fight for it. Wouldn't you get tired of cleaning up someone else's mess? Every day? For years? Wouldn't you miss how things were before everything changed? Wouldn't you be looking for something — someone to blame?

And maybe Ruin is his final plea. Maybe it's the last olive branch that he extends in a desperate attempt to convince Moon that this, too, can be salvaged. But Moon is (rightfully) bitter, and he intends to show Sun a taste of his own medicine. Locked away without any say in the matter. No more Sun, no light, only night.

This does nothing but stir up the dust beneath that rug. It rips the band-aid off and reopens old wounds until both parties are speaking with tongues that cut even deeper. It isn't too late, of course. This relationship can still be saved, Sun thinks, if they're whole again. If someone, anyone, would come along and reset them so they could start over and have a fresh start —

But what if nobody ever comes? The plex has been closed for some time now, after all, and they have no reason to believe anyone will be stepping foot in this dilapidated building ever again. His hope surrounding this idea dwindles by the day until finally, at last, something snaps.

Someone tosses a rock through the daycare window, maybe. Debris shifts at just the right angle. A stream of light pierces the darkness, and he takes the opportunity for what it's worth, fighting, fighting, fighting until uneven feet stumble into its warm embrace and he finds enough control there to make a decision that is tangible.

The daycare will remain trapped in night indefinitely, that is true and fact and certain, but the outside? Oh, the outside is bright and full of opportunity. He's carving a path up to that window without giving himself the time to think about it. Hesitation is what got him into this mess, now there is only commitment, and that decision means tuning out Moon's every shriek and shrill, even as he reaches the sill, even as wires are further ripped from their core as he shoves himself through remaining glass.

Do you know what a red giant is? It's a phase that occurs after a sudden, drastic change. Specifically, when the sun begins to die.

This puts something of a deadline on their body. They become a walking timebomb of gears and frayed wires, out in the open world for the very first time, and things are made all the more difficult in that Sun's mental state has frayed beyond repair. Now it's his turn to cause a mess. It's his turn to play the villain. Whatever it takes to carve a new life for them out of the debris they left behind, even if it means doing so with his bare hands.

Even if it means shutting out Moon completely.

After all, why waste any further time arguing when he's finally learned how to put a wall between them? Things will go much smoother now that he's figured out where that handy little mute button is.

But eventually the day must end and the night arrives, and with it, Moon is given a few spare hours to stretch his legs and, eventually, teach himself to do the one thing that Sun has been managing alone all these years...how to put the pieces back together.

drops some art into your hands

side notes:

Sun becomes 'redder' the further he snaps and the longer he shuts Moon out. It's already spread to his chest by the time Moon finds and recruits some help.

Both of their faces are fucked Ruin style, but — either due to the red giant "virus" or his own denial — he's unable to see it in his own face. Looking into a mirror only draws forth an error screen.

While obviously built off of the Ruin DLC and some What Ifs, I have to admit the AU is also heavily influenced by the song You're Not Welcome

Despite not having any (current) plans to write this AU I'd still love to talk about it! If you have any questions my askbox is OPEN 👋

[mabelstone]

ENCHANTED BY TAYLOR SWIFT, YOU CAN PICK IF ITS MATT OR TREY AND YOU CAN PICK IF ITS SMUT OR FLUFF!!

nothing has gotten me sooo excited to write in forever, thank you thank you

was going through a breakup when i started this page so consider this a love letter to myself.. heres a soft one

Until I See You Again

matt stone x f!reader

You plastered the hundredth fake smile onto your lips that night, the muscles in your face fatigued from the forced gesture. You were surrounded by a bunch of snobs blabbing on about things you couldn't care less about, dressed in clothes that cost more than your rent, and coercing fake laughs from the depths of your being.

You felt out of place, a tall flute of expensive champagne that tasted like cat piss warming in your hand, a tight emerald dress essentially suffocating you, and blistered feet your friends heels were responsible for. Life hadn't been too kind to you lately and you desperately needed some positive change in your life.

So here you were, putting your acting skills to the test as you tried your best to fit the façade that would hopefully land you this editing job. Your friend promised you she had connections, they just happened to be twenty years old of you and were fed from the shiniest silver spoons known to man.

You tried your best to seem interested in what ever the hell they were going on about, not that you understood a lick of it. You heard a loud laugh from behind you, out of place, yet oh so intriguing. You turned to find the source; a tall man with auburn curls, small oval-rimmed glasses, and the most inviting, genuine smile you'd seen in a long time. He was laughing beside another brunette, punching him in the shoulder before lifting his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye.

You excused yourself from the group once you'd finished your repulsive drink, opting for another because you were going to need at least six more to bear the rest of the night. You helped yourself in the kitchen, grabbing a pre-filled flute from the kitchen bench.

A voice arose from behind you, not startling, but soft and familiar, as if you'd heard it a million times before.

"Have we met before?" The voice was the equivalent to a warm hug that swathed your aching heart, every atom in your body seemingly magnetised to him. It was him. His aura was incredible, pale shades of purple and blue dancing around him, invisible to the naked eye, but god, could you feel it.

"You know, it's strange. I was honestly thinking the same thing," You started, offered him a shy smile as you leant against the counter. "I couldn't have, I just moved here two days ago." You weren't lying, there was something about him.

"Maybe in a past life," he joked, extending a hand to you. "Well, I'm Matt, and you are?"

"Y/N," you replied meekly, taking the warm hand he extended to you in your own. He had a little gap in his teeth and he smelt faintly of smoke, but nice regardless. He was quite a bit taller than you, his eyes glittered in the light and everything about him was enchanting. First impressions were very important to you, and he sure did exceed everyone in the room.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you. What are you doing hanging with a bunch of middle aged snobs?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retorted quizzically, both of you exchanging tipsy smiles, a sudden lightness filling the space between you.

"My father owns the magazine every one of these jerk off's here work for," he scrunched his nose in distaste, pulling a soft giggle from you. "Your turn."

"Well, I'm hoping to become one of those jerk off's," you shrugged a shoulder, peering at him through a teasing smirk as you raised the flute to your lips.

"Shit- sorry," his cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of pink, bringing a hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. He quickly retracted his hand with a wide smile, a chance to redeem himself, "at least I'll get to see more of you! Unless I just lost all chance..."

"Not even close," you offered an earnest smile just as wide.

You talked all night, discovering you had so much in common, down to the same likes and dislikes in foods, minus the fact that you love olives, and he couldn't think of anything more unpleasant. You scrapped all your plans of sucking up to the boss, instead finding a better change in this new city.

It was incredibly late at this point, time dissolving into nothingness while in his presence.

"There you are!" Your friend announced loudly, giving Matt a small smile that slipped off her face just as fast. "Ubers here, let's go."

You opened your mouth to say an apology, a goodbye, anything to him before you were being dragged away, but he beat you to it.

"I'll put in a good word for you," he smiled, as you reached your hand out to him, your fingertips just brushing as you were pulled out of the room.

The whole ride home, you couldn't stop smiling.

"Do you, uh, know Matt?" You finally spoke up, pulling yourself out of your thoughts and interrupting the splitting silence in the car.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, the bosses son." She mumbled, half asleep. "He's a sweetie. Just be careful, he just got out of a relationship... It apparently got prettyyy messyyyy," she slurred, the obvious inebriation dragging down her heavy tongue.

You'd just gotten out of a relationship too, but you hadn't even thought about your ex all night thanks to the beautiful boy you just met. You thought about what he said, 'maybe in another life.' The potential foreshadowing sending a sharp pain through your heart.

You hoped it would be your first interaction of many, but couldn't build your hopes up just to have them ripped from under you again.

Please don't be in love with someone else. The painful mantra you repeated to yourself the whole way home.

Spoiler alert: you bagged the job and your bosses son.

this was a bit lame i forgot how to write, apologies

didn't proof read either, i did 6 night shifts in a row i am dead

[ghoulangerlee]

Swiss/Aeon ; The Tickling Fic ; M

last Friday there was a video of Swiss getting tickled by the new bug and I sent that to Kel who responded with: "how long do you think it'll take someone to write that fic?"

Hi, I'm here to write the tickling fic I guess.

I use the name Aeon for the new bug haha. Also I don't normally write ghoul/ghoul so I had to resist the urge to add in the old man (my beloved).

rated: M-ish

contains: tickling (is it Aeon's kink? who knows), masturbation, rutting, spit (very briefly, but it's Swiss???)

-

He doesn't quite know why he did it in the first place, crowding up against Swiss as everyone gathered on stage for their final bows, his hands immediately reaching out and grabbing for Swiss' waist, digging his fingers into the muscle.

He feels Swiss jolt against him, hands going down to grab at his wrists, can hear him laugh and squirm—its all silly, a joke, nothing too serious.

That's what he tells himself when Swiss squeezes his wrists just a little too tight before letting go, batting his hands away as they fall into line to bow, and when they bow as one, he can smell the change in Swiss' scent. Full of post show endorphins, full of something, maybe arousal, wafting off of him.

He opens his mouth to inhale deeply and taste and forgets, at the last second that he keeps his mouth covered, because out of all of them, he's the worst at keeping his glamour up when he's not focusing on it intensely.

And then, they're filing off stage as the noise of the crowd reaches a crescendo, and Aeon's eyes are trained on Swiss' back, and the way the sweat makes his shirt stick between his shoulder blades, revealing the definition and shape so beautifully.

He's still new to the band, and will be new for a while now, but he's figured things out recently, with these ghouls, with Papa, how things work after shows, how it's not strange at all for two or three or more of them to break off and find a secluded corner to release some stress.

Which is why he's pretty sure no one really bats an eyelash when he quickens his pace and crowds against Swiss' back again, hands going to rest on his hips as he nudges him forward and away from the others, eyes glowing bright behind the lenses of his helmet as he seeks out one of the unused rooms.

Swiss is laughing, though not loud, but Aeon can feel the way Swiss seems to vibrate against him, his hands dropping down briefly to pet at where Aeon's hands are visible, dragging his fingertips along the backs of his hands before pulling away.

They'd been dancing around each other recently, the tension building up so much even Papa could sense it, a mildly embarrassing moment, to have his boss just give him a look while waving his hand between the two of them as if saying well? are you going to go for it?

And well, Aeon didn't explicitly need permission, but having it made him feel at least a little bit better about not messing up the natural chemistry or whatever.

There's an unused dressing room, the door cracked open just enough that Aeon can see that it's filled with stuff, probably being used as a storage room now, and the heat and want under his skin reaches its climax—he's shorter than Swiss, no doubt not as strong as Swiss either, but Swiss goes easily as he pushes him into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

And Swiss stands there, relaxed, his head tilted to the side, still facing away from Aeon, as if he's waiting for Aeon to make the first move, waiting to see where this is going.

It drives Aeon a little mad, and he pulls his helmet off and shoves the balaclava down around his neck; his glamour is gone now, keeping his form hidden the last thing on his mind as he crowds against Swiss's back, immediately digging his fingers into Swiss's sides almost a little too harshly. A mimic of what he'd done on stage.

Swiss stumbles a bit, catching himself against a stack of cardboard boxes, his head tilting downwards as he laughs, arching his back against Aeon as the shorter ghoul continues to drag his fingertips along his sides, finding all the sensitive spots.

All the while, Swiss' scent spikes, heavy with arousal as his laughter trails off into a wheezing gasp, a plea of some kind.

Aeon exhales, mouth open as he breathes heavily into the center of Swiss' back, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal until he's light headed with it, scrabbling to tug Swiss's shirt out of his pants so he can touch his skin properly.

Swiss's skin is sticky with sweat against his palms, but he shivers and lets out something close to a whimper when Aeon's nails, sharp and long, drag lightly against his sides.

"You are going to kill me," Swiss wheezes out, finally saying something, his voice loud among the silence, among their heavy breathing.

Aeon doesn't respond to him, just presses his nails a bit harder against Swiss' sides for a moment, before he digs the pads of his fingers into the muscle there, pulling more confused laughter out of Swiss' mouth.

Swiss swears softly, hunching over a bit as Aeon tries to press closer, sinking his teeth into Swiss's shoulder, through his shirt, the only place he can really reach like this.

And Swiss has to grab Aeon's wrist again, squeeze it tightly even as Aeon sort of growls around the mouthful of shirt and muscle he has in his mouth, as if Swiss is trying to pull him away from touching him.

(He's not.)

It continues like this for a bit, Aeon mostly focused on trying to make Swiss laugh, following lines of goosebumps as they pop up all across Swiss's sides and chest, his fingers insistent, digging in when Swiss gasps out as Swiss holds on tight to his wrist, keeping at least one hand resting on his belly, right at the waistband of his pants.

(Swiss doesn't quite understand where Aeon is going with this, but he's always up for trying something new, and with the way Aeon's pressing into him, hard against the swell of his ass, mouthing at his shoulder through his shirt, Swiss is all on board for whatever this ends up being.)

He hopes, somewhat, that Aeon's intending to get him off and not just tickle him, however arousing this is without any other stimuli. But Swiss is impatient on the worst days and slightly less impatient on the best, so with his free hand he does his best to tear open the lacings on his pants and get them open just enough to relieve some of the pressure there.

It's as if the promise of skin is enough for Aeon to be bolder in his touch, wiggling free of Swiss' grip on his wrist, his fingers inch below the waistband, into the open vee of his pants and Aeon exhales as his fingertips make contact with the wiry hair at the base of Swiss' dick.

"You're going to have to touch yourself," he manages to get out after a few moments, words heavy in his mouth as his tongue clumsily works through them, his fangs feel too big for his mouth like this, "Can't." He presses the tips of his claws into the hair, hearing Swiss exhale sharply, his scent growing heavier with arousal and Aeon growls a little, "Not now," he mumbles, a whine catching at the end.

Swiss laughs a little, files away Aeon's not quite denial for later when he has more time to think about Aeon's claws near his dick and the implications of that.

Instead, be pushes Aeon's hand away and mumbles under his breath as he shimmies his pants down just enough to free himself.

Aeon's hands are back on his sides, his fingers poking and prodding at muscle and fat alike, dragging his nails along the skin in a way that has Swiss shivering, leaning his weight back into Aeon's solid body.

The first few strokes of his own hand are dry and a bit unpleasant, so he pulls away, lifting his arm and reaching back behind him to nudge his knuckles against Aeon's horns.

He makes a confused sort of sound, drunk on the scent of Swiss' arousal, lifts his head and looks at Swiss' hand, "Hm?"

Swiss rolls his eyes, feels a bit fond for the guy, "Spit," he says, wiggling his fingers a bit, "Since you won't get me off because you can't keep your shit under control," he teases, "I'm not jerkin' myself dry."

Aeon huffs, leaning up to nip at Swiss' fingers momentarily before he spits into his palm, a little off center and wet.

"Satanas," Swiss mumbles, and then he's wrapping his hand around himself again, swearing under his breath as Aeon drags his claws down his sides, ruts against him from behind. "Oh, you wanna get off too, now?" He asks, just to be difficult, "Can't even touch me but you want something from me anyway, huh?"

Aeon growls lowly at that, sinks his teeth into Swiss' shoulder again as if he's trying to get the other ghoul to behave, his fingertips press almost cruelly into muscle and fat, drawing a choked sounding laugh from the taller ghoul as he jolts backwards into Aeon.

In his hazy mind, Swiss also files this away for later as well, wonders if he could push Aeon's buttons even more to get him to really put Swiss in his place.

(He's thinking, somewhat distantly, about Aeon's teeth in the back of his neck while he fucks him, claws digging into his sides as he holds him in place.)

Aeon tries to formulate words, a response, something, but all that's going through his mind is rutrutrut and the scent and taste of Swiss' arousal as it grows with each pass of his fingers on his most sensitive spots, tickling his ribs and making Swiss bend over, holding himself up against the boxes he'd stumbled into while he furiously jerks himself off with the hand not keeping him steady.

Aeon growls low in his throat when he feels about to burst, too far gone to worry about the consequences of coming in his pants, just sinks his teeth into Swiss again, digs his fingers in hard and faster, making Swiss breathless and gasp for air, lightheaded with the pleasure-pain.

And then, Swiss yells, no doubt alerting someone, anyone of where they are and what they're doing, shaking as he comes with Aeon's name on the tip of his tongue.

A low whine catches in Aeon's throat as Swiss suddenly grabs his hands and jerks them away from his sides, breaking the skin contact—his grip on his wrists is tight, almost too tight, but Aeon buries his face into Swiss' shirt and ruts against him until he's stifling his own noises as he comes, gasping wetly against Swiss' shoulder.

Aeon is almost distantly aware of Swiss pulling away, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he'd somehow forced this on Swiss, but those fears are soon squashed as Swiss gathers him into his arms, muttering something under his breath about overeager ghouls wearing themselves out.

In the time it'd taken for him to turn around, Swiss had pulled his helmet off and placed it down on the stack of boxes, and Aeon makes a pleased little noise when he's able to easily bury his face in Swiss' throat, breathing him in.

Sated. Warm. Pleased.

"You're a little demon," Swiss says softly, combing his fingers through Aeon's unruly hair, but he sounds fond, "I bet my shoulder looks like it's been mauled by a monster." He murmurs with a laugh. "You're a feisty little fella, aren't you?" He asks, though it's rhetorical, the little fella really makes something in Aeon's gut burn.

He whines, pawing at Swiss' sides now that the other ghoul had righted his shirt, "Shh," he mumbles, trying to get his tongue to cooperate properly.

Swiss laughs and shakes his head, lets Aeon rest against him for another minute longer before he pulls away, "Alright, well, as much as I'd love to stay here with you, we really need to find the others. The bus will probably leave soon. Don't want to be stranded."

Aeon does not whine at that even though he wants to, he steps back and pulls himself together as much as he can, pulls his balaclava back up over half of his face and finds his helmet, upside down, on the floor.

There is however, a stain on the front of his pants, and though he knows it's not really proper, he doesn't feel shame for it. Thinks about how this is really his first time making a move with anyone in the band, and how long he'd manage to keep himself under control, he's not going to feel bad about it. Not this.

"Hey, Bug," Swiss says, drawing him from his thoughts, his own helmet on now, coming to stand by Aeon, "My bunk tonight?" He asks, somewhat casual as he rests his hand on Aeon's side, his palm wide and warm through both of his shirts.

Aeon shivers, feels the way Swiss' grip tightens a bit, can see the sharpness of his teeth when he grins, "Yeah, yeah," he says, a little bit too eager.

[izacore]

trust me when I say the majority of fans are disappointed if not that tired af this time. yeah you might see some ppl coddling him on twitter but that is a small minority. and those who are not expressing on twitter are letting it out in gcs. Like the fans who have been forever are tiredddd. And that's saying something since he has no new fans this era and most of them are here since 1d. so yeah happy faith in the future with the same old team louis.

Good. This is going to be a stream of conciousness so bear with me, but recently I've been wondering if Louis or lthq aren't a bit disappointed with the fanbase so they stopped nurturing it so much? I mean, I am pretty certain that they hoped for more with FITF release and the fitf tour, considering what kind of venues they booked and how many dates they put out. And imo, if all this happened in 2020/2021 the fanbase would be more than enough to sold everything out and keep the album on top of the charts for longer. I think that maybe they saw the fanbase growth, saw the numbers the livestream pulled and then just took it for granted and thought it's always going to be like that and that fans are going to stay through everything. Unfortunately tho I feel like lthq and tbh Louis too don't really know this fanbase, its dynamic, how it operates and why people wanted to follow and support Louis in the first place so it's hard for them to work out a strategy. I mean, you won't tell me that someone business savvy would recommend pushing with the Freddie stuff that turned off A FIFTH of his 2020 fanbase off if we go off of his twitter engagement. He says that we need him and he needs us and I don't know if it's true in its entirety anymore... I mean he does need us but do we need him? What content is his putting out there for us to enjoy. When we look at the doc alone it's stunts and struggles of a straight laddy lad devoted dad. I'm nkt sure that people necessarily need this person. At least personally the reason why I fell in love with him as an artist and as a person was cause he seemed such an inspiring, fearless, bold and resillent personality and I could believe in him and his fight. This is who I need. Because what exactly is he now against or what is he fighting for? Do lthq and Louis even know why fans feel such a strong connection to him? Why they want to support him? Cause in my opinion it feels like they have they idea of the fanbase completely wrong and I think they kinda proved it with the doc where they shows passion as camping and stalking completely writing off any other parts of his amazing fanbase. What it shows to me is that they only have a surface level knowledge about Louis' fandom and like with everything, the bare minimum is their comfort zone. And now you have this thing with this cancelation, where he didn't even mention what exactly he cancels and who exactly is affected as if hey let's pretend it was all a dream. And comparing it to him writing a lengthy explanation for when they had to postpone the signings for the fans in the UK.... I guess it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I could go on and on and on about Louis' situation but I think I can bring it all down to 3 main points:

1. As long as Louis and lthq don't figure out, that it wasn't the extra laddy lad Louis who sold out the first tour and who people followed back then, nothing will change.

2. Louis and lthq have to stop wanting to be an indie artist with mainstream numbers.

3. Bare minimum won't fly forever. You base your image on your connection with fans and they always show up for you, but when was the last time you showed up for them, when you went the extra mile for the fan experience? If you want the way you treat your fans to be your main thing, then I'm sorry but you could learn a lot from people like Lewis Capaldi when it comes to nurturing and connecting with the fans.

[whump-ventures]

Return to Kethrys

-had a sudden burst of inspiration for this world as a whole and some old characters are getting a revival. Most of them are changing quite a bit (even though if anyone remembers my bastard Edwyn he's not changing much at all and I'm excited to bring him back). Similar world, new plot, similar characters, and a lot of new ones! Should be fun, and hopefully I actually get around to writing since I wrote maybe one (1) drabble last year.

~~~

Clawing her way to consciousness has never been this difficult, but her memory has never been quite as fractured either.

She doesn’t blink open her eyes just yet, letting the other senses gather information. The air is heavy and stale, a far cry from the crisp and clean mountain air that she’s familiar with. The smells are confusing- rats, she can smell and hear their warm bodies snuffling along the ground, humans as well, and hay. An odd combination, especially with some of the humans seemingly healthy- but others not so much. And above all there is the overwhelming smell and taste of metal and stone surrounding her.

Footsteps, from far down the hall. A soft clinking a hundred or so yards away. She’s certain that the stale taste in the air means that they are deep underground, but even here she can hear the faintest song of the wind. Curious- like an opening to the world in such a foreign place-

A miniscule twist of her head and a sudden striking realization that she isn’t in the right form. Arms and hands tied- no, bound- by harsh metal that is behind her back and attached to the wall. Her legs and feet folded underneath her, and there's a deep ache which means she must have been kneeling in this position for quite some time now. She can feel the biting cold through her wrists and on her shins, which is another sure sign of her flimsy human skin, not tough and beautiful scales that can stop even the most deadly weapon.

She would never contain herself to this body unless… unless someone with wards forced her into it.

Silver eyes flash open with a snarl, teeth bared ready for a fight.

There is no foe in front of her. She twists her head to each side, tongue flicking out to taste the air. It’s dark in the- cave?- but her predatory eyes adjust in an instant, adding to her already confusing intel. She wills her body to grow and shift, needing to be rid of this weak and useless body and back into the one that she belongs in: With wings that stretch with scales of glittering obsidian, fangs that are longer than some men are tall, claws that rip and shred with ease. Yet the attempt is met with a harsh flash of light from behind her, and her transformation runs into a wall of stone. Try as she might, the effort to become herself again is met with nothing but exhaustion.

None of this makes sense. In one last effort, her legs bend underneath her, trying to push her to her feet. But the metal bites, bites like a snake in the grass, and tugs her back down to the ground. Another snarl and a twist to fight, and it bites into her again, causing her to growl in a combination of pain and frustration. The claws and fangs that remain in this form are much smaller, practically useless against metal. After a brief moment of struggle to get away from the snake-metal, she finally stops with a hiss, panting in her frustrations.

How did she get here? In this deep cave, surrounded by trees of metal, with hurt humans and healthy humans both off in the distance? Where even is… here? And what is this place? Too many unanswered questions as her breathing slowly returns to normal- or as normal as it can get in this nasty stale air that has no hint of freedom, no taste of sun or grass or the moon or stars. Cold and unforgiving stone, not covered in a perfect layer of snow, not gleaming under the light from above, more stone blocking her from the world above. A dark and terrible place, and one that she has no recognition of. All she knows is that she is very far from where she belongs.

So lost in her thoughts and confusion, that she almost misses the footsteps approaching her.

Another sharp twist of her head- mindful of the snake-metal this time, and her eyes lock onto a woman with flowing hair. The hair is near-white: not the gold of the sun, but also not the pure color of the snow. Her eyes remind Kaelyx of an alpine lake- which only serves to anger her further about the way she has been trapped in such a manner. The woman is studying her intensely, a soft smile flickering across her face that Kaelyx knows means nothing good- she’s seen that expression one too many times.

“So…..” It’s drawled out, the focused gaze never wavering, “You’re finally awake, half-breed.”

A growl builds in her throat, claws scraping against the stone wall behind her as she imagines sinking them into the woman’s neck. But she keeps her mouth shut, eyes narrowed in on the woman like she’s nothing more than a tasty bite of prey.

“You’ll drop that tough act soon enough, dragon.”

Less of an insult this time, but the tone is still enough for Kaelyx to have a sharp image in her mind of ripping the woman’s throat out. She nearly opens her mouth to respond, but once again decides better of it, desiring to get a better idea of the situation before speaking something that she may regret.

The woman’s smile only grows, staring straight at her with that intensity that Kaelyx has only seen on other dragons before. A sudden strike rushes through her when she grasps that this is what it must be like for her prey. What they see, maybe even what they feel… There is no doubt that this woman has the power here. For now. So long as the snake-metal bites her wrists, so long as that strange flash of light keeps her contained in this body- for the first time in her life, Kaelyx is the prey.

“Well, I don’t see any point in delaying.” The tall, sparse, metal… trees- this place makes no sense- click and swing open, and the woman strides in. Kaelyx’s growl builds as she strides closer, and she pulls harder against her trapped hands, wishing she could swing her claws at the woman’s face. That smile could be wiped away with a single slash, and it would be so satisfying to hear the haughty human scream. Maybe Kaelyx can even rip out an eye in the process.

A hand extends slowly towards her, and her fangs flash and snap. As she lunges, that damn bite returns around her wrists. Kaelyx enters a fierce brawl with her own body, willing it to shift, and yet there’s simply another flash that leaves her exhausted.

The hand rests on her forearm, just above the wicked metal, carefully out of range of Kaelyx’s flashing teeth that have a strong desire to sink into flesh, tear muscle, crush bone…

“Any more words for now, darling?”

Darling?

That insult can not be ignored.

“How dare you?” Her words come out as a hiss of rage, shocked to her core at the utter disrespect towards her race. As if a human could even compare to the grandeur of a dragon. "We are far superior to you, and such a revolting slander is beyond—”

A sudden jolt runs through her body, like a living creature is walking through her veins. It's enough of a surprise, so foreign, that she cuts her words off to focus on it. Curiosity battling with apprehension. The energy knots inside her, follow by a grasp around her chest and then a sharp pull...

All the air rushes out of her lungs.

Shock rushes through her, and Kaelyx's immediate reaction is to turn and look at the mage kneeling beside her, looking for any hint to understand the magic at work here. The woman doesn’t speak, nor does she move, her studying gaze never leaving Kaelyx’s own.

An attempt to breathe, and there’s nothing.

Another, and still no oxygen.

A third, and the fear hits.

If only logic and reasoning would have stayed with her, but the dragon, the animal that she is, responds first. And that response is manifested in pure panic. Followed by pain. That terrible feeling of fire in her lungs that she remembers once before when she was young, trapped in a cave and running out of air. But this is worse. Worse because the air is everywhere around her. Worse because as hard as she tries, all that necessary oxygen just seems to get pulled away from her before it can go to her lungs. And then she’s thrashing, struggling, needing to get her claws to her throat, to open her airway, to get some breath into her, to stop the burning- burning- burning that continues to grow and spread.

Her panic grows like a weed, choking her as quickly as the woman that steals her air with just a touch. Her struggles grow weaker, the cave getting dimmer around her. A terrifying thought scorches through Kaelyx, as intense as the fiery burn in her lungs- she’s going to die.

The woman smiles right before her world turns black.

[cheycba]

child abuse. / trigger warning

for as long as i can remember, i have been a victim of some sort of abuse, whether that be child abuse, being forced to be in dangerous, scary and adult situations way before i was ready to, actual physical abuse, or mental abuse. i have had a love-hate relationship with the word 'victim', i'll probably expand on this later, but i don't like to inflate my experience or 'play' the victim, but come is a time where i am comfortable with the reality of the word 'victim'. i felt for quite some time that the word 'victim' was way too dramatic for my situation, but in time i've realized that it's just the truth, and no amount of minimizing i or anyone else can do will change this.

my earliest memories are littered with listening to adults screaming arguments, my mother bloody and bruised, laying in my bed, eyes squeezed shut as i listened to the smashing and screaming rattling the walls and the floor and wondering when it would all end or if/when someone was going to come help me out of my situation. it's almost impossible as a child to understand that you're being abused, because usually the people doing the abusing are the ones you have limitless love for, and if you mix that with the inability to distinguish right from wrong, it makes you incapable to recognize the reality of it.

my mother was the one who would make me feel terrible, scared, helpless, and yet she was the one who would feed me, wipe my tears and care for me. she had terrible taste in men - my earliest ever memory is walking into the kitchen and catching her boyfriend, pinning her by the neck against the cupboards, her feet hovering off the floor, her gasping, sputtering and clawing at his hand. she was usually the one on the receiving end of everything physical, my sister and i just helpless scared spectators. until eventually it was me.

without going into too much detail, i was abused, enabled by my mother, and sometimes she joined in. nothing too crazy, nothing sexual to my recollection, but nonetheless fucking terrifying. and yet i would wake up the next morning, unaware how awful it was, and continue as normal. my bruises would just become part of me, something i didn't pay too much mind to, something i became accustomed to. i would cuddle up to my abuser, i'd kiss his cheeks and i'd tell him i love him because i did love him, i didn't understand as an 8 year old that he was abusing me. there wasn't any big secret, i didn't tell anyone, because i had just assumed that this was normal, that every one of my friends experienced this when they were home. it didn't feel like a thing worth telling. i was never ever told not to tell, which is the thing i personally found the saddest - they just knew i wasn't going to speak. they were fully cognizant in the fact that they were fostering a belief that this was normal. regardless, my first experience with adult men was a negative one, and whomever the men were in my childhood, they were always angry and aggressive, which i think set the tone for everything that came afterwards.

i've gone most of my life since feeling pretty unaffected by it, but at times, i react to certain situations in a way that makes me feel like "hang on, would i have reacted to this information in this way if it wasn't for this?" i find myself in relationships and friendships that i'm not so sure i would be in if not for my experience as a child, i have maybe forgiven too many times instead of removing people from my orbit.

i feel like i am prone to emotionally exploding and overreacting to certain things, as as a child i was pretty much helpless and alone, and now as an adult, i overexert the fact that i have pretty much free-speech with almost zero repercussion. it's not like i can completely lose my shit, cuss and go crazy and there's gonna be a 6'5 scary ass dude beating my ass for it as an adult. so in the past, at any given opportunity, when i've felt hurt and weak, i have gone crazy at others, made myself and others rightfully doubt my sanity in the process.

obviously, at times, it's hard to repress the anger, sometimes it's almost impossible to not be bitter and mad about my childhood being stolen, being forced to live in-between two violent, hostile adults from an early age, and the hardest thing is to not to think too much about the lifelong hindrance this has given me, and the longing to meet the version of myself that this had simply not happened to - i find myself wondering if i'd be a better person, if i'd be more successful, if i'd be happier, what my life would look like.

but at the same time, there are always things to be thankful for. this has given me the strength and willpower to get through other bad things that have happened to me, this has given me the determination and ability to endure hurt and pain because i know it's all temporary and a better day is coming, whether it be near or far from the present. it's helped me to end a terrible relationship when i started to recognize a never-ending cycle of abuse.

i know all this was in Gods plan to prepare me for things that have happened to me later on and it's so blatantly clear to see now. i believe the things that have happened to me in adulthood were unavoidable obstacles and had i not had my experience as a child, i don't think i would've been able to get through them. so despite how negative it was, i know the long-term benefits outweigh those by a million miles. so when i feel angry nowadays, i focus on God, i focus on the strength He has granted me, i know He can see me, i know He is sharing my pain with me, He is present in my suffering, and He will help me prosper, even if He has me face more obstacles, i am trying to take it in my stride as i know He can see my past, He sees my future and He knows exactly what i need to do and overcome to become the person He intended me to be.

[teabreakpancakes]

Appease Me Scaramouche x GN Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Obsession, yandere-ish?

psst @kasdeyalilith @mirology @smittenroses @thatjadedhotmess @shizunxie

btw, how old is scara?, also, i added my own lil twist lol, oh and they wear a kimono because kimonos are pretty, also ngl, I pulled the last bit out of NOWHERE, it was just random, can you blame me though? i've been on here for like, 3 hours, maybe 4

Dark clouds roam the skies

The chain chimes, awaiting change

Howling for freedom

"If I stop playing your game, will you finally value me as much as I value you?" you mumbled under your breath, ignoring the tears running rampant against your cheeks.

Your eyes were stained with anguish, replaying the memory of him checking up on that stupid waste of space green haired researcher. He was so so cold to you, was he even the Kunikuzushi you had fallen in love with?

Why Why Why Why WHY WHY WHY—WHY WAS HE BEING SO CARING TO SOMEONE THAT HASN'T BEEN THERE FOR AS LONG AS YOU HAVE? you screamed to yourself, nearly pulling hair out from your scalp as banged your head against the wall.

"Have I been... r, replaced?" your voice cracked, facial expression falling, gradually growing dark. Gritting your teeth, you rip the necklace around your neck, throwing it onto your shared bed.

You turn on your heel, carrying nothing but jealousy, betrayal, heartache and a lot more words couldn't even begin to describe.

Scaramouche stands before you, breathless. "Please, stay with me, I know, I know what I did was wrong but please, give me just one more chance, just once more, please forgive me" his gaze sincere.

And yet, and yet

You don't want to concede just yet, you wished to see just how far he would go in order to get your forgiveness. The thought of him on his knees, pleading—begging for your forgiveness seemed too good to pass.

It's always been you, you on the ground, praising him and showering him in your attention, how would it feel for him to do the same for you?; Countless fantasies raced in your head, only fueling your desire, your borderline sick fucking desire to see the very man you've obsessed over for decades, centuries even, groveling.

"What if..." you draw out, reaching a hand out towards the puppet, straightening a stray strand of his indigo hair as he watches you intently—"I don't want to forgive you?" your voice fades to a whisper. Tucking the lock of hair behind his ear, you smile sweetly at Scaramouche, finding delight in the way despair pools within those gorgeous indigo eyes.

His mouth falls agape, grasping at the hand on the side of his head. Your expression grows helpless as he presses kisses into your palm—the warmth of his tears hitting your skin, your heart began aching at the sight of him so vulnerable.

You cup his face with both of your hands, wiping away the tears that seemed to be endlessly falling down his smooth pale skin. Crystal eyes stare into your own with desperation, silently begging you to stay as you've always done. I wish you had done the same for me when I cried your inner thoughts cried out, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

He leans into your touch, his hands holding onto you as if you're the only thing keeping him afloat. You kiss his temple, leaving lingering warmth on his cold skin. "Goodbye, Kunikuzushi" you bid, prying away his debilitated arms before turning to leave.

Scaramouche stands there, stunned and unmoving. Once he comes to, your silhouette had almost faded from view due to the sheer distance. He rushes after you—using his anemo vision in order to get to you faster, wiping away his tears messily.

He clutches the back of your clothing, holding back a choked sob. "P, Please, don't leave me, I," his trembling hands reach for your hands. Smack you slap his hands away gently why the hell would you hurt him physically? you loved him way too much to do that. His bottom lip trembles, heart falling to his stomach, Do you hate me? he wondered, clenching his fist.

"N, No, I'm sorry, don't hate me, d, don't hate me please" he pulls on the soft fabric of your clothing. He falls to his knees, burying his head into your kimono. "I'm sorry I'm sorry, I love you so much, don't leave me please (Name)" he sobbed, staining your clothes with his tears.

As much as it hurt to see him like this, it also fulfilled the desire to see him finally needing you as much as you did. But no no no, you mustn't stop the show there, you needed to see more.

"If.. you want me to believe you," you spoke, hooking a finger under his chin—making him look up at you with those tear filled eyes. "You're gonna have to prove it" you continue, face void of any emotion.

Scaramouche almost immediately bows till his head met the ground, "I, I'm sorry! I'll do anything to gain your trust back, I, I just want you by my side again—", you huff, "and I thought Haypasia was the one you wanted by your side" you sneered, voice laced with venom at the thought of that damned researcher ruining and coming in between you two.

"NO, I swear, you're the only one for me, the only one" he swore. Scaramouche began kissing your ankles, attempting to show his devotion. The action causes a soft reddish pink hue to paint your cheeks, the sight nearly making you combust, hell, you felt a damned pervert for enjoying it so much.

A soft giggle fell from your lips, sounding like music to his ears. "I believe you Kuni, get up already" you said, tone soft and laced with cheerfulness. The wanderer sits up, resting on his knees, full of hesitation.

You saw no merit to making him beg more, you had already seen what you wanted after all. Using the sleeve of your kimono, you wiped away the leftover tears on his cheeks. Slowly pulling him up, indigo eyes meet yours, visibly confused.

"I... I thought you hated me?" he whispered, head falling downcast. You hum, pulling his face down to meet yours. Mwah you peck him on the lips, stupefying him.

"No, I was just trying to see if you were being genuine" you hummed, pulling him into your embrace. "I already forgave you the first time... I just... wanted to see if I mattered to you as much as you mattered to me" they trailed off.

"I.. was wrong to treat you like that—I grew to be so used to you being by my side so I—" his voice croaked, tears building in his eyes once more. "Shh, hey, it's alright now, just don't do it again okay?" you whispered.

"I, I don't deserve you" he sobbed out, pulling you close.

extra:

You and Kunikuzushi had gotten married, with the blessing of Ei of course. Shortly after he apologised to you, you both had ventured back to Inazuma.

Of course, Yae nearly apprehended him because she thought he was still the Balladeer, but with the help of the traveller, you of course explained that he's changed and that you've returned in order to get his mother's blessing for your marriage.

Yae thought you were lying until she saw the rings on both of your rings, hell, she even had Paimon rant to her about letting the lovely couple get married already.

Oh, OH but the real hurdle of the entire ordeal was seeing Ei apologise to Kuni, you see, your lovely husband always thought his mother wanted to get rid of him—turns out she just wanted him to be free.

They were laughing about it at first but then they both started sobbing like crazy. "Psst, console your wife, I'll console my husband" I said to the fox lady, motioning for her to go comfort Mrs. Ei already.

Anyways, they made a huge deal out of our marriage, it was kinda awkward to see so many people at the venue but hey, at least we're married now? Mr. Morax, I mean, Mr. Zhongli even made us sign a contract.

Oh and, I told Kuni about the weird obsession I have over him, he thinks it's fine but traveler said I was a yandere?? I don't know what that is, haha.

Me and Kuni and considering asking his mother to make us a kid, because we obviously don't want a mortal kid of ours to die in front of our very eyes, yeah, no.

[tbzxnight]

kiss me if you can

warning: nsfw, contains smut, jealous sex, sex in a public washroom/bathroom, this one is also long (1.5k words, I'm so sorry?)

"Helloo, I'm right here, asking you something!" your best friend, Eric, calls out to you from the Slurpee station, "Which flavour you want? The same old? " You wave your hand signalling yes at him, distracted by the gorgeous man in front of you. "So, all you need is extra gas right? Everything else is working fine? " The man, Sangyeon - his name tag read, looks at you expectantly. He's so dreamy with his bulging arms and big veiny hands - you had to stop yourself from staring too long. "Uh, yes sorry that's all," you say, shaking off your lust-filled daze. Eric comes up behind you, Slurpees in each hand, while you finish paying for everything.

"Hey, actually I was wondering if I could get you number? " Sangyeon asks you, smiling with his eyebrows raised. You grin back at him as you nod and recite your number to him before exiting. Sitting down on the tables outside, you taste your drink and grimace. "Eric, I told you so many times, I don't like blue raspberry mixed in mine," you complain exasperatedly. "Well maybe you should've got it yourself instead of drooling over that guy inside," he snaps, without even looking at you. Scoffing you cross your arms, "What's your problem? " Still refusing to make eye contact, he picks at the skin around his nails and answers, "Nothing, whatever. Can we go already? "

His sudden change in attitude catches you off guard, but you just roll your eyes, men can be so emotional. "Okay fine, I'll just go to the washroom quickly and we'll leave." Making your way back inside, you were slightly disappointed to see Sangyeon wasn't at the cash register as you push your way into the washroom. You're checking yourself out in the mirror, fixing your hair, when the door opens and you see Eric come in through the mirror. "What are you doin-" you're about to ask when Eric turns you around by the shoulder, cups your face with both hands and presses his lips to yours. Eyes wide with surprise, you reflexively pull away from him.

"Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry, I just really like you and I got so jealous outside when you gave him your number, I didn't think-" Eric stammers out, worry lines creasing his forehead, before you interrupt him, practically dragging him towards you by the collar of his shirt. The surprise on his face ebbs away as he gives into the kiss. His strong hands grip your waist, thankfully so as you feel your knees buckle when he deepens the kiss. You pull at each other until you're up against the sink, nearly tripping back over it. "Mm, I didn't even know you were into me like that," Eric muses, mostly mumbled between your resumed kisses.

"Stop talking, Eric," you mumble back. You slip your hands under his shirt, letting yourself feel his taut stomach that you have to admit you admired more than once when you'd caught glimpses of it. The groan under his surprised flinch makes you clutch your knees together a little tighter. He pulls you into a stall, without breaking the kiss, then pushes your back against the closed door. Your arms wrap around his shoulders when he drags his lips from your own down to your neck, your skin there raising in goosebumps to meet his hot breath as he absently grinds his hips against yours. You sigh wantonly, the back of your head resting on the door as you grip his hair tight.

Impulsively, his hand hooks under your thigh and wraps your leg around him. He makes quick work of unbuttoning your top all the way down and pulling it off your shoulders to access more skin he can kiss and suck on. You let out an involuntary moan when he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck causing him to throb against you and tighten his grip around you. Eric's so responsive to you that it makes you want to see him react even more. You reach into his sweatpants, taking his -surprisingly big- erection into your hands and stroke him eliciting a moan from him which he muffled into your neck.

You bend down to drop to your knees, wanting to take him into your mouth, when he puts his arms under your armpits and pulls you back up, desperately whispering, "Next time, next time, I really need you right now. I've wanted this for so long." His slender fingers slip down to your core, hiking your skirt up to trace the seams of your panties, damp from arousal. He looks to you, through his gorgeous lashes, starving and infatuated and waiting for your approval. You nod, more intently than you care to admit, before he moves your panties aside and pushes his cock into you slowly. You moan louder than you expect when he bottoms out inside you, mouth hanging open as you grip the top of the bathroom stall door tightly for support.

Eric's face is scrunched up with concentration as he waits for you to adjust. "Shit, you feel fucking amazing," he groans against your lips. You feel yourself flush at his praise, body buzzing as he smooths one hand from your neck down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach before resting on your hip again. "Okay, move please, Eric," you whine, voiced strained. He smirks, pulling back before thrusting into you. A moan leaves your lips as he rocks into you and you silently thank his powerful hips. The stall door shakes with each thrust, making the metal hinges creak.

You're trying to contain your moans as you were sure the walls weren't soundproof but the way he's fucking into you without abandon leaves you a moaning mess. "You like that, baby? " he asks, his pace unrelenting. You nod in response, but Eric wanted more. "Let me hear you, tell me you love it," he murmurs, leaning into you pressing your body against the door more. "Yes, I love it, Eric, god," you whimper, your thighs shaking. "Huh, it doesn't sound like it," Eric says, rolling his hips and inducing a loud mewl from you while he smirks at the result of his effort.

Just then, you hear the door of the washroom open. You both exchange panicked looks, Eric slaps his hand over your mouth and completely stops his movements. As the person walks to the mirror, he wraps your other leg around his waist too so only his legs were visible from under the door. The person starts whistling as they enter the stall right next to you and Eric. You try to stay as still as possible to avoid suspicion which proves to be very difficult as he's still buried deep inside your walls. Subconsciously, you clench around him causing Eric to inhale sharply and his cock to twitch.

"Do that again," Eric mouths to you, apparently feeling bold today. "No way," you mouth back, gesturing towards the occupied stall. The corner of Eric's lips lifts up into a smug smile before he resumes rolling his hips, thrusting very slowly but deep into you. You glare at him but it falters into a muted moan as he brushes right against your g-spot when he pushes into you to the hilt. Your toes curl as you will yourself to be silent as he continues his sinful actions. When you hear the person finish their business and leave, you finally let out the huge breath you were holding.

"God, you're such a dick," you say breathlessly, hitting him on the arm. With the interruption gone at last, Eric goes back to pounding into you, holding you tight against him with one arm and the top of the stall door with the other. You feel the tightening in your belly, you were so close and you knew he was too. "Talk to me, baby girl," Eric whispers, giving you a peck on the lips. "Don't stop- please," you whimper, holding his face in your hands. He looks so good like this, his eyebrows bunched together, lips parted and arms flexed covered in a golden sheen of sweat. You've never seen him in this way before, you've definitely been missing out all this time.

Unaware of your intruding thoughts, Eric continues thrusting into you at a relentlessly pace while rolling his hips once in a while to increase your pleasure. Fuck, he was really good at this. "You're mine, baby. All mine and don't you forget that," Eric mutters in your ear, voice low but firm. You're not sure if it was the words or the tone he used to say them, but it brings you over the edge as the coil inside you snaps. Your release hits you and a high pitched moan leaves you lips as Eric holds you through your trembling orgasm, chasing his own high before coming with a grunt, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

After a moment of silence while you catch your breaths, Eric lets out a laugh. "What? " You whisper as he kisses the spot where he had bitten. "Sorry," he murmurs, kissing your shoulder again. "Don't be, I liked it," you whisper. Eric kisses you softly, before pulling back to look you in the eyes. "I love you so much, don't look at others okay? Only look at me," he utters seriously. He looks so concerned and cute, you wanted to kiss him all over. "Hmm I don't know, there's so many hot guys out there," you wink teasingly. "Ha ha, you're not funny," he deadpans, tickling your sides but end up laughing despite himself.

🖤

[keshimasu]

katsuki is dressed for a workout-of course he is, the kid wanted to beat all might and no one did that by sleeping in. shouta should have remembered he was one of the few up so early. he'd started pushing himself at around the same age. but the student in front of him doesn't need to catch up to the rest of class. wait. there was no need to go through the kitchen to exit dorms. had he left a trace of sorts? something to lead blond straight to him like breadcrumb trail? except for food, he realizes blearily. and the blood he'd tracked in that he doesn't remember running through.

bloodshot eyes blink as slow as brain moves. sluggish. slow reaction time. something hot flashes past pale face as he registers that he's not being given the bottle back. as if the adult in the room is incapable of holding it. it would probably spill and he was going to shower anyway which would take care of any sticky remains but he wouldn't drop it. hard gaze narrows even further in case his annoyance is unclear. difficult to chug the whole damn thing like he wants to.

maybe that's a good thing. lips pull away in a swear. there's still dark at the base of his nails, observed from the quiet distance heroes often needed to push through violent horrors. nails connect to fingers connect to hand which goes for his phone. hindsight says shouta should have fumbled his way into an emergency room if for nothing other than documentation. no, the past argues, couldn't risk it. why hadn't tsukauchi made him? it was beneficial to have a medical report on hand for the case against him, not a case an investigation. altered states could make people act out of character. killing should be out of character for a hero.

the screen is blurry and touch of cold has him stilling. damn, he'll have to remember to give katsuki serious commendation for this later. there was a difference between treating fake victims in an exam and very real ones. ones who were supposed to be coherent and in charge and old enough to have their shit together. cool is pleasantly clearing even if he shivers against it. should have changed out of damp clothes. . .he has to remember to restock his own fridge so this doesn't happen again.

that's his title. that gets his attention. peels drooping eyelids back and straightens spine that would love nothing more than to fold over to the floor and sleep there. right. phone. he's calling in all kinds of favors tonight. "hang on-" even in the dark with double vision, sharp eyes can recognize when someone plans to move. katsuki has that braced look to him.

he loathes the position the situation every single thing about this that so clearly states he fucked up bad enough to rely on a person over a decade younger than him. fine. then the kid can handle this too. shouta none too gently presses phone into student's free hand, still aware enough to keep feet under and steady-ish under him. because even if he's somewhat sure katsuki could dead lift him it would still be awkward and unwieldly.

"i'm not gonna keel over," he prefaces and defends his state. "call recovery girl for me. tell her i just need a rapid work up and she has my permission to share the results with...any necessary parties." no one, especially not one under his care, needed to know the details. it was an accident. self defense. asshole had it coming. shouta just needed to cover all his bases while he still could. he's trying to be logical.

logical is the exact opposite of what adrenaline soaked thoughts want to be. fingers brush the wall to guide them. door opens easily he must have left it unlocked in his haste to find a drink. mouth tastes unpleasantly like sour sweet banana. shouta stands awkwardly in the doorway. a completely irrational response to being faced with his own room. his desk splayed with papers to be graded his bed with it's soft dark sheets and several pillows. an extra set of boots sit by the foot of it.

he wonders if he's still flaking blood off black. wonders if he'd contaminated the dorm with crime scene. even for all the year's trauma, the class is still too young to be faced with such blatant realities like death. murder. not if their teacher can help it. "'m good...lemme-lemme change and i'll deal with shit."

early bird gets the worm and katsuki is always pretty hungry; by four in the morning, he's up and ready to face the day — a quick one-two jab and cross in the mirror, a hand brushing through an overgrown field of honey wheat, and he's off to brush his teeth ( die ya damn plaque! ). cold water splashing over his face removes the sand from the corners of his eyes and a wet hand towel draped over the back of his neck kills off whatever sleep still lingered.

he sleeps in whatever clothes he's going to work out in that day, which saves him a few precious minutes, so he's out the door in less than ten. before he can hit the gym, he has to go munch on that worm, a grumbling stomach reminding him that he's human and not a continuous machine like he so often thinks.

the elevator dings its arrival to the ground floor. metal doors open to welcome katsuki to a corridor flooding in silver. the moonlight dripping through the windows creates dancing shadows in its wake that flicker like ripples across a still pond. a cherry half-lidded gaze follows the curls and undulating lanes of phantoms as they shift in their dance within that ethereal haze.

katsuki steps foot into that gleaming inundation, and a quiver tickles the underside of his gut; immediately he stops in his tracks.

fuck was that?

the quiver travels from an empty gut up his spine, turning itself to frost — the damp towel still clinging from his neck suddenly feeling unbearably cold and heavy as the crystallization continues to run up his back, causing his movements to run jagged, slow. only his eyes move freely; they study the room, unsure of what they are looking for but knowing there is something that needs finding. they've been through enough to know better than to ignore this hunch.

katsuki finally manages to move his feet when red spots red smeared along the floor, brows furrowing as a narrowed gaze moves from one drop to another, the pin in his pupil piecing the cherry in his eye so that its nectar spills, intermixing with the matching stains that create a trail for him to follow. so he does.

cautious steps lead him to the kitchen, ‟ old man? ”

well, this wasn't at all what he was expecting — the ice that coats the tense muscles of his neck and back quickly melt, waters turning to a boil that help him move again.

he has learned to keep calm under pressure, yet the young hero can't help but move frantically. an explosive hand quickly taking the bottle thrust at him; he unscrews the cap and hands it over, though he keeps a tight grip on the bottom of the bottle, to help keep it steady as aizawa takes a drink. katsuki takes note of how badly the other seems to be trembling, as well as the sweat collecting at their temple, waves of raven feathers once so lively, now stick to his teachers forehead, limp and sticky.

katsuki has never been good at this whole givin' a fuck thing; extending his hand has always been difficult, no matter who was within its reach, yet having to see one who he admires in such a state of vulnerability ( birdcage wide open, trusting the claw of the cat to enter its space ) urges him forward. a free hand takes the damp towel from around his neck so he may run it across the hero's forehead, dabbin' up the sweat and hoping the coolness of its touch helps to soothe.

an intense gaze studies the man before him; he doesn't bother to ask if he's hurt, instead taking it upon himself to find out — his gaze falls along the others frame, searching for any marks of injury. eventually landing on the others shoes, the scarlet flaked along their surface catching his attention like a siren.

katsuki is able to gather that the blood didn't come from aizawa; which does little to relief / head snaps back up so that ruby may clash with onyx — ‟ oi, sensei. ”

he mutters, stern tone helping to hide the fact he was absolutely shittin' himself. he takes the towel and moves it to rest atop of his teachers head / other hand removing the bottle from his lips and placing it on the floor. he wants to ask what happened ( who's fuckin' blood is that..? ), but knows that's not what matters most right now. so instead he moves to settle himself underneath aizawa's left arm, so that his weight rested mainly upon katsuki's shoulders.

‟ we gotta getcha outta here. ”

slowly beginning to walk out of the kitchen and into the darkened hall, katsuki makes sure he isn't the one leading, still giving that right to his sensei as they make their way down the hall towards his room — he'll make sure to come back down to clean up the blood before anyone else wakes up.