#Saint-just is going through it ya’ll

[misscalming]

Who ordered a um… *checks receipt* a Frev timeloop au?

[stardustgates]

Author’s Notes: Possibly OOC behaviour? I’ve done my best to stick by Canon as much as I can, but given I’m a newer player, I don’t know the relationship between Kafka and Silver Wolf or the characters individually as well I’d like to. Though I did do my best, please be aware that I may have taken some creative liberties in their characterisation and inner thoughts regarding each other. Also I am aware that this may just be 5.5k words of nonsensical BS but I haven’t written proper fanfiction in a hot minute so take it with a grain of salt. Not so much of a reader/canon thing and more like a reader AND canon thing currently. Perhaps that will change in future works, who’s to say? Oh yeah this is a SAGAU.

Warnings: Canonical In-game violence, references and descriptions of dissociation via player-induced body possession, references to drug use (one sentence), yandere tones if you squint really hard (shes a slowburner ya’ll), and a single swear word :3

Beyond the mind, within your body.

Description: Unaware that your presence has been made apparent to the eccentric duo during your first run through of Honkai Star Rail, you happily indulge yourself in the immersive (tutorial) world before your eyes. Kafka and Silver Wolf attempt to adjust to the feeling it brings, which leaves their minds constantly switching between distrust and euphoria, and all the things in between.

Word Count: 5.5k

Hoyoverse’s newest game hadn’t seemed much to your liking when you’d first heard the announcement. For one thing, you weren’t particularly pleased with the constant stream of ‘HONKAI STAR RAIL - PLAY NOW’ interrupting your YouTube doom-scrolling every other ad; Not to mention, you weren’t very keen on the gacha aspect. 

Within your small circle of friends, you’d been known to cave easily when attractive anime characters were involved and you weren’t planning on another hyperfiction to solidify your position as the group’s resident simp. That being said, with such a title swaying above your head like a shiny silver dagger, you’d held a metaphorical death grip on your wallet, solemnly swearing that you’d keep your distance from the game for as long you were able.

Ultimately that so-called iron will of yours didn’t last so much as a year, as just seven months after its release a simple character trailer was enough to break your steadfast resilience. Well, it wasn’t ‘simple’, if you were being honest with yourself- It was a brilliantly unique masterpiece, tailored to the exact essence and spirit of his character. You were sure Argenti wouldn’t be released for a good while, so you decided to pick up the game and grind what you could before his arrival.

That was your plan at least. Your friend had warned you a few months prior (Though admittedly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.) that the download and installation would take an exhaustingly long time. Well, it was better than Genshin Impact had been- but still, you were getting bored and subsequently decided to fetch yourself something to drink in the meantime.

With your back turned to the loading screen, you waltzed out of your bedroom with little care in the world- oblivious to the ominous glowing cracks slowly sprawling across the screen of your device.

As you returned a few moments later, you found that it had finally finished installing! You’d certainly waited long enough. Sure, it wasn’t as soul-sucking as Genshin had been but your patience wasn't that of a saint’s either. With a renewed sense of anticipation, you hit start and breezed through the usual terms and conditions without reading anything and let out a sigh at the beautiful change in scenery.

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to skip it completely- but you had spent so long waiting already that you weren’t going to bother wasting time reading a document filled with dolled-up words you could barely pronounce.

✄————————————————

 Herta’s Space Station’s defences hadn't been particularly difficult to slip past surprisingly, though Kafka didn’t recall any mention of difficulty regarding entry in Elio’s script, so she supposed the lack of security wasn’t of any particular importance.

Despite the calm confidence that usually accompanied her on these little operations, Kafka couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched. It wasn’t the usual sort of lingering gaze or sharpened stare, but a vague pulsating heartbeat that faded in and out, as though blinking through blurry vision. 

Needless to say, she kept her guard up. Playing none the wiser and bowing mid-air to the tempo of a rather graceful tune. She forced her shoulders to relax and gently swayed her body, controlling her every little move with practised ease- even as that strange pulsating presence slowly sped up and stroked the fires of an oncoming headache- as the elevator descended to the station’s ‘ground’ floor.

 (You remained none the wiser to her sudden awareness, the rapidly changing scenes flashing past your eyes far too quickly to pick up on a single, brief second of stillness in her body.) 

A sudden explosion reverberates across the station's cold, metallic body and brings Kafka’s impromptu air-violin session to a screeching halt. Simultaneously, that presence settles over her body like a thick blanket of fog. That ‘gaze’ she had felt becoming so vivid she could feel its weight pressing down on her tongue.

She has little time to process the feeling before the usual blueish glow of Silver Wolf’s communications screen flickers into existence before her very eyes. 

“... Seems I came at a bad time.”

“No, No – I think you couldn’t’ve timed it better. Twenty-three-fourty-seven-fifteen system time. Very punctual, Kafka.” Silver Wolf almost sounds impressed, though Kafka suspects she’s only trying to butter her up so she’ll let the girl go off task again. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she would have been kind enough to allow it, but with the nature of their current mission and this inexplicable presence, Kafka doesn't find herself in a very generous mood. 

Kafka merely hums in response and ignores the empty praise.

“Elio always tells the exact future. So What’s with the explosion just now? Was that part of his script?” Silver Wolf picks up on her cue to focus without any fuss.

“Twenty-three-four-four-fifty-nine system time: The pulses from the explosion cause a massive breakdown from the master control system.”

Pulses. Perhaps it’s linked to the feeling curling itself around her senses?

“You did that?” Kafka doubts that Silver Wolf would waste effort on something so minor.

“No, the antimatter legion did it. They completely invaded the space station two system hours ago.” She whistles in response and glances down the glass panelling to the approaching ground floor. A small group… annoying, but manageable.

“Alright, so do we need to fight the legion?”

“Dunno, Elio didn’t say anything about it, so it doesn’t matter.” Hmm. Silver Wolf made a good point. 

“Got it. So from now on, I'll be in charge of this operation.” She feels that tingle of a smirk reach the corner of her mouth, and smiles a little wider in anticipation.

“Copy. Can you let me have some fun this time? Our last few operations turned out to be pretty dull.” Kafka lets out a playful hum as she ponders over her colleague’s request with faux consideration. She can practically hear Silver Wolf’s stifled groan in the second of silence that passes.

“...Sorry~ I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you- our task this time is just to ‘place’ the target properly.” 

Her choice of words is careful, though not enough to cause any alert in potential eavesdroppers. The feeling still hasn’t left. 

“But if you wanna go look for some fun yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“I mean… after all…” she chuckles lightly as the blue hologram blips out of her vision, and reaches for the holsters tucked into her lower back. “After all…” Kafka readjusts her footing just in time to watch the elevator’s doors slide open, the sound of metal dragging against metal pinching at her ears.

“Elio didn’t put it in the script… Why would it matter?” 

Just as the impact from her gunshots flitters across her skin, Kafka feels her mind being pulled back to the edge of her skull. 

The group of voidrangers in front of her feel distant and smudged, the sockets of her eyes creating a blurred tunnel of vision that refuse adjust no matter how much she tries to blink it away. Their dark forms bleed into black speckles that crowd her already limited vision until she’s staring directly into the singed edges of the universe.

Kafka’s body… is no longer hers to command.

✄————————————————

She returns to her mind with startling swiftness. Her memories of the brief battle suddenly bubbling up as though pushing themselves through a thick soup of aether. She feels disconnected from the memory but can at least recall that she’d lost control of her body before blacking out. 

She attempts to think back on that burnt, golden memory but is stopped by a sudden wave of nausea. She opts to set that aside for another time and refocus on the operation. Elio had not mentioned this happening anywhere in the script- so either this had no significance or… 

Still, those Voidrangers hadn’t proved to be much trouble- in fact, they’d been less of an annoyance than she had prepared for. Either she’d been far more ruthless than intended or the antimatter legion had lost its touch.

“When did the anti-matter legion become so weak?” She asks out loud.

“I could only attract this much. Did you really want the entire legion to come here?” Silver Wolf speaks in feigned annoyance, her usual behaviour. 

She hadn’t even realised. Kafka chooses not to mention anything for the moment, instead opting to subtly gauge the extent of control this presence… or rather... Entity, seems to have over her. 

“This lot won’t be able to slow down the Astral Express crew.” Silver Wolf sighs in response on the other end of the device.

“Relax, a doomsday beast is also here.”

As she approaches one of the station’s automatic doors, Kafka feels it slip back into her body as if wearing her like a coat. Its influence feels… less heavy than it previously had been a few moments ago.  At the very least she remains conscious this time; A strange lightness in her feet as she feels herself stealth towards a lone voidranger lounging about the area.

Her movements come to her now like instinct, striking down enemies with admittedly far more efficiency than she was naturally capable of. If it weren’t for her body being strung along like a puppet against her will, she’d almost be grateful for the power and resiliency it granted her. 

Kafka has barely had her fill before a euphoric sense of power seems to swell up all at once; Killer instinct pumping through her veins like a well-oiled machine. 

Ahh. Now this… this particular feeling wasn’t so bad.

Truthfully she’d liked to have toyed with this one a bit longer, but she knew all too well that it wouldn't manage to survive her next attack. She chatters to no one in particular, the ecstasy in her mind clouding whatever decorum she would have usually displayed. 

“Good times never last… time to say bye.” 

“Ah- She’s so cool…”

Kafka tenses up at the stranger’s voice, just as the swirling dark mass in front of her collapses into itself. 

She sheathes her sword and adjusts her gloves, ignoring the voidranger approaching her from behind. Just before its darkened claws reach her, Silver Wolf’s ability activates no more than a hands-width from her shoulder blades.

“Cleaning up other people’s mess isn’t in my job description… y’know Kafka?” Silver Wolf huffs out, but her voice has no real bite in it. Was it her? She wasn’t usually one to doubt herself, but that fog of exhilaration certainly could have played with her mind. 

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you send it Silver Wolf?”

Kafka turns in time to hear the gooey pop of the silver-haired girl’s bubblegum as she hops to her feet. She isn’t sure if it's Strawberry or Grape, but the artificial sweetness and scent of no-fruit-in-particular is so strong it actually grounds her mind for a moment. 

She sighs for no real reason, but it brings her relief regardless. 

Oh.

She hadn’t realised how bad her headache was. 

“Some random Co-ordinates, not important.” She avoids Kafka’s gaze for a reason she couldn’t care to name before taking on an adorably defiant stance, her hands placed at her hips as though it would help her short stature in any way. 

“You care about where that voidranger ended up?” She doesn’t. But she’d rather think about that than, well… She didn’t know what to call it at this point. But it was distracting and she needed to focus on literally anything else for the sake of what sanity she had left. 

Though some could argue that she wasn’t sane at all- which was only half true because most people’s definition of sanity varied greatly from her own. 

Oh, Silver Wolf was still blinking up at her expectantly.

“Of course not- I’m just amazed at this fancy technique of yours, as usual.” she smiles down at her colleague, who only rolls her eyes in response. To the girl’s credit, she’d been dealing with Kafka’s empty flattery for quite a long time.

“Just a little trick of tampering with the data of reality, I wouldn't call it fancy.” Kafka smiles a little wider, following behind as Silver Wolf strolls down the hallway. Her tells were always so obvious.

“What were you looking at just now? Let me see.” Silver Wolf huffs a bit as she settles herself onto a desk and faces her.

“Herta’s toys,” she begins in an almost mocking tone 

“A catalogue featuring the space station’s collection of rare items.” Her fingers briefly tug on the white fluff of her jacket as she speaks “They’ve got quite a looot of interesting gadgets~”

Kafka’s previous interest (however feigned it may have been) dies down a little at the prospect of these ‘gadgets’ but nonetheless she indulges Silver Wolf’s unspoken desire to share what information she’d dug up.

“Like what?” 

“There’s this gun, it can rate any creature within its crosshair as a score from 0 to 100.”

“... Doesn't sound very interesting.” Her brows pinch together and her mouth stretches into a thin line of clear disappointment. Not one to be disheartened so easily, Silver Wolf continues on

“Aren’t you curious how much you would score? I kinda wanna know mine.” 

So this is what she’d been hinting at since earlier. Kafka crosses her arms and takes on the tone of an exasperated mother having finally given up after being nagged at for far, far longer than the reality of it. 

“Fine. I guess we can swing by and play with it, if it’s not too far. What’s our destination?” She redirects Silver Wolf’s distractable attention onto their current objective with practised ease. 

Hmm. 

She feels a little cold for some reason… and those watchful eyes haven't left during the entirety of their conversation. Kafka’s guard raises a little further than before.

Her colleague’s eyes flit down to a small blue hologram, her fingers swiping past various screens until arriving at what Kafka could only presume was a list of directions given to her by Elio.

“Go down the corridor, behind the door… ooon the left. There’s a room where some kind of rare item is stored.” 

Kafka feels the entity strongly now, she stares just beyond Silver Wolf’s shoulders where it feels most concentrated. The feeling she is met with is a dense smouldering hotness. It’s like melting iron dripping down her throat and burning it in the process. It feels almost itchy.

She redirects her gaze back to Silver Wolf far quicker than she’d intended to and resists the urge to scratch at her throat.

“So that’s where the Stellaron is?” Kafka is somewhat relieved when the feeling seems to simmer down. She once again debates speaking on the sensation during the slightest lull in their conversation but when Silverwolf turns her head back to face her, she finds the girl’s gaze to be much sharper than before.

“That's where we can find out where the Stellaron is.” 

Kafka immediately knows that Silverwolf has finally caught on to this feeling and says nothing as she readies herself for the next half of their mission. Almost instantly, she feels the presence shift and roll over her shoulders, like a cat stretching out its limbs. 

It's languid and smooth and she feels her tense- She had been tense this whole time?- muscles slowly relax until she finally feels that usual calm focus she’s so intimately familiar with. She hadn’t realised the extent of how cold she’d felt when it had stepped- strange, it feels like a person?-  away.

Kafka decides that her feelings towards this... Being- She isn’t totally sure if it feels sapient, but it certainly has some form of will… That much she can tell- are mixed, to say the least. She wonders one more why Elio hadn’t mentioned anything about something so foreign and strange but sets the thought aside and refocuses on the task at hand. 

She locks eyes with Silverwolf briefly, and just as she thought, Silverwolf is most definitely aware of it at this point. 

“The central area of the space station is up ahead. There’ll be loads of Legion Void rangers there.” Silver Wolf hops to her feet and saunters toward the door’s control panel. A bit too casual to be natural, but it doesn't cause the feeling to stir, so she says nothing. 

“Okay.” Kafka breathes out. 

Then that feeling of puppeteering seems to stitch itself into her mind once more, albeit in a much more faded sense- it feels more like muscle memory than it does being pulled from her own body. She allows it to pull her along and lead her toward whatever it wants. As her fingers glide over the room’s control panels and her heels click against the cold steel of the station, she feels that fog of exhilaration settle over her again- that almost euphoric surge of strength from earlier suddenly vivid and fresh in her mind. 

Silverwolf seems to feel the building strength in her own body too, as she quickens her pace when they turn the corner to find themselves at the back of a particularly strong-looking voidranger. She huffs out in bemusement and half-heartedly mutters out some encouragement to her colleague.

“May as well kill them all.” 

Not needing much more encouragement than that, Silverwolf leaps forward with as much grace as her short form can allow her and drags her digitally enhanced blade across the muscles and sinew of its chest. She leaps back beside Kafka as it staggers on its feet and tries to regain its footing. Kafka’s arm pulls itself up, gun in hand, and fires out a cascade of bullets that each burrow and pierce into its flesh. 

“This… seems a lot easier than it should be.” Silverwolf comments under her breath quietly. 

“Well, let’s count our blessings–” Kafka is cut off as her arm is singed by the blast of the voidranger’s fire canon. 

“Tch. Didn’t hurt.”

Silverwolf pulls out her holographic system at such speed that Kafka feels the static waft across her skin.

“Hmph, still. This combat needs optimising.” Just as the creature aims its weapon once more, it’s hit with a blast pulled from the loosened strands of reality itself. 

“At that speed? Too slow!” 

Kafka almost feels sorry for it, as she watches its body disintegrate while collapsing into itself.

Unfortunately, the girls are not left with time to bask in their victory- Silver Wolf lets out a small yelp- the entity has left its place on Kafka’s shoulders and draped itself over her companion it  would seem. Her short colleague adjusts to the sensation of its guiding hand far better than she had, if her losing conscious was anything to go by.

Kafka follows behind silently, eyes trained intently on the girl in front of her for any indication of danger.

“Hold it. Someone.. Or something is up ahead.” she warns quietly, arm extended out to her side like a makeshift barrier. They both come to a sudden halt as the entity violently rips itself from their bodies and settles just beyond their skin. 

Goosebumps this time. 

The cold seems to get worse and worse each time it separates from them… well, her. Silver Wolf grits her teeth. Kafka notes the tiny pearl of sweat rolling down the side of her face. Still a shock to the system then. 

“Looks like we’re the ones getting ambushed.”

“...But they’re the ones getting besieged.” 

✄————————————————

The game has felt pretty cool so far, and you quite like this Kafka woman. You don’t recall her being part of the main cast your friend had rambled about however many months ago it was, but you hoped you’d get to see a lot more of her. 

Her design was really nice- though strangely familiar?- and her voice was pretty too! Silver Wolf was alright, but she hadn’t really caught your interest so far, so you werent sure what to make of her yet. 

They did seem to be close though, but less like friends and more like tired workmates who’d been stuck in the same dead end job for a decade- that is to say, it definitely felt like they were used to dealing with each other’s nonsense. 

Were they a ship? You could see it. Ah, another battle, sweet!

The combat system Star Rail used wasnt particularly innovative or anything, but it’s playstyle was strangely addictive- especially the Ult animations! Kafka’s especially had you nearly squealing with how badass it was. Did the MC have a cool one too? You could hardly wait to see. 

✄————————————————

The mood is light despite the circumstances, they both feel a sense of safety and confidence while the presence pulls them along, as though leading them in a dance. The Voidranger’s movements stand out like a pindrop in an empty room. Predictable, and delectably so. 

Silver Wolf barks out a short, quick laugh- a taunting thing that aggravates the musclehead stomping around in front of her- before decapitating the creature in a single, swift move.

“You took the bait, just like that?” Her jubilance is cut short by an attack from her blindspot, it isnt fatal- hell it barely counts as a battle wound- but its enough to flip her mood in the opposite direction. “Tch.”

Kafka laughs lightly at her, amused with her momentary lapse in spacial awareness. Silver Wolf scoffs and scowls lightly at her. Really, like she hadn’t gotten hit before? 

Just as she opens her mouth to hurl a barely-an-insult-but-im-still-annoyed-with-you comment towards the magenta haired woman next to her, Kafka’s aura shifts somewhat. Time seems to slow down for a second as Silver Wolf watches the woman’s pupils dilate in slow motion. 

Had she appeared like this? When that wave of energy had swelled within her?

She receives no answer to her unvoiced question, and instead hears Kafka’s voice ring through out her ears.

“That breathing sensation. Remember it.” Silver Wolf gulps in a breath of blood-scented air and breathes out a sickly, golden-sweet taste. As Kafka’s bullets rain down upon the bodies of their would-be-ambushers she can't help but feel pure ecstasy in the moment. Truly…if this was a drug she’d be hooked like a fish to water. 

Even just being near it is enough to cloud her mind.

“Alright, now that that’s over with…” Silver Wolf’s body relaxes significantly as Kafka speaks, the strength of whatever had possessed them slowing dripping out from their bodies like tree sap. She feels like she just got a massage. 

“I could get used to that.” She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but it feels appropriate to voice. Kafka ignores her and spins her around to face the door, and Silver Wolf seems to go into auto pilot as she unlocks the control panel blocking their path, stepping lightly as her taller colleague gently pushes her forward without a word.

 The monitoring room is completley empty. Nothing but the quiet beeping of a few monitors and the rustling of swaying leaves, courtesy of the air conditioning unit humming softly above them. 

“Huh. not a single soul here. Impressive evacuation work. Did herta organise it herself?” Kafka seems mildly impressed- and entirely unaffected by the sensation Silver Wolf is still trying to shake from her skin. 

“According to the access history, she hasnt logged in her for over six months. The evacuation was directed by the acting lead researcher - a girl named Asta.” 

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, right. Elio said we wouldn’t run into herta. It seems she really isnt here.” Though something else definitely was, but Silver Wolf supposed they weren’t going to be making any conversation on that topic.

She sighs, and scrolls through her holograms nonchalantly.

“Elio’s Script doesnt include any info about the location of the stellaron. Which means in the future he foresees…”

“... we would find the stellaron in a non-physical way?” Kafka crosses her arms, easily having picked up on her train of thought and already dipping her metaphorical toes into several different plans of action. She was always efficient like that. Silver Wolf strolls over to the water cooler and pours herself a cold cup. She gestures to Kafka who only shakes her head in response.

“This space station is packed with extraordinary objects, I wouldnt be surprised if theres one that can make it happen.” She takes a long sip, the cooling sensation bringing relief to her sweltering body. The combat efficiency was nice, but she was left feeling like an overheating graphics disk everytime it took control of her. She idles on a page in her hologram briefly before continuing on her scroll-fest.

“Hiding something extraordinary with something extraordinary… this is pretty Herta. I assume you know what to do? I mean, You’ve been reading that cataogue for a while?” Ah. Perseptive as ever, Kafka never changes. She ignores the heat building in her ears at the prospect of being caught slacking-off, and bins the styrofoam cup as she turns to the older woman.

“Hmph. I’ve got all the clues we need. The only piece missing is a simple trick- maybe this entity thats been stringing us along could lend a hand? After all, it doesnt have a physical form.” 

(You didn’t expect them to involve the player like this! What an awesome storytelling device, and it would hopefully grant a lot more player agency too! Hoyoverse had truly out done themselves this time. Feeling a surge of excitement at being learning you’ll be able to lend a helping hand ‘directly’, you decide that Silver Wolf is also really cool.)

Kafka says nothing in response, only staring down at Silver Wolf in consideration.

“Why dont we have it help us investigate the terminals around here, that item we’re looking for may be inside.” The magenta haired woman only sighs, internally cursing the girl’s lack of caution. Though… she couldnt deny that it had only been helping them so far. 

“Alright, lets give it the spotlight.” 

“Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up…” Kafka stills. The same voice from before. So it can speak? She tucks the information away in her mind for later.

She watches it guide her along the messily arranged desks and flickering monitors. Stopping at a memory storage cart- which is, of course, missing its memory. Not useful for her current objective, but it at least told her that whatever it was could see the same things she could.

“...I cant see the memory storage for this terminal.” Her body shifts slightly.

“This is the monitoring room, the must have deleted the records and made a run for it. Classic.” Silver Wolf is still scrolling through the holographic catalogue, idling against a desk in the middle of the room. She doesn’t look up, even as Kafka is strung along past her towards a monitor on the other side of the room. 

“You don’t seem to be very affected by it? Its control over you, I mean.”

“And you? You seemed a little weary earlier.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just new, thats all.”

Kafka’s hand reaches out to flick through various active surveillance cameras, interesting but ultimately fruitless. 

“Hmmm… I can see the whole space station on the surveillance screen. But not the Stellaron.” Silver Wolf scoffs indignantly behind her, she almost sounds offended.

“Even if you could it’d be a trap. Herta doesn’t display her collections.” She turns to her hologram once more.

“This thing isnt very good with investigating, is it?”

Kafka expects some form of insulted rage to squeak in her mind’s ear, but she hears nothing. Though faintly she imagines a rather adorable ‘Hey! I’m trying my best!’ echoing in her skull.

Kafka staves off the sudden urge to get defensive in response and clamps her mouth shut.

Silver Wolf sighs at her lack of response and shifts onto her feet. 

“Make your way over here then. There’s no point in trying to search like this.”

“So? Got a master plan? I’m all ears.”

Kafka’s tone takes on a slightly irritated edge, for a reason she herself doesn’t quite understand. If Silver Wolf picked up on it, she chooses not to say anything and instead gestures to the warping static of the holographic screens lining the walls of the office.

“Its a matter of hacking the surveillance system directly.” She says matter-of-factly, smirking playfully as her iconic vandalism plasters itself onto every screen in sight. 

“Aha, I see. Herta’s collections aren’t in the system so anything unaffected should be our target.”

Their heads are guided to turn and face the back of a lone monitor by the main desk. Ah. that one then. As they both stroll over to investigate, Kafka feels a strange sense of pride bubble in the back of her mind. Not for Silver Wolf’s accomplishment- that much would be expected from the shorter girl- but for the entity curling along the edge of her mind. What exactly she was supposed to be proud of she couldnt tell, but the feeling was pleasant regardless.

Silver Wolf slips into a chair and slides forward to the desk, cracking her knuckles and wiggling her fingers as she readies herself for some data mining. 

“Crude, simple, but effective. Look, found it.” The computer’s cursor circles a line of code tauntingly. Kafka doesn’t understand what any of the values mean.

“Item number two-eleven, ‘Blind Spot’ : a simple light-deflecting field. It allows an object in its field to pass unnoticed, but if a different item ceases to be obvious, the object gets revealed.” 

She isn’t sure which set of numbers.. Or letters? That item is supposed be, but it does seem like a very… uncomplicated form of security for someone like Herta. 

“So, Herta the genius… hides her collection with something as simple as this?”

“the simplest method is the hardest to spot, isnt that our motto?” 

“Huh? How is that simple?” Kafka nearly chokes on her saliva while trying to hold back a bark of laughter and wonders why she’d kept her guard up for this thing. She follows Silver Wolf towards the glitching hole in the wall and sighs bemusedly. 

“The data suggests its just an ordinary hologram. But it has an added layer… “ Silver Wolf eyes the frayed edges of the hologram cautiously, despite the confidence in her voice.

“Lets take a look. Dont worry, this place wont be our grave.” The girl only puffs her cheeks and steps forward, ignoring Kafka’s words of comfort completely. Well, she’d expected that much at least.

As she follows behind, her vision melts into a stark change of scenery. 

The bright, ethereal glow of the Stellaron coating the walls of the closed off room in a golden-blue light. A strange combination, but one that was all too familiar; the everchanging strands of reality warping and stretching around itself, as the Stellaron sat patiently- sealed away- in the center of the room. Such an otherworldly treasure was exactly what all Stellaron hunters across the universe strove for. Though admittedly it was a mere front for their true purpose, a fact that Kafka was intimately aware of. 

Their true goal would see this stellaron- sealed away, courtesy of Herta- to another use. Once said seal was removed by Silver Wolf, all Kafka would need to do was take hold of it and place it inside that vessel. 

It had been laying in wait for this exact occasion…Kafka smiles fondly at the memory of it. Silver Wolf makes a small noise of surprise, catching her attention. She steps over towards the girl and the control panel, asking a question without speaking.

“It has its own security system… I guess even for herta, a Stellaron is no ordinary rarity.” Silver Wolf sounds genuinely surprised at this fact, though Kafka feels this was a rather likely outcome.

“Can you get it?”

“Of course, even the genius Herta cant compete with me when it comes to hacking.”

“Good. Then I’ll also count on you for the preparation of the receptacle.” Not to mention, she was quite sure this being wouldn’t be able to provide much help if Silver Wolf couldn’t figure it out herself. Speak of the devil, she feels the entity waft away like smoke in the wind and settle in the air around them as she lifts the Stellaron from its prison. She turns to her Silver haired companion and unspoken words flicker between their eyes.

This is Kafka’s decision.

Or perhaps it isn’t, she corrects herself over the distant sound of Silver Wolf’s voice.

 When it enters her body, it no longer feels like being puppeteered or controlled. 

She recalls that first feeling of possession, and the bleeding darkness making way for glowing golden edges of a burnt milky way. Her mind is dipped like an apple into the thick syruppy taste of synethesia. The amber eyes of the vessel- piercing into her soul and leaving her tongue sizzling in an almost addictive sort of pain- briefly flash open before collapsing to the floor in Kafka’s arms. 

The Stellaron has found its place. And something else entirely has made its home there too.

(What an amazing tutorial and intro! You get the feeling you’ll be playing this game for a very long while!)

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne - Christmas Special (1)

Title: All I Want For Christmas Is You - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 1/10 - Seasons Greetings

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC

Words: 2.3K+

Summary: It's the holiday season, and after a very convincing video message from Miles, Lisa, Miguel and the rest of the Spider-gang decide to spend the holidays at Aunt May's cottage in Buffalo. But slowly things start to go horribly, and magically, wrong, and Lisa becomes worried the perfect Spider-Christmas could be ruined. All she wants for Christmas is to spend it with her Spider-Family, especially Miguel.

////////

 “Is this thing on? Okay, okay, we’re rolling!” 

Miles Morales backs away as the camera of his phone records him standing close to Aunt May, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. There’s a wide smile on his face as the both of them appear to be outside in the snow, dressed comfortably for the weather. 

“Happy Holidays everyone! I know this is a bit of short notice with Christmas being a few weeks away, but I’m over visiting Aunt May for the weekend and she gave me the coolest idea! We’re over at her family’s cottage manor in Buffalo helping her move some stuff and we were thinking. . . why not invite you guys over here for Christmas? The entire weekend, we can all just hang out here! We can hang out, watch some holiday films, make and eat awesome food, and even open and exchange gifts!”

Aunt May chuckles at the boy's excitement. Miles was literally acting like a kid on Christmas. It was honestly the most adorable thing Lisa had ever seen. She leaned back in her seat, watching the video message. 

“Again, it’s short notice, but there’s plenty of room for everyone in the gang to come down. Even superheroes could use a break for the holidays, you know? I’ll text everyone the address and just RSVP if you can make it! I know ya’ll want to! Laterz!”

The video message ends with Miles giving Aunt May bunny ears and she laughs at his antics. Lisa chuckles softly at the end card, snuggled in her blanket on the couch in the apartment. Though it was originally Miguel’s apartment, he has since decreed it was their apartment ever since Lisa moved in with him just 6 months ago.

The pair had talked things over and things were going really well after dating for just over two years. So much so that Miguel brought up the idea of them moving in together. He had been such a saint with helping her move in and adjust, making any accommodations and changes if needed.

Lisa loved Christmas, and especially loved decorating for it. She thought Miguel would have a heart attack at the idea of decorating, at least to the level that Lisa wanted, so they compromised and Lisa even brought Miguel along with her while shopping so he could pick out decorations and lights that he’d like. The one downside about his spider-powers was being sensitive to harsh lights, so unfortunately you can't use certain holiday gizmos. 

The entire living space was decked out and decorated for the holiday season, complete with a tree with some presents already underneath waiting to be opened. A good mix of holiday cheer and calm modern aesthetic, it was really beginning to look a lot like Christmas. This was their first major holiday together under the same roof. 

The ultimate relationship test. 

Lisa scrolled through the group chat. It seemed the rest of the Spider gang were on board with the idea. Even Jess, who looked like her baby was due in a matter of weeks, which meant Lisa and Miguel were the only ones that hadn’t responded. Would Miguel want to go?

Keys rattling caught her ear as she glanced over in the direction to the front door of the apartment. Miguel stepped through the doorway and shut it behind him, his coat slightly damp from the flurry of snowflakes falling from the sky outside. “Mi amor, I’m home,” He announced, his voice warmer than any fire roaring in a fireplace. - My love 

Lisa smiled sweetly as she shoved the blanket off of her, sitting up as she walked over to meet with Miguel. “Hi honey,” Her voice was sweet as honey before she gently cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Shock, you’re so warm. . .” Miguel smiled into it, humming in delight as his hands wrapped around her waist. “I’m not late am I? Traffic coming home was awful. I swear, half of the people in this city don’t know how to drive in the snow,”

“You’re fine, Miguel, we’re not meeting Gabriel and Dana for dinner for another hour or so,” Lisa reassured him, helping him take his coat off. “You have time to shower and clean up,”

Miguel sighed in relief, “Thank you mi Mona Lisa,” Shaking off the chill from outside, Miguel tossed his keys on the counter as he sauntered down the hall, crossing the living room towards their master bedroom to use their shower when he glanced over and saw the Christmas tree. “Hey, you finished decorating it!”

“Just a few minutes ago, yes!” Lisa smiled proudly, admiring her work with the assortment of lights, ornaments and streamers. “I saved the star for you,”

“You are a gem,” Miguel smiled at her as he undid his tie, “Pass it over,”

With a bright smile on her face, Lisa reached for the star and brought it over to Miguel who met her half way as they both stood before the tree. Taking the star from her delicate hand, Miguel reached up and put the star on top of the tree. It starts lighting up, matching the glow of the other lights on the tree. 

“Now it’s complete!” She beamed. 

“You are so adorable,” Miguel chuckled softly as he wrapped an arm around Lisa’s shoulders, kissing her temple before looking up to admire the tree. “It looks wonderful, Lisa. You’re actually getting me into the Christmas spirit,”

“You never did before you met me?” Lisa asked him with a genuine curiosity. 

“I mean, sure, Gabriel and I would plan little get-togethers here and there over the years, but,” Miguel brushed off the question initially, shaking his head before he glanced down at her with a soft smile, a glimmer in his eyes. “I just have a good feeling about this year is all,”

“Our first Christmas together,” Lisa smiled back at him, gently cupping his face that was now finally starting to warm up from the harsh cold weather outside. “We’re going to have so much fun, I promise!”

“I don’t doubt you for a second,” Miguel grinned, holding her close. “I can start to picture it now. Waking up on Christmas morning with you in my arms, oh, I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you open your gifts,”

“As am I with you opening yours,” Lisa matched the twinkle in his eyes before patting his chest, gently shoving him away. “Now go shower and get ready, guapo,” - handsome 

“Yes ma’am,” Miguel smirked as he pecked her lips before pulling away, making his way into the master bedroom. He stripped himself of his clothes as he walked into the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind as he turned the water on. “Oh, before I forget! I actually have some news!”

“Really?” Lisa exclaimed, both at his announcement and at the sight of his clothes left on the floor. She rolled her eyes before picking them up and throwing them in the laundry hamper. “I actually have some news of my own too,”

“Care to share?” He called out from the bathroom.

“You go first,” She smiled over her shoulder as Lisa opened their closet and rummaged through his clothes, picking out an outfit for him. 

“Remember that business trip I was telling you about? The conference with some other companies that partner with Alchemax?” He asked her. 

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning it the other week,” Lisa recalled as the conversation replayed in her head as she laid out Miguel’s clothes on the bed. “It’s in Washington D.C. I think. You said your co-worker was going, right? Oscar?”

“That’s the thing,” Miguel huffed, steam beginning to build up in the bathroom. “Oscar caught a bad case of food poisoning earlier today. Had to go to the emergency room,”

“Oh gosh!” Lisa’s eyes widened at the realization. Food poisoning was never fun. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Thankfully, yeah, but the poor guy is like a zombie so he can’t go on the trip anymore,” Miguel finished rinsing off as he shut the water off. Lisa could hear him shuffling around for a towel as he dried off before stepping back into the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “Meaning. . . the board has asked me to take his place,”

“Wait, really?” Lisa shot up, gasping as she covered her mouth. 

“Turns out I was their runner-up,” Miguel shrugged casually, but there was a prideful grin on his face as he approached Lisa, his well-toned, heroic body bare for all to see. “They were really impressed with my report from our last big project,”

“Oh, Miguel, that's wonderful news!” Lisa smiled brightly as she jumped up and hugged him, squeezing Miguel as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “That’s what I call a Christmas miracle,”

“It is!” Miguel chuckled softly as he returned the embrace before pulling away, his smile lowering. “But the trip is pretty close to the holiday. . .”

“It’s one week before Christmas right?” Lisa asked him as she handed Miguel his pants and underwear. 

“Uh, actually. . .” Miguel took the clothes and sat down, slipping his towel off as Lisa stepped around the bed to give Miguel a moment of privacy as she straightened his shirt. “They moved the date,”

“What? To when?” Lisa asked him as she tilted her head up to look at his backside.��

And what a backside that was~ 

“Um. . .” Lisa could see Miguel’s skin heat up as he turned to look at her, his cheeks red. “I fly back on Christmas Eve. .  .”

“You’re kidding?!” Lisa shot up. 

“There’s a storm coming in the area the week the conference was supposed to be held so they pushed it back,” Miguel rubbed the back of his neck nervously before tugging up his pants, sitting up. “The conference ends on the day before and I managed to book the first flight out back to the city that I could find, a lot of flights are booked already,”

Lisa sighed, glancing up at him as she picked up his shirt. “That’s holiday travel for you,”

“Hey,” Miguel spoke up as he stalked around the bed, gently taking the shirt off Lisa’s hands, talking as he slipped it on. “I know it might not be the first big Christmas holiday together that we wanted, but we’ll make it work. I’ll make it work,”

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest, a worried look on her face as she seemed unconvinced. 

“Let me put it like this,” Miguel offered her a smile as he buttoned up his shirt, and took his sweet time doing it. “I’ll finish my Christmas shopping and send them back over before I leave. Then when I do get back home, we’ll have a romantic candlelight dinner, cuddle up in those cute matching PJ’s you got us–”

“How did you find them?!” Lisa gawked. “I was saving them for Christmas morning!”

Miguel laughed at her reaction. “Just be thankful I haven’t spoiled and found out what you got me for actual gifts,” he winked. 

Lisa huffed, although she couldn’t help but grin when Miguel reached a hand out, delicately taking her chin and pulled her closer to him. 

“Maybe I’ll get too excited and can’t wait until morning and give you a few of my gifts,” He smirked, the look he gave her sending a chill down Lisa’s spine. “Let’s just say for one of them, Santa Claus can’t exactly wrap it,”

Lisa’s cheeks flushed, her eyes widening as Miguel’s lips brushed against hers in a teasing, yet tender kiss. “Okay. . .” Her smile curled, her expression turning goofy like a cartoon character. “You promise you’ll make it back in time?”

“I promise, mi amor,” He smiled gently. - my love 

“Fine. I suppose Nueva York can survive with just one Spider hero to protect it for a while,” Lisa smirked as she rolled her eyes playfully. “The city had you long before I came along,”

Miguel chuckled at her response before pecking her lips, pulling away shortly after. Reaching for his sweater on the bed, he slipped it over top of his shirt. “Now, I shared my news. what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Lisa got so lost in Miguel’s dreamy, enchanting gaze that she nearly forgot about Mile’s invitation. Her pupils went wide as the light bulb literally switched on in her head. “Oh yeah!”

She was starting to get nervous. Since Miguel poured his heart out on this plan of his, would he even be willing to even consider this idea? After all, they both initially had their hearts set on spending their first Christmas together just the two of them, in the comfort of their own home. 

Lisa pulled out her cell phone, bringing up the group chat and Mile’s video message. “Well, I received a holiday greeting from Miles and Aunt May,”

“Oh, really?” Miguel’s eyes lit up, both from happiness that their fellow Spider and family friend would think of them and curiosity as he stepped around to look at the phone screen. “What did they say?”

Lisa figured the video would speak for itself, so she pressed play. Miguel watched the video, a playful grin on his face at Miles’ antics. When he heard his offer about the spider gang coming over to the manor for Christmas, Lisa could see the look on Miguel’s face shift, looking surprised. 

The gears in his head were turning after the video was done. Miguel seemed to hesitate briefly, gathering his thoughts as he looked over to Lisa, “Would you like to go?”

Lisa’s heart fluttered, skipping a beat. “You really mean that? I mean, absolutely we can stay and spend Christmas here if that’s what you want. I value your opinion, Miguel, so I wanted to ask. . .”

Miguel’s smile was loving and laced with care as he looked down at Lisa, wrapping an arm around her as he held her close. “I appreciate that, Lisa. If I’m being honest. . .” His smile curled into a grin, his eyes twinkling. “It does look kind of fun,”

/////

Have a happy holidays!

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Jay's Thoughts: Extended Cut

Every time you use the phrase “way down” a part of me gets so excited

OH OH OH- okokok. Nyx i think was the one to point it out in your post yesterday with the sneak peek, smth about Eurydice dying in some versions because she was bit by a rattlesnake and drawing the parallels of that to the feeling in Juno’s stomach and yeahhhhhhh. YEAHHHHHHHH- kisses kisses kisses ya’ll are so smart Also the mental image you’ve created in my head of juno walking “shirt soaked through with sweat”- like, he’s miserable buttttt…. Also… beating myself back so i don’t say something i later regret

THE RUSH I’M GETTING RN IS THE SAME AS THE RUSH I GOT LISTENING TO THE CLEAN BREAK PART 2 FOR THE FIRST TIME OOOOUUUGHGHGGHHGHGH- THIS COULD ONLY BE MADE BETTER IF JUNO MENTIONED THE SMELL 

“...and a wall around his heart. [stopSTOPPPP-] His overalls were covered in muc and brick dust, [lack of care for his appearance which is very important usually to Nureyev] his glasses were broken, and his eyes looked hollow and weary. [MY HEART!!] But, gods, he might as well have had a gilded halo around his head for the way Juno wanted to fall down at his feet weeping and praying.” [IDOLISM SPOTTED!! DEIFICATION SPOTTED!! ANGEL NUREYEV SPOTTED!! MUSE! WORSHIP! RELIGIOUS IMAGERY! GAHHH- this has everything in it that I want and love and its only the beginning….]

“Blesses Saint Peter of the Workers.” OH WE DOING THIS HUH ZEPH??!! OKAY! OKAY THEN- Saint Peter is an actual Saint, he holds the keys to the gates of heaven and is referenced in the song “Sixteen Tons”. A different Saint Peter is accounted as “the wonderworker” for his acts of wonder working in 920 (organizing famine relief and ransom for captives and treating the ill). The Wonderworker was called a Thaumaturgy, someone who performs miracles (which, actually fits the narrative Kabert have built for Nureyev and the Dokana group…)

Oh boy, nothing can go wrong now that Juno has found him! I STAND CORRECTED HE ISN’T RESPONDING TO HIS NAME! AAAAAGGGGHHHHH-

OH THE RATTLESNAKE IS STILL HERE

“Nothing. Just that steady Hadestown rhythm of breathe, strike, lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.” So even Juno can hear it…

“He wasn’t alive now. The poorly sutured gash in his neck was evidence enough of that.” I’m crying. I’m actually crying. I’m coming down from my high writing that Angel of Brahma thing and now this and I’m crying. 

“Juno was nearly crying now [NO SHIT JUNO HERE I GOT YOU BABE, I GOT YOU BABY GIRL, I’LL CRY ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US], scared and desperate, the world going blurry through the tears stuck in his lashes. The rattlesnake hidden in his stomach was letting out another steady hiss, it’s teeth bared in warning once more.” [Rattlesnakes hissing and rattling their tail is indeed a warning sign. This is all a big red flag Juno. You gotta run while you can.]

“I’m here to take you home.” THIS ISN’T FUCKING FAIR-

“And then something strangely extraordinary happened. Peter blinked. And it was like a miracle.” NOT FUCKING FAIR- Buddy is rioting back home. She is pissed, beyond pissed, and IT’S NOT FAIR! NONE OF IT IS FUCKING FAIR!! AGGG- I got something good to share after this, something real good. 

“And a grin more blinding than the sun snuck on to his face, chasing away the despair and melancholy.” I feel like there’s a line you wrote before that is similar to this… I might just be thinking though of how you describe Juno’s singing and his song.

“He looked at Juno, wonder and surprise and love in his eyes, and mouthed a single word. Juno!” OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- I’m dry heaving this is too fucking sweet.

Describing hugs and embraces will never not strike me in the gut. So precious, sacred, vulnerable… THE SMELL! Or at least it’s A Smell. Either way I called it I’m complete. And the fact that Juno felt whole again with Nureyev. Like- he was halved when he lost Ben. He was so lost and desperate and lonely, and losing Nureyev reopened that wound, but now that he has Nureyev back in his arms (no matter how temporary) he feels whole again. Speaking levels.

Zeph I am raising my hand in the air for a big ass high five, low five, mid five- all the hand slaps right now. I LOVE getting to incorporate sign language into my writing, it’s a lot of fun. In some of my earlier attempts, I wrote American Sign up as if it were Glossed, and now a couple of years later I’ve turned to treating it like spoken dialogue. It is a very real experience for someone who is not a native signer to have to switch my brain from English to Sign and struggle to do so so quickly. I am very used to asking people to SIGN SLOW PLEASE LEARNING Makes me curious though why Juno knows sign…

Juno hastily explaining “Jet’s a psychopomp whatever that means” = Juno explaining what the fuck the Ruby7 is

“And then when I got to the wall… I just. I sang.” Something something- original mythos, Orpheus sang to Cerberus and subdued the dog with his sad song. He sang to Charon and got free passage across the Styx because he was that sad. This imagery though is reminding me of that one Adventure Time episode where Magic Man steals Finn, Jake, Princess Bubblegum, BMO, and Marceline’s stuff. And the only way to get it back is to sing a true song from the heart. 

This Juno is very close to S2 Canon Juno. Destructive and hasn’t learned his lesson yet. And now he sort of is but… not really… He called your name before he went. Guess you didn’t hear it….

“Soft like a magnolia petal in early spring with the kind of tenderness and care that only a very deep-rooted love can produce.” MAGNOLIA PETAL??? Language of flowers meaning NOBILITY… hmmm… Rex Glass alias is King Glass… Slip Jackson is King of Hadestown… hmmm….

“growing through the cracks of Nureyev’s walls” LIKE TEH WALLS TO HADESTOWN OOUGGGHH!

And Juno babe- love the optimism. Love the “My name is Juno Steel, and I always get my man” type attitude you’ve brought with you, but that won’t work! Try Again! :D

“You’re not from around here, are you?” OH NO OH SHIT RUN JUNO STEEL, RUN!!

Anndddd Nureyev’s blue screened, he’s hit flight or fight and he chose FREEZE!

“And who the hell are you?” he sounds like a literal child in my head rn lol

“An old friend of Petyas’. [OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT ITS THE SLIPPY BOY-] And the man who owns this city. You can call me Slip. You’d best be going, though. This city doesn’t take kindly to strays.” [OHHHHH!!]

Juno Steel, “I always get my man” = Juno Steel, “I’m not leaving without him”

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” I can hear how fucking smug he is rn

“a sick feeling beginning to snake back into his gut. ‘Tell me what, Peter?’” FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK ABORT- ABORTT!! RUN NUREYE!!!!

“I told you I own this city, and that includes the people in it. My darling Petya [OH OH OH THIS MAKES ME WANNA BITE HIM, HIT HIM, FIGHT HIM- NO ONE OWNS PETER NUREYEV- NO ONE!!! Smth smth “everyone who’s called me Pete wants to be my parent”] I was initially going to keep him from having to work out here, but since he decided he would rather keep company with my workers than me, [yeahhhh- i wonder why.] I decided to let him do some of the work himself,’ Slip shrugged, walking forward and resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.” [the jarring gap between Slip calling him Petya, calling him My Darling Petya, and Juno still thinking of him as Peter… it’s fucking with my head in the best way.]

“It isn’t true… it can’t be true. Tell me it isn’t true.” my brain says this is a reference to “Is it True?” and i’m getting sense of a rebellion? Of the workers turning on Slip and demanding that he give Peter and Juno a chance? Hmmmm? I have hope. I believe. 

“Executives? Would you mind showing this young man here what we do with trespassers?” OH FUCK- not even a “young lady” but a “young man” OH FUCK- Slip’s boutta catch some hands“Suddenly, two large, identical men dressed in brown coats appeared behind Juno. Before he could say a word or move in defense, there was movement, a sharp pain radiating through his skull, and then Juno Steel knew no more.” Huh. huh. HUH! HUH?! WHAT?! He can’t be dead- he can’t be! …right? Mmm- S1 reference on the horizon maybe? Reference to Juno being thrown in Miasma’s tomb? OR SEASON 4 REFERENCE TO PALOMINE CORRECTIONS??? HMMM!!! I’m excited for whatever is to come :)

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 13

this took. a while!! life has been busy recently lol. i feel it is important to note that this part 13 also cashed in at 1,666 words. this was not intentional, but uh. definitely has got some evil undertones.

reading some of the stuff peter says might get a lil confusing- just remember he is signing all of this!! i didn't want to write the word "signed" three million times and sign language is literally a language, just not a spoken one, so i used "said" instead

I SUMMON THEE TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

Way down deep in the pit of Juno’s stomach, a scaly rattlesnake of dread curled up and bared its fangs.

His muscles ached and his shirt was soaked through with sweat, and every few steps came with a cough from the horrible, black-dust air. He’d been searching the walls for hours now, looking for any sign of the tall, knife-thin figure that had sliced his world in half from the moment he walked into it. 

He’d seen a lot of workers. It took a lot of effort for him to not cringe at the sight of them. A hundred thousand faces, laying brick and chipping away at stone, each one looking as bone-tired and hopeless as the next. Some even looked vaguely familiar, distorted into someone he recognized through the dream-like haze in the air. But he hadn’t found anything of Peter Nureyev yet.

The rattlesnake shivered out a tense hiss. He was beginning to question everything. Had Rita remembered what had happened correctly? Maybe he’d missed him somewhere? Was Peter even here?

And suddenly all of Juno’s fear melted away.

There he was. A lone figure against the harsh lava glow of the factories behind him.

Just like he had the first time, he looked tired and disheveled, dirt on his face and a wall around his heart. His overalls were covered in mud and brick dust, his glasses were broken, and his eyes looked hollow and weary. But, gods, he might as well have had a gilded halo around his head for the way Juno wanted to fall down at his feet weeping and praying.

Blessed Saint Peter of the Workers.

Juno broke into a sprint.

“Nureyev?! Nureyev!!”

There was no answer. Peter just kept hacking away at the rock with his pickaxe, head bowed to the ground.

Juno scrambled up the rickety wooden ramp to the top of the wall as the rattlesnake slithered back into his gut. Peter barely noticed him. “Nureyev. Nureyev, please. Peter, please look at me!”

Nothing. Just that steady Hadestown rhythm of breathe, strike, lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

Juno grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Peter’s eyes were completely empty, like the work here had sucked every last ounce of life out of him. Flashes of memory sped by in Juno’s mind. 

Peter laughing. Peter working out logic problems with Buddy. Peter telling stories with Rita. Peter fixing up the bar with Jet. Peter looking at him in wonder. Peter being alive.

He wasn’t alive now. The poorly sutured gash in his neck was evidence enough of that.

Juno was nearly crying now, scared and desperate, the world going blurry through the tears stuck in his lashes. The rattlesnake hidden in his stomach was letting out another steady hiss, it’s teeth bared in warning once more.

“Peter, please, you gotta remember me,” Juno whispered, pulling Peter’s head down to his. “I’m here to take you home.”

And then something strangely extraordinary happened.

Peter blinked. And it was like a miracle.

The hollowness cleared from his eyes in an instant. He squinted slightly through the dim light and broken glasses, and then recognition sparked in his eyes, and a grin more blinding than the sun snuck onto his face, chasing away the despair and melancholy. He looked at Juno, wonder and surprise and love in his eyes, and mouthed a single word.

Juno!

And then they were in each other's arms, holding each other like it was the only thing in the world that existed. Juno realized he was fully crying now, and Peter was crying too. His fist was clenched in Peter’s shirt that smelled like coal dust and sweat and fear but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were here now, and they were holding each other, and he felt whole again. And it was like the world released a breath it barely knew it was holding back.

They stayed like that for a long time, crying and hugging and gently rocking back and forth, until both of them could breathe normally, like the sheer fact of the other’s presence could fix every problem they had ever known.

Juno pulled away from the hug first and kissed Peter hard. “You absolute DUMBASS. What the hell were you thinking, Nureyev? Getting yourself tangled up in the underworld?”

Peter made a slightly sour face and began signing something at Juno, too fast for him to understand.

“Wait, wait, wait. Slow down a minute. It’s been a while since I had to interpret sign, babe. You’re gonna have to sign slower than that.”

Peter sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, but planted a sweet kiss on Juno’s cheek before signing again, slower this time.

"How the hell did you get down here?"

“Jet led me. Apparently he used to work for Hadestown as a psychopomp or something. He wouldn’t go into it too much, though.”

"No, no, no," Peter said, snapping his fingers closed in slight frustration. "How did you get past the wall? No one gets in unless they come by train."

“Ah. Well, that’s interesting. There’s a backroad that I went down. And then when I got to the wall… I just. I sang. I asked it to let me in, said I needed to find you, and the stones just moved aside. I don’t know how.”

There was a pause. Peter was chewing on his lip now, looking at Juno with some emotion akin to reproach on his face. “What’s the matter, babe?”

"I called your name before I… left. And you never came for me."

Juno sucked in a pained breath through his teeth and looked at the rough-hewn ground. “You…. you did. I know.” 

Peter’s expression was rapidly approaching one that looked like it might burst into tears. "You knew? You heard me?"

“No, I didn’t know. Rita saw all of it. She…. she told me the story.” Juno sighed deeply, ran his hands over his face, and squatted down to the ground. “I’m so sorry, Nureyev. All of this is my fault. I should have been paying more attention to you, because you told me that you were hungry and I thought it would be fine, I just didn’t listen, and if I had listened, you wouldn’t be in this mess-”

Juno broke off as he felt Peter’s fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up. 

"Listen to me. This is not your fault," he said gently before giving Juno another kiss. His face had such a soft expression on it, soft like a magnolia petal in early spring with the kind of tenderness and care that only a very deep-rooted love can produce. 

Juno looked at that softness growing through the cracks of Nureyev’s walls and found himself falling in love with him all over again.

“It’s okay, though. I can fix this. I came to bring you home again. I can just sing the song again and the stones will let us back out- what’s the matter?”

Peter had begun shaking his head slowly. "Won’t work," he said, jaw clenched tight and face painted with varying shades of regret.

“What do you mean, it won’t work? It’ll work, I promise, Peter, I can get us out of-”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” 

A booming voice echoed across the wall in response, and Juno watched Nureyev go completely still, eyes wide and face stark white with fear and panic. Juno wasn’t sure who the man in the neat suit walking towards them was, but Peter’s reaction to his voice was enough to set Juno on edge in his defense.

He stood, back straight and eyes narrowed with as much confidence and menace as he could manage. “And who the hell are you?”

The man grinned, and something about his smile made Juno want to punch him. “An old friend of Petya’s. And the man who owns this city. You can call me Slip. You’d best be going, though. This city doesn’t take kindly to strays.”

Juno didn’t move a muscle. The man stared at him, eyes cold and clean and razor sharp.

“I said, you need to leave this city. Now.” 

“I’m not leaving without him.”

Nureyev stood then and turned to face the man, Slip, with a tension Juno had never seen in him before, and began shooting angry words in his direction. His hands were moving too fast for Juno to catch anything more than a few words: “alone,” “deal,” “my voice,” “take,” and “let him go”. Slip’s grin only widened.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” he asked, leaning slightly to see Juno’s face.

Juno looked at Peter, a sick feeling beginning to snake back into his gut. “Tell me what, Peter?”

Peter looked at him painfully before staring wide-eyed at the ground and chewing on his lip.

The rattlesnake buzzed out a tremor of fear. “Peter, what did you do?”

“I told you I own this city, and that includes the people in it. My darling Petya here signed a contract for a job, and now he belongs to me. I was initially going to keep him from having to work out here, but since he decided he would rather keep company with my workers than me, I decided to let him do some of the work himself,” Slip shrugged, walking forward and resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

It was like the world was collapsing in on itself.

“It isn’t true,” Juno breathed, eyes widening. “It can’t be true. Tell me it isn’t true.”

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes. He simply nodded and said nothing else.

The rattlesnake’s hiss crescendoed. Juno felt like he might throw up.

“Executives? Would you mind showing this young man here what we do with trespassers?” Slip called.

Suddenly, two large, identical men dressed in brown coats appeared behind Juno. Before he could say a word or move in defense, there was movement, a sharp pain radiating through his skull, and then Juno Steel knew no more.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Nothing But A Scratch

Ivar x Princess reader

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Tiny mention of violence, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, Ivar may be out of character (Shrugs).

Summary: Ivar is wounded during battle.

My entry for @maggiescarborough’s 400 Followers Writing Challenge! Congratulations Sophie! 😊❤️For some reason, I always write more than 2k for your challenges 😂

I’m not exactly sure what to say about this. I struggled quite a bit writing it. I’m really hard on myself 😅Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Prompt: The character gets seriously hurt.

According to google translate (An unreliable source, I know), moron in Russian is Debil.

Thanks to @shannygoatgruff​ for beta reading

...

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself.

The enemy sword was swift, the blade slicing through his armor and deep into the flesh of his belly.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when blood began to pour from his wound and past his lips, the adrenaline pushing him forward.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when he swayed on his feet, his crutch no longer of use to him.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when his legs twisted, and his body collided with the muddy ground, completely vulnerable and surrounded by his enemies.

…

Ivar dreamed.

He dreamed of Kattegat in the days of his youth, back when he trailed behind his older brothers through the dirt with his hands, only to come to the painful realization that he would never be like them. He dreamed of his mother and her tears, his pride separating them despite how much she pleaded for him not to go.

He dreamed of the salty waters of the Northern Sea and the unforgiving winds that destroyed their ship, splintering it to pieces. He dreamed of Ràn dragging him into the depths of her dark abyss, collecting another prize for her realm of the drowned.

He dreamed of England’s sandy shores, of land ready for the taking, and of the weak-minded men who ruled over it. He dreamed of little Prince Alfred, now a King, holding out his hand to offer him friendship in the form of a chess piece.

He dreamed of Ragnar in the way he remembered best, tired, and decrepit in his final days, a hermit, and yet, in his eyes, he was still the greatest man who ever lived.

It is not your time yet, Ragnar told him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

He dreamed of Kiev and its massive wooden gates, golden palace walls, and luxurious Byzantine silks. He dreamed of the ambitious Prince Oleg, and of sweet, sweet, Igor. He dreamed of emotionless puppets made to stand with perfect posture while he still struggled to keep up with his own.

He dreamed of the Rus princess with the mysterious umber eyes, always seeking him out in a room. He dreamed of her dark hair hidden under white and gold silks, and of the jewels that adorned her neck and wrists, as befitting a princess.

He dreamed of her smile, never fully reaching her eyes, and of the way her fingers stroked his cheek at night when the fires burned bright against the darkness when her maids kept close watch outside her door.

He dreamed of the smooth expanse of her skin, of her gasps of delight, and her moans of pleasure. He dreamed of her mouth on his, the urgency they both felt as she left crescent moon shapes over his shoulders, clinging on to the precious time that seemed to slip away.

He dreamed of the day he stole her away from her brother, away from the shelter of the Kievan court, and into the safety of his arms. She watched her brother die that day, by the hands of her own nephew, her dark eyes glossing over, but never daring to let the tears fall.

He dreamed of making her his wife, of her in a crown of wildflowers and the sun illuminating the different shades of her hair.

He dreamed of her smile, finally reaching her eyes.

He could hear her calling out to him, begging for him to come to her.

Ivar, please, she cried, Wake up.

He tried searching for her, arm outstretched and fingers reaching in futile attempts. It was impossible, his body fighting through what felt like tar. He sunk deeper into the darkness, away from her soothing voice, and into Ràn’s abyss where Ivar the Boneless was forgotten.

…

It had been a week before he had shown any signs of consciousness.

7 days of fever, chills, and silence that had him teetering between Midgard and Valhalla.

For 7 days his army laid low after their truce with the Saxon king. For all the attacks Wessex had endured from the Northmen, he valued peace over war, forgiveness over vengeance. A true Christian king.

Alfred was not ruthless.

For 7 days the heathen army waited impatiently, wondering whether the youngest son of Ragnar was to survive, or whether a funeral was to be organized. Some believed he would die. Of course, the wound he received at the hands of a Saxon warrior was a deadly one. A deep gash across his stomach had been opened to infection, causing the fever to take hold of him the first few nights. His legs, more shattered than ever, would make surviving seemingly impossible.

But still, they waited.

The former princess of Kiev waited by his side, as still as a statue of a saint. She kept watch over him at night when the rest of the army was asleep, feeling more lost than she ever did in her brother’s court. She prayed for his soul rigorously, cross clutched tightly in her hand, hard enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

7 days of uncertainty, of prayer and fasting, of fear and loneliness. 7 days of hope and hopelessness, surrounded by untrustworthy men.

But still, she waited.

…

It was the dead of night when Ivar broke from his delirium.

He wasn’t on the battlefield anymore. He couldn’t hear the screams of his fellow warriors, the clashing of sword against sword, nor could he smell the scent of iron spewing from the blood of both enemy and ally. It was just...darkness.

Perhaps he was in Valhalla, he thought, though if that were true, then the stories were wrong. It was rather underwhelming.

But no, he was not in Valhalla either, not by the scent at least. It smelled of dried herbs, and of that revolting root the Rus princess often drank as a tea. What was it again? Ginseng?—

And then he forced his eyes to open, lashes ripping apart after spending days glued together.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he felt as if he were suffocating under the pile of furs thrown over him. His heart was beating erratically, nearly bursting from the confines of his chest as his body fought to stabilize itself.

He wheezed, his throat feeling dryer than the deserts of the Silk Road. His tongue darted out in an attempt to wet his cracked lips with little success.

Moving was an issue. He couldn’t. It hurt.

His attempt to sit up failed as a yelp ripped free from his lips, croaky and in pure agony. He fell back against the makeshift cot with a grunt.

The pain was excruciating, hot, and vicious in his lower abdomen, like a raven fighting to claw its way in. His legs, though always in a fragile state, felt worse than they had in the years since adopting the use of his braces and crutch.

He struggled to crane his neck, quick to map out his surroundings as best he could. He was in his own tent, that much was evident, as he always had it specifically set to his liking. His weapons were laid out in a corner, along with his ruined armor, crutch, and leg braces. The useless things landed him in a cot, fighting for survival.

“My love?” Her voice was enough to calm his wild heart, his neck snapping in the direction of her voice.

The princess’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from what he could only assume had been days of weeping. Beside her was a steaming cup of tea, producing that horrible smell of Ginseng that made him want to gag. When had she the time to steal the root before they left Novgorod?

Wrapped around her wrist was her gold beaded rosary, bright and shining in the candlelight. She held the cross tightly in her small fist, knuckles white from the pressure. He wondered how long she had sat by his side, praying, waiting for him to recover.

Her fingers dropped the cross, her soft hands reaching for him. Ivar could feel her hot tears drip over his bare chest as she leaned over him.

“Ivar—” She choked his name, sobs already taking hold of her body as she cupped his warm face, “You’re awake! Thank God!” More tears poured from her eyes as her mouth quivered. She lowered herself to her knees, grabbing his hand and placing kisses on the surface.

Ivar wanted to wrap her in his arms, to tell her he was fine, that the gods have not taken him yet, but his arms felt as fragile as his legs, weak from days of disuse. Instead, he brings his fingertips to her flushed cheeks, forcing her to look up at him.

“Hey,” He croaked out, using his thumb to catch another falling tear before running his fingers through her hair, “Stop crying, please, love.” His voice was not much more than a whisper. He sounded more like an old toad than a human, but it was enough to bring her weeping down to mere whimpering.

“It has been days, I thought perhaps…” She trailed off, sniffling before continuing, “I feared the worst.”

The princess was far more worried for his well-being than he ever was.

Ivar was quite content with the idea of falling in battle and ascending to Valhalla. She had not agreed with such sentiments.

It is not your time yet, his father had said to him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

“It is not my time yet,” He repeated Ragnar’s words, his hand continuing gentle motions through her soft hair, “Valhalla will have to wait a little longer, hmm?”

“Valhalla,” She hiccups, shaking her head, not fully understanding the Viking fascination with death, “Not with the way you throw yourself in battle.” She mutters, wiping her eyes.

She stood, going to the far side of the tent to fetch a bucket with a wooden ladle. She brings a hefty scoop of water to his lips, holding his head up carefully to aid him.

He drank like a mad man, the water running past his chin and down his neck.

“Debil,” She chastised him lovingly in her native tongue, eyes still moist, “Idiot. Where were your warriors?”

“Fighting for themselves,” He gasps, the cold water soothing the dryness of his throat, “Or have you forgotten the ways of war?” He croaks, his lips curling into a smile.

“What would I know of war, my love?” She offers, setting the bucket and the ladle aside once he had his fill, “Or have you forgotten I was but a sheltered princess.” She tried to make a joke of it, but she only sounded miserable saying such words. She brings a hand to smooth down his wild hair, braids unraveling into a long-twisted mess.

“In war,” Ivar begins, eyes fluttering as her nails scratched at his scalp, “You either survive or die.”

“And I suppose you wanted to die then?” A bitter tone was followed by a bitter smile. He cleared his throat, his tired eyes watching how her expression shifted through so many emotions.

His reply was honest. “If that is what the gods intended for me, then so be it. It would have been an honor.”

“What honor is there in taking me from my home, and leaving me to live out my life away from my own family and amongst men I do not know?” She snapped, though the anger was short-lived, and she lowered her eyes.

She was intrigued by Ivar from the moment she had set eyes on him, like a moth to a flame. She was happy to have left with him, happy to have relinquished her title and to have left such a sour life behind. Ivar offered her freedom, adventure, and love, things she never understood the meaning of in Kiev, but she was a fool to believe he was invincible. She had seen him rally crowds to chant his name, had seen his strengths despite his weaknesses, and yet, he bleeds red as every other man does. War takes the lives of men, and Ivar was not immune to such a fate. He welcomed it.

“You are all I have in this world, Ivar.” She spoke gently, as she did when he dreamed of her. Her fingers shifted to trace over the dark lines inked upon his heated skin. The fever had barely broken, but at least he was conscious now. “Please, my love, all I ask is that you stay alive.” Her lips quivered, “I do not think my heart could bear to see you like this again.”

Ivar felt his heart sink.

He knew she wasn’t made to live in a war camp amongst warriors. She was born into a life of gold and silver, into luxury that so many others could only dream of, and yet, she chose to go with him, a fallen king with worthless legs and a heart as dark as coal. He once had the world at his feet. He would do it all again, for her. He had to.

“Do you regret it?” He finally asked though something within him feared her answer.

“Regret what?”

“Regret leaving Kiev with me?” He reiterated, observing her features for any hint of disappointment.

“No,” The response was immediate and without hesitation, “I have been happier with you than I have been all my years in that palace.” She sighs, her hair creating a barrier between them when she lowered her head, “Oleg was not a good man.” Her words were laced in sorrow. Her brother's death still weighed heavy on her heart.

“You deserve more than this,” He said, eyes closing for a moment before bringing them back to her. Her dark brows curved up in a worrisome expression he’d seen on her many times before. “You have given up so much for me, a lonely cripple,” He chuckles when she made noises of protest, “Only the gods know why.” She considers him in silence, noting how unreal the blue of his irises were.

“Ivar?” She questioned, setting her palm on his warm chest and over his heart, silently thankful it was finally beating at a normal pace.

“You’re a princess, my love. The battlefield is no place for you.” He places his hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze.

“All I ask of you is to stay alive.” She spoke softly, her lips curving into a smile, though it wasn’t enough to reach her eyes. “I will not ask you for anything else.” She feared being alone, and rightfully so. She’d been alone all her life in the Kievan court, as expressionless and empty as those Byzantine puppets Oleg was so fond of, donning smiles that never reached her eyes.

“My sweet girl,” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “Come, I wish to embrace you.” Planting both hands firmly on the sides of the cot, he forces himself into a seated position, groaning all the while, feeling the fire burn in the pit of his belly. He grunts, eyes screwed tight as he forced himself upright.

“Ivar!” She scolds, more worried than anything else, “Stop moving! You’ll fester your wound.” She peels off the furs to reveal the gauze wrapped tightly around his mind section, the once white cloth now stained red. “Christ. I must call the healer.”

“Don’t,” Ivar pants, tugging her wrist and quickly bringing her to his side, “Please. I wish for a few minutes to ourselves before I must face the world in this weak state. Grant me this one thing, hm?”

“But your wound—”

“What, this?” He jerks his chin down toward his abdomen with a tired smile, “It is nothing but a scratch.”

“Ivar.” She warned him.

“Princess.” The amusement was clear in his tone, artfully masking his pain. He gripped her waist, tugging her forward and into his arms with a grunt. She smelled of the English forest and of summer blossoms. “I will never leave you.” He mutters the promise into her waist, still ignoring the pain, “I will give you everything you deserve, my love.”

“What of your army?” She questions quietly, fingers dancing over his bicep, “And the Saxon king? Your brother tells me he seeks peace.” Ivar scoffs.

“And he shall get it...for now.” He concludes with an angry twitch of his brow.

“What do you intend to do?” She laid her cheek over the messy strands of his chestnut brown hair.

“Recover, and take you away from this miserable land I should have never brought you to in the first place.”

“Oh, Ivar,” He felt her plant a kiss upon his hair, “I belong wherever you are.” He grunts, gripping her tightly as if she would slip right through his fingers like sand.

“Marry me.” He mutters into her soft linen dress, suddenly feeling as shy as he did when he was a boy.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.” He said, louder this time, needier, a plea falling from his lips as he tightened his hold on her. He shifts his head to look at her, imagining her with a crown of wildflowers nestled in her soft tresses. Her eyes grew round at his statement, lips parted as if to speak.

“Truly?” She asks, “Or has the fever gone to your head?” Ivar rolled his eyes fondly.

“Why would I bother asking you if I did not mean it, hmm?” His chin lightly grazed her abdomen as he peeked up at her through his lashes. “I will make you a queen, lay the world at your feet if you allow me.”

How many tears could this woman produce? He thought though he was more than satisfied knowing they were tears of joy when she erupted in giggles.

“I accept,” She wiped her eyes before arching down to place a kiss on his lips, “But, under one condition.”

“Oh?” Ivar pulls away from her, brows raised, “Go on, what is it?”

“You must drink the ginseng tea,” She offers, taking the lukewarm tea and offering it to him, “The healers would prescribe it to Oleg whenever he came back wounded from battle. It will revive your strength and clear your body of infection.” Ivar eyes the cup wearily, nose flaring at the abhorrent smell. He didn’t like it.

“It smells horrid.” He complained.

“You fight battles against fearsome enemies, and yet, are too afraid to drink an herbal tonic?” She scoffs. Ivar narrows his eyes, considers her words before muttering under his breath.

“...Very well.” He takes the cup from her, face pinched after taking a sip, “Are you satisfied now? Will you marry me?” She nods fervently, her hands laced together in her joy. A blinding smile settled on her lips like never before.

It finally reached her eyes.

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @leilabeaux​ @shannygoatgruff​ @inforapound​ @walkxthexmoon​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @peachyboneless​ @fuchsiagrasshopper​ @pomegranates-and-blood​

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin💦

a/n: ya’ll forgive me someone requested soobin smut and I could not find the request on my page lolololol so whoever requested this i hope you enjoy!

saint m.list

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖆? 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖆’𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙. (𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜) 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 1893.

he was tall. sorry for stating the obvious but that was the most noticeable thing about him. I mean if you got really close maybe you could see his deep dimples that waded in both of his cheeks when he talked. Or if you were paying close attention to him you’d notice the way his eyes enveloped when he smiled or laughed. but enough of that though, choi soobin was nothing to admire. 

well, at least personality wise. he’d come to school in his snazzy maroon sweater vest and suit jacket and wore his hair in the side part that drove all of the girls crazy. you had to admit, it was reasonably so. he was a good looking guy. so why wouldn’t they? 

if they hadn’t been obsessing over him maybe they’d see him dump their textbooks in the trash when they weren’t looking or him cutting their ponytails or even worse, him lying to the priest about the sluts they were at the confessionals. poor father benjamin. 

luckily though you stayed low on the radar. I mean you weren’t completely invisible but at least your were the person who rather keep your head inside the book of Ecclesiasticus than choi soobin. you were one of the few at least. he even had the boys all over him, wanting to be him, wanting to act like him and dress like him. if this wasn’t a catholic school you’d think they’d rather be his girlfriend, too. but you couldn’t hold your school to a high standard I mean Melissa Mccarthy’s sex tape was floating around the school for months. And she was so called one of the most ‘attractive’ girls in school before she got expelled of course.

but back to choi soobin. he was a shit head. you knew in your heart of hearts he was. this is what mainly infuriated you when sister helena assigned him as your partner for a video watching. yeah a video watching. in which she’d pull out that big fat old tv and put on a black and white movie and expects you to write down the answers based on events that were happening in the film. she always assigned partners though because she thought two brains could capture better details than one. 

anyway he slides in the seat next to yours in the back of the room with a snarky grin on his face. he always had that dumb snarky grin. you pull down your plaid pleated skirt a little more over your knees. sister helena smiles at the both of you while passing out the question sheet and a couple of pencils. Soobin grabs it before you. not that you were racing to get it anyway. You saw him concentrating to write, must’ve been hard for him since he does little to no work. Then you realized he was writing his name and you wondered if how he even made it to senior year. 

it was your turn to write your name on the paper so you did so quickly before the movie started. you weren’t even 10 minutes into the movie before soobin began laughing and goofing off with his friends in the front of him. Sister helena shot you a severe look signaling the fact that she wanted you two to tone it down. but why did she address you and not soobin?

you nudge him on the arm. 

“hey quit it. sister helena is going to give us an F if you keep going”.

“and what does that have to do with me?”. soobin snarls you roll your eyes. 

“it has a lot to do with you because if i get a bad grade over you It’s going to be a serious problem”.

soobin laughs as if to say, ‘yeah right’. it only made you angrier. soobin tilts his head at you. you were kinda cute in a way. he never really looked at you before like he had now. he acted as if he were looking elsewhere and placed his hand on your knee. you flinch.

“soobin?-- what are you doing?”. 

you ask pushing his hand off. he does this sheepish grin that makes him the cutest but you didn’t want to admit it. 

“come on. we’re in the back of the room. don’t you want to have some fun?”.

“we have an assignment to do you idiot”. he places his hand on your knee again, only he raises it a bit more, dragging up your skirt a little. you had to admit, his hands felt nice. 

“you’re so worried about this assignment. trust me. I’ll make sure we have the answers even if we weren’t paying attention”.

your nerves ran endlessly as he dragged his fingers higher, now reaching the top of your thighs. you were grateful that you two were in the back of the room and that the table you two shared was enough to cover his movements. 

“s-s-soobin i don’t think we should”. you stuttered. it was weird how you forgot all the bad things about soobin as soon as he started touching you. He leans in your ear, 

“just relax. I’ll make you feel good i promise. have you ever been touched before?”.

no. and you would probably be the envy of the whole school if everyone knew who was waiting to touch you. 

“no i haven’t”. 

he ghosted his finger tips at the front of your panties, rubbing your slit lazily. you closed your eyes, feeling sorry for father benjamin and your confessions in advance. 

“you’re actually pretty cute”. soobin flirts with his lips still to your ear. you ignored his compliment letting him slip his fingers inside of your panties. he teases your clit with his fingertips before he touches it softly. 

you twitch and tap your foot so you wouldn’t be too suspicious to sister Helena. Not that she was paying you two any mind anyway. you don’t know what the hell gotten into you, but it was too late to stop it now. 

soobin scoots his seat closer to you and uses his other hand to grip his pencil in. He wanted to make he looked like he was doing as much work as possible. He pulled your panties back a bit more, using his finger to gently rub your clit in small circles. you shuddered. this was your first time experiencing something as mind blowing as this. 

with your priest of a father and religious mother you never had time to...explore. you finally saw what you were missing in life. soobin pauses his actions to spread your legs a little wider before he kept rubbing you. With each rub he’d do it more forcefully than the last. you bite your lips trying to detain any noises. it was hard though. 

“you’re so cute. you like getting your virgin pussy touched don’t you?”. soobin speaks in your ear with a low tone. he fastens the pace of his fingers feeling your puffy clit slick up in excitement. surges of electricity sprints through you. you pull your skirt over his hand. 

he casually pretends he’s watching tv and you’re suffering. If you don’t whimper, or wail, or anything you felt like you were going to explode in the next two seconds. He rubs you faster and you could feel your hips grinding against his fingers desparately. 

“don’t do that. fuck--you’re going to make me hard”. he warns in a casual whisper. you ignore him of course and clutch the table. you close your eyes and let his fingers slide through your pussy as you grinded. you opened your mouth hoping nothing came out. but you were in for a surprise when you created a small squeal by accident.

luckily though, no one but sister helena looked at you. With her pointer she pointed to the tv, meaning ‘pay attention or you will have detention’ . you’d sure liked to see her contain herself if she ever got fingered in the back of a classroom by a cute boy. but then again you wouldn’t like to see that, because  for a 50 year old woman that’d be fucking gross. 

soobin is chuckling lowly in your ear like the menace he was. “your pussy is so fucking wet holy shit”. 

you continue to bite your lips while he swiped your clit from side to side aggressively with three fingers. your heart pounded in your chest. you wanted to shriek, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t and it was killing you. 

you decided it was best that you left your small cries in the lowest volume as possible, only audible enough for soobin to hear. you were sopping through his fingers though. you panicked when you felt yourself pulse intensely. soobin grinned. he knew your were close. 

“that’s it, cum for me you little fucking saint”. he groaned in your ear. with your stuttering hips a wave of pressure came over you and you felt something leaking out of you. with your heavy breathing you had to come to terms with the fact that that was your first orgasm. 

holy shit.

the bell rung and classes ended and somehow someway you and soobin’s paper was full of answer by the time he turned it in. “Hey, you. come here I need to have a word with you”. sister helena grumbled looking directly at you. your heart raced. soobin gave you a small smirk before walking out the classroom. as almost if he was wishing you good luck. 

“yes?”. 

“I want to say that choi soobin is very misbehaved. But i am so glad I paired him with you. I’ve never saw him complete a whole paper his whole time here and this is his senior year here. hey, if you don’t mind i think i’d like to pair you two more often. Is that alright with you?”. she smiles. 

you blink. not believing what the hell you were hearing. 

“yes why not?”. you blurt out laughing playfully for good measure. 

“good good! I know what to do now. Have a nice day!”. you bow to her hoping she does as well. you walk out the classroom to see soobin standing on the wall next to the door smiling down at you like an idiot.

“what?”. you scoff. 

“have you ever had sex before?”. he asks casually as if he were asking you what your favorite cereal was. you shake your head no. 

“no. why?”. 

“do you want to?”. 

“what makes you think i’d want to do it with you? you’ve probably had sex with the whole school by now”. 

you scoff again walking away. he chases after you. 

“if that’s what you think then boy you’d be surprised by the truth”. 

“why are you even bothering? I’m a virgin it’s not like i’m some slut who can pleasure you and actually know what I’m doing”. 

“I can teach you”. he says confidently. 

“what?”. 

“It’s your senior year. I’m sure you don’t want to be a virgin for long. I mean, you can agree to let me teach you or i’d just might have to tell poor father benjam--”.

“alright! soobin. no need to go that far”. you adjust your backpack strap. 

“I’ll let you teach me. but where?”.

“my parents are having a church meeting tomorrow night. Meet me at my house around 7″.

[mudhornchronicles]

dreamboat | greaser!frankie morales | part one

pairing: francisco “catfish” morales x reader; greaser!frankie x reader

warnings: smoking, drinking, swearing, lewd comments, mentions of racism.

a/n: We got ourselves a series, ya’ll. I cannot wait until chapter 2. I present to you – Greaser!Frankie Morales

masterlist

You gently close the door as your mother leans over to wind down the passenger side window. “You will be fine, sweetheart. It is absolutely normal to feel nervous! It is your first day after all.”

You nod and feel your tied hair bound up and down. The white ribbon falls on your cheek and you push it back. “I understand, mother. It’s just different than my previous school, that’s all.”

“And they taught you how to be a lady, did they not? You are properly educated, unlike these individuals. Now smooth your skirt down before it wrinkles. First impression matter, correct? I will see you after school. I love you!”

You tell your mother you love her too as you smooth down your white full-circle skirt and adjust your two notebooks on your arm. You wave a goodbye to your mother and watch as she drives her 1953 pastel yellow Pontiac your father had gifted her for her birthday.

You turn and take a good look at your new school and you immediately feel out of place. The cream-colored cement building looks old, but the lawn looks taken care of. The sounds of revving engines and the smell of cigarette smoke abuse your ears and nose. You are most definitely not used to those aspects of the place. Your old school was strict about noises and smells. The only smell they wanted lingering the air was that of perfume and the sound of the girls talking about the school curriculum.

What you see here would give the mistresses a stroke. You see couples shoving their tongues down each other’s throats, students smoking on campus, hot rods racing up and down the streets, and the boys throwing such obscene comments. As you walk up the path towards the building’s entrance, your eyes fall upon a group of five boys whose comments make a chill run up your spine.

“Hey paper shakers,” one calls out. “Why don’t cha shake those pom poms over in this direction? I’ll give ya somethin’ good to cheer about!” The guys snicker to each-other as Benny jokingly thrusts at the cheerleaders. The group hollers at the cheerleaders as they shout insults at the boys and run into the school’s building. You notice that four of them continue to laugh and yell other comments at the athletes, but the fifth just looks around and appears to shy away from joining his friends.

Dressed in black jeans, a white tee, and a worn black leather jacket, Frankie tries to hide away from his brothers’ banter. He never understood why they talk to betties the way they do and then complain that they don’t have a doll around their arm. Pope seems to be the one who is a bit like him, but that’s only because he’s felt the uncomfortableness on the receiving of impudent comments. Being Latino in this town wasn’t the most welcoming while growing up. His family was always met with derogatory comments just because of their appearance. He never understood why people thought it was okay to jump his father every other night on his way back home from work. He never understood why his mother was always denied jobs because she had an accent. He never understood why he rarely had friendships that lasted because their parents said that they couldn’t hang out with the “brown boy.”

Once he grew up, he understood what the concept of racism was. When he met Santiago, or Pope as Frankie called him, he learned that Santiago’s family left his town because they were threatened and when they wouldn’t leave, their house was broken into. The pair soon became best friends and were able to fight off their bullies with each other’s help.

Frankie had never been one to initiate a fight, but he would be the one to end it. Benny was always the fighter. Whether it was his battle or not, he would always be up to throw the first punch. When they made it to freshman year, the boys decided it would be best to create a group of friends that they could lean on when times got tough and to their luck, they met the Miller brothers, Will and Benny, and Tom, also known as Redfly.

You took a deep breath and clutched your books to your chest. You slowly walked up the stairs and as you revert your eyes down to the floor as you tried not to bump into someone and walked past the group – that was until you heard “hey there doll face, where’d you come from?”

You look up to see a tall blonde, younger than the other blonde, snicker at himself and wink at you. You look around to make sure the comment was directed at you and the group laughs. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to ya sweetheart. I’m guessin’ yousa newbie?” You widen your eyes and steadily nod.

One of the brunettes steps up to you, takes his toothpick out his mouth and replaces it with a cigarette. He takes a deep inhale and blows the smoke in your face. You wave you hand in front of your face and cough as he lets out a laugh. “You that chick that escaped Saint Catherine’s?”

You shrug and nod once more, but with a grimace etched on your face. He raises his cigarette back into his mouth and puts his hand out to you for a handshake – you reciprocate the handshake.

“The name’s Tom, but you, pretty lady, can call me Redfly. Those two over there is Benny and his brother Will. This one behind me,” he points towards one of the two other brunettes, “this one’s Santiago, but call him Pope. You’re familiar with those religious names, right?” This comment earns him an eye roll from you, but it also earns him a scoff from the final member of his little clique.

Tom turns around and looks at his friend. “You trynna say somethin’, ‘Fish?” The brunette smirks and shakes his head. Tom lets out a “hmph” and nods. “This one’s Frankie. We call him Catfish because he may seem like a kicked puppy dog, but the guy can fuck someone up if he really gotta.” You nod and look over to Frankie and find that he’s already looking at you.

You notice just how right Tom was when he described Frankie as a puppy dog. Frankie’s eyes are brown deep-set eyes are captivating. His lips are pink and plush – making you want to give him a big ol’ kiss. His rugged hair calls out to your hands to run your fingers through it. You suddenly lost the ability to speak, so you resulted in clumsily wave a hello, but resulting in your books falling to the ground.

You began to kneel over to pick them up, but a hand stopped you from doing so. Frankie bent over to pick up your things, dusted them off, and handed them to you. What you didn’t see was the boys smiling at seeing their brother be dumbstruck over a girl.

You took your books back with a shy thank you to Frankie and him saying “no problem.” He caught sight of your schedule you received in the mail the day prior and smiles to himself.

“I see you have World History first. Is it with Robinson? May I?” He puts his hand out for your schedule that is taped on the front of your notebook. You pass him your blue notebook and he starts to analyze your schedule. Once he’s satisfied, he gives you back your notebook. “I have classes near yours. I can walk you if you’d like?” Before you’re given the opportunity to answer, Frankie’s friends burst out into laughing fit so loud, the students passing by look over to see the cause of the sound – looking right back to where they were when they see who it was.

“Whatcha gonna do, ‘Fish?” Will teases, “gonna take the new girl on a grand tour of the school? She don’t look the type to give it up behind the bleachers, pal.” Frankie turns red and stutters his denial of the accusation. The boys laugh at him as he nervously tugs on his leather jacket.

“I’d love if you would, Frankie. I haven’t a clue where I’m going, and I really don’t want to get lost on my first day.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s cool.” Frankie nods and stuffs his hands in his pocket.

“Ya might wanna go now, ‘Fish. Princess here ain’t gonna wanna be late,” Tom teases. Tom nudges his head towards the other side of the building. “Let’s go Bandits. Teach’ aint gon’ misses us too much. We’ll see ya in a bit, Frankie.” The boys walk away with Pope and Will giving Frankie a pack on the back with a chuckle – leaving you and Frankie alone on the steps.

“Are they not going to class? It’s the first day and they’ll make a bad impression on their first period instructor.” You ask. You wonder why the boys wouldn’t go to their homeroom, especially being the first day of class.

“They’ll get there… eventually. We can go though. I don’t wanna make ya late or anythin’.” He gestures for you to start walking in front of him, but you won’t walk until knowing something first.

“Frankie, will you be going to homeroom? They said they would see you in bit. Are you just taking me to my classroom and skipping your first period?”

Frankie gets red and shakes his head furiously. “Nah, I ain’t those idiots. My parents would flip their shit if I had to retake a year.” You smile up at him and nod. You reach out to take his arm, as your old school taught you a gentleman should, and were shocked when Frankie pulled away as you touched his arm.

“Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“I was just taking your arm, is all.” You cocked your head to the side. Every man you’d been escorted by has always given you their arm.

It was his turn to act confused. He knew exactly what you were doing and why, but he had a reputation to uphold and it wasn’t him being a gentleman. “What does that mean? Whatcha takin’ my arm for, doll?”

“Nevermind. Shall we?”

Frankie leads you into the crowded building. Students were running everywhere, and voices drowned the pair of you. He takes you to the second level of the building and leads you down the hall and taking a sharp left. You’re a bit lower than he is, but with each step, you start to really get a good luck at the back design on his jacket.

“What does Bandits mean?” Frankie turns around and by instinct, looks at the back of his jacket.

“It’s our group. Call ourselves The Bandits,” he says with “The Bandits” in air quotations.

You stifle a giggle, and he smiles showing of his dimple on his right cheek.

“Yeah, Pope came up with it. I just ran with it.”

“Do you steal?”

“Nah. Pope just thought it sounded cool. Redfly wanted the name “The Unarrestables,” but got arrested two weeks later for mailboxing 7 blocks.” You let out a loud laugh, covering your face with your notebooks, and Frankie looks over at you and smiles. He hasn’t been able to laugh the way he just did in a long time. As you share a funny story about your former mistress skirt being caught in a window, the two of share more laughs as you ultimately arrive at your homeroom’s door.

“Here we are. Room 249… World History with Lloyd Robinson. I’ll come back for you after class to take you to second period. That cool with ya?” You smile and nod. You’re a bit sad that you made it so soon, but quickly disappears when he mentions coming back for you.

“That sounds great, Catfish. Thank you very much.” He lets out a chuckle and nods at you.

“You can call me Frankie. I like the way you say it, doll.” Just as he starts to walk away, a voice makes him freeze in place and slowly turn back around.

“Mister Morales, will you not be joining us today or is your cigarette of much more importance?”

“Mister Robinson. How’s the new kid?” Frankie nervously scratches the back of his head.

“Frankie, get in this classroom or you’ll receive a failing grade starting now.” Mister Robinson gives you a warm smile in comparison to his frown towards Frankie and goes back into the classroom.

“Wait a minute. You have the same homeroom as I do? You said yours was near!”

He sighs and holds his hands up in surrender. “I guess I’ve been caught. We have the same classes, lucky you.”

“But this is AP World History.”

“Just because the guys I run with don’t give a shit, don’t mean I don’t either.”

You stand in front of him and cross your arms underneath your breasts – eyes narrowed and staring into his. “You are just full of surprises aren’t you, Frankie Morales.”

He looks deep into your eyes and smirks. He adjusts his jacket and runs a hand in his hair. He reaches for the handle and opens the door open for you. 

“Ladies first, doll.”

[indigoelfinspirit]

10 and 26 for story of your choice?

I am going to be a chaos child and answer these for multiple stories because my brain went spinning off on tangents when I saw them. 10 is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? is there a definitive end? Starfall: the major plot points are planned out through Gen 7, but most of the details are not. Despite creating so many CAS babies I do like letting the game generate kids so it's a toss up if the CAS kids will be the actual kids in the story or whether I just let the fates decide. Rainbow Connections: I have like a dozen pages of script and some plot lines for Gen 1, but nothing definite for the future generations. Kinda waiting for the kiddos to be born, but I also got sidetracked by Gemini and Starfall Gen 2 before I actually shot the scenes so 😅. Gemini: this is my chaos save. Anything goes. I knew who the couples were and I have one secret plot point for midway through Gen 1 but I am going to write the story around the gameplay like I was during the early part of Starfall Gen 1 because I need a loose script gameplay in my life. 26 have other sim stories inspired you? So very much. Reading BPRs is a hobby of mine and Kit's was my first. I ran across a wcif of hers where she had listed all her favorite berry sims stories and I basically read my way through almost that entire list. I tried to start a half dozen bprs, but the saves glitched and I never got attached to any of them because apparently following rules and berry troupes aren't totally my style. I just can't with proper berry names. The big influences for Starfall are Kit ( @simmancy) and Jex ( @simblrinterests) because they created these really awesome worlds with mature storyline and weave real life situations into their magical worlds so seamlessly. Jex especially for the naming and some of my more chaotic rule breaking. For Rainbow Connections it's @budgie2budgie's rotation play - a couple of my friends reblogged some of their posts and I was hooked. Then I happened to have all these vanilla Rainer-Blanc from kids from a happy ORusty save and this sort of slice of life hoping from one character to the next concept appealed to me. If there are rules for rotation plays I don't want to know. But definitely recommend you check Budgie's out because it is impeccable. Okay so Gemini is sort of morphing into its own thing that does not necessarily resemble anything I had planned for it. However there had been this idea I had for an unusual character dynamic had been floating around the back of my mind that @simsstuph's bpr reminded my of, so she is directly responsible for starting this chaos. There are a couple other inspos, but they wouldn't make sense without spoilers. Not sure if Gemini is actually going in that direction still, but someday I will tell a BPR story that actually goes as planned 😂. Oh, and Chrissy (@queenofvraquin) is the patron saint of lost sci fi stories. Every time she posts something I get my pre-simblr sci fi writing itch back and create a new world and new characters only to realize I can't pull it off in game or get super insecure about my species creation and dystopian tendencies and decide I am not quite ready to let ya'll into that corner of my brain yet.

If you need the prompts list it can be found here

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

Hot Take: The Last Of Us 2 never villainized Joel, most of the time Joel is seen as a terrible person by The Fireflies, WLF, and those he literally took from. Whenever I see posts talking about Joel and how he was “villainized” they always bring up how bad the Fireflies are like we didn’t know this, most people myself included are focused on the fact that he didn’t think to tell her or consider her thoughts on it. If he had no regrets about it then why didn’t he tell Ellie about it? He’s being held accountable for the choices he chose to make, the game wants you to express your own thoughts on whether Joel is a villain or antagonist but even then you can’t deny that him saving Ellie was a choice that lead to his death. The fireflies are terrible and the way they handled the situation was very bad, hell I believe that their choices led to him ultimately murdering them. I wish both people would hold both Joel and The Fireflies accountable for the way they handled things, Joel literally lied to Ellie and probably gaslighted her in a way about how things weren’t adding up. He literally kept lying to her about it and made her think that she was just going crazy, if he didn’t lie to her about it then he ignored it and let these questions form in her head that he had answers to. Also, you guys claim that the game villainized Joel but you guys villainize Abby and anyone who isn’t from Jackson. Abby was demonized, villainized by the fandom and made out to be evil, people literally are out here calling her a man, saying she’s ugly as hell, and you guys demonize her for murdering Joel so brutally when he murdered her dad. It’s not even about who is in the right or who is in the wrong, hell you guys just tried to fucking make the game black and white when one of the game’s core themes is how everything isn’t so black and white. That those people you kill have people who care about them, they have lives outside of just being an obstacle in your way and no one is innocent in The Last Of Us 2. No one is a hero, hell I understand where Joel is coming from but the fact that he lied to Ellie for so long, pretended like he didn’t know what happened to the fireflies and ultimately broke their relationship apart and their trust because he couldn’t tell her the truth. That’s his problem was that ultimately that he lied to Ellie and ultimately damaged the trust that was damaged the moment he lied to her about the truth of Saint Mary’s Hospital. The game held Joel accountable for his actions, one of the game’s main mechanic’s is all about cost and price, he saved Ellie but ultimately it cost him his life down the line. That moment in the kitchen Ellie shared with Dina cost her, her need to pursue Abby cost them their relationship and ultimately probably damaged something in their relationship. Tommy shot Manny through his left eye and he lost his vision in his right shortly afterwards, it’s all about price and cost and to say that the game made Joel out to be the villain when most of you guys can’t handle that it’s just the consequences of his actions. That he chose to save her and lie to her and it cost the trust she once had for him and it cost him his life saving Ellie. Not to mention you guys severely underestimate what Abby went through with the Rattlers, Abby could’ve been tortured, raped, beaten, humiliated and so much more. You guys demonize and villainize Abby without question for not being like Ellie, for not have the privilege of being traditionally pretty, for having no regrets about the things in her life, for murdering a man who murdered her father. Right and wrong sometimes doesn’t matter, both women had father’s who did bad things for the greater good and to demonize Abby for getting revenge just shows so much about half the fans. I bet you if she wasn’t so muscular or was even considered sexy (not say she isn’t) but people joke about her being a man, demonize her for all her choices and never keep that energy for Joel or Ellie. You guys are all for women getting revenge until it’s a woman with muscles, with no regrets, a woman who without question is complex and a woman who is unapologetically herself. I notice you guys will praise white women especially ones who can be fetishized and sexualized, you do it to Jennifer Check, Mileena, and so many other vengeful women who no doubt deal with being traditionally pretty. Not to mention, how you guys will fight for white men is so sad, you guys will go hard for Joel and will defend them to the end but with poc it’s silent. Marlene’s death is justified plenty by the fans when it’s exactly what it is, a white man killing an already injured black woman who has no back-up and likely would’ve died but he chose to waste a bullet on her and had the nerve to say she’d come after her. Yeah, right. All I am saying is keep the same energy of the game villainizing Joel for Abby, she was so wrongly demonized and villainized by ya’ll for so many reasons, for not being traditionally pretty, for not being apologetic, for being vengeful, you hate on her for having traits that are in men and mostly in Joel. I want you guys to keep that same energy for women such as Lady Dimitrescu, Jennifer Check, Mileena, and so many more vicious women who do the same if not worse than Abby. 

[hopeless-weakness]

2022 Books I’ve Read

16/150

Ruthless Saint by S. Massery

(DeSantis Mafia book 1)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Trigger Warnings include:

sexual assault

If the blurb didn’t sell me, the prologue sure would have! When Amelie’s betrothed can no longer marry her, Luca swoops in and does what he needs to for his family. Amelie’s very first instinct is to push Luca away, not matter why he’s close. Both figuratively and literally. Amelie isn’t part of the life Luca lives, so he’s extremely sympathetic and possessive of her. To keep her safe, Luca takes Amelie to a small town in Italy. Except she’s not safe there either. But that close proximity causes the tension between them to snap. There’s a kindness to Luca I wasn’t expecting. And it’s obvious Amelie wasn’t either. Even though they were forced into the situation, they really do want to try to make it work. Until the truth comes out, and Luca snaps. But Luca will stop at nothing to not just win her back, but find a place in her heart. Luca wants Amelie to feel safe and free, even if it means he’ll lose her forever. They take the time to properly show each other what they mean to each other. To share the love between them. And ya’ll a love letter?! I definitely wasn’t expecting that!

My Favorite Quotes:

• ‘I see through that mask-and I’m going to rip it off.’

• “I see you, Amelie. All of you.”

• “Dirty little wife.”

• “I need you to erase that. So I remember you.”

• “When I get home tonight, my c!m better still be on your skin. Between your thighs. I own you, Amelie.”

• ‘You changed me, and I’m so thankful for that. Even if it was painful.’

• “I won’t refuse you. Ever.”

• “You’re my person.”

• “You are the women I will cherish for the rest of my life, because I am in love with you.”

• “I quite liked calling you wife. Fiancée is nice, though. Betrothed. Beloved.”

7/10 Arranged Marriage

7/10 Dirty Birdy

6/10 Forced Proximity

8/10 Mafia Romance

6/10 Second Chance

goodreads account

click here for my reading playlist! 🎧📖

click here for my reading playlist on spotify! 🎧📖

[snarkwrites]

-- about my writing --

I’m currently taking requests / asks for headcanons [ can be either NSFW or just in general or a specific idea ] or fluff/filth Alphabet letters. These are the only requests I plan on taking. If you send me prompts / one shot ideas.. I won’t do them, sorry.

To see what the questions are for the fluff / filth alphabet, see [this post]

[ To my thots anon whomst I love with every cell in my body... Your thots are all going to fall under NSFW headcanons so please.. By all means.. Feel free to send me all the thots you want because I really really really really really enjoy writing them!!! Also, you can find the thots you’ve sent me on my nsfw masterlist, they’re not going anywhere. They were so good I had to add them to a masterlist somehow, I couldn’t resist. At everyone else out there, the same applies to you guys.]

So.. Here’s the thing.. I’ve decided that I’m going to be taking 3 kinds of requests. Those are as follows: Headcanons { filthy, fluffy or themed specifically at your choosing }, fluffy alphabet and filthy alphabet letters. These are the only kinds of request I answer so don’t send me prompts / one shot requests or ideas unless I specifically say otherwise.

Bearing the above in mind, I have some guidelines.

I’m only accepting headcanons (nsfw / fluff / specific theme &/or reader), fluffy or filthy alphabet letters. If you send me one shot ideas or prompts, I’m going to delete them because I don’t do one-shots.

One character per ask. I don’t care how many asks you send. But I ask that you only send one character per ask because that makes things a lot more simple for me.

You can send up to 4 letters in each ask if you’re asking for either version of the alphabet. Be sure to let me know whether you want filth or fluff or a mix of both. IE, you could send me something like this; character name - a, b {filth} & j v {fluff}. I’m not saying your ask has to look exactly like this but it does need to clearly state which version you’re asking for. The format I just did above was just the easiest way that came to mind for me.

The more precise you are with the headcanon requests you send, the better I can tailor them to you. If you just want an overall NSFW headcanon or overall fluff, that’s totally fine. But if you want a specific scenario ( friends to lovers, date night, weddings, the sky is the limit here) you need to tell me that. The same goes for if you want a specific reader (POC, plus size, sick, shy, virgin, imprint, etc) then I need to know that. It’s like I said.. The more specifics you give me, that’s more I have to work from.

As far as headcanons go, the things I won’t write are rape, incest / huge age gaps between reader / character. I’ll only write abuse if someone is getting their just desserts at the hands of character on readers behalf. Any asks containing rape / incest / huge age gaps are going to be deleted.

All asks must come to my inbox. I don’t take requests through DM or in comments on a post. If it helps, my anon is on, so you can request to your hearts content.

If the ask box is closed, this means I’m currently not taking headcanon or fluff/filth alphabet requests. This will also be noted on my blog bio and possibly a post stating why/for how long. Anything sent in after the ask box is closed will either be gotten to the next go around or it’ll be deleted, depending on the situation.

First of all... My content is meant strictly for adults. I do write some things that people underage can safely  read, but that is not always the case. I realize that I can’t stop minors from reading my work, but I can tell you outright that I’d rather you skip over it if you’re underage and it clearly states that it’s not written for anyone underage. Again.. I can’t do anything to stop minors from reading my NSFW content beyond just choosing never to post writing on the internet. And I don’t plan on stopping, so.. yeah.

I put warnings on everything. Reading those will definitely save you time and upset. If you keep reading something I’ve written and it upsets you in any way, I’m sorry but I can’t help. I warned you. You chose to take the risk -and most likely, you chose to skip the warning I gave before the post even started... It’s strictly on you now. It’s out of my hands. Any complaints or things of that nature are gonna be laughed at and deleted out of my inbox because I’m not here to argue or censor myself. I’m not your parents, just a peer. If you as a minor choose to look at me, an adult adjacent person, as an authority figure of any sort... First of all, why? Ya’ll.. no.. please don’t. I’m a hot mess, okay? To look at me like any trust worthy authority figure is... A huge error on your own part. Secondly, please don’t. I’m here to enjoy my favorite fandoms / post content for them. I’m not here to please people / censor myself and my content to make everyone else happy... Let me repeat. I put warnings on everything I post. If you keep reading and you read something you’re not supposed to this is now solely your own problem. Sorry, I guess?

I’ve seen other adults saying that they block minors on here. While I’m not gonna do that.. I will not tag minors in my NSFW content knowingly. If I find out you’re a minor and I’m posting something NSFW for a fandom you’ve asked to be tagged in, I will not be tagging you. Sorry. As much as I say I’m not here to parent you and I’m just your peer and you need to think of me like that instead, I’m also not willing to risk anything, either. I’m truly sorry in advance.

While I’m talking about tagging people / my taglist...If you want me to tag you in my writing, you need to be on my taglist. The taglist can be found [ here ] or you can dm / send an ask telling me you want to be added and I will be more than happy to do so. Don’t be afraid to ask me. I don’t mind at all! 

Every now and then, I’ll tag my friends in things I write. If I tag you in something and you don’t want me to, let me know. I won’t do it anymore. I’m not here to overwhelm or annoy anyone and I don’t want to come off as pushy, either. SO.. if you’re getting tagged or whatever and you want me to stop tagging you, all you have to do is let me know.

If you’re not on my tag list (or I don’t know you well enough to know whether you’d potentially want to read something) I will not be tagging you. If you’re a minor and I know for sure/think  you are and it’s smut, I will definitely not be tagging you.

Content I’m not willing to write or  you probably won’t find here: Incest and Rape. Those are my hard no’s. Just the thought of writing something like that makes me feel gross. I’m also not going to be writing huge age gaps in romantic stories either. (the closest I’ll come is like.. 18/19 and up to 24...) I mean absolutely no offense against people who can and do write things like this, I just can’t? 

American Horror Story; tate langdon, ben harmon, kit walker, kyle, dandy mott, jimmy darling, james patrick march, michael langdon, xavier plympton and night stalker.

Arrowverse; oliver queen, john diggle, slade wilson/deathstsroke, barry allen, cisco ramon, ray palmer, mick rory.

Bands / Celebrities; ask before sending because I haven’t done many of these and I’m still adjusting… Off the top of my head I’ve written for / feel comfortable with Nick Groff (ghost adventures), Jon Bernthal.. There are lots of others but alas, I’d stretch this out so badly if I added too many more names.

Boondock Saints movie; Connor Macmanus Murphy Macmanus & Rocco.

Breakfast Club movie; John Bender.

Castle Rock tv series; Dennis Zalewski, The Kid.

Criminal Minds; Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Hotch, Tobias Hankel & Adam/Amanda.

Crybaby Movie; wade walker.

CSI tv series; Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Gil Grissom, Tim Speedle, Ryan Wolfe, Eric Delko, Danny Messer, Don Flack, Mack Taylor.

Dazed & Confused movie; Randal Pink Floyd, Mike Newhouse, Ron Slater, Fred O’Bannion and Kevin Pickford.

DC Cinematic; Digger Harkness.

Detroit Rock City movie; Tripp, Lex, Hawk and Jam.

Fast & The Furious series; Dom Toretto, Han.

Four Brothers movie; Angel, Jack or Bobby Mercer

Friday Night Lights tv series; Tim Riggins, ,Matt Saracen, Landry Clarke, Bobby Riggins, Vince.

General Hospital tv series; Sonny Corinthos, Jason Morgan, Johnny Zacarra, Dante Falconeri, several other of the guys on here…

Ghostbusters 80′s version movie; Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler , Peter Venkman, Winston Zeddemore.

Gotham tv series; Jerome Valeska, Jim Gordon, Joker, Riddler.

Harry Potter movies; Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom.

Horror movies various; Billy Loomis/Scream, Charlie Walker/Scre4m, Wade/ House of Wax, Tom Hanninger/My Bloody Valentine + others. Trust me, there are... So many others. I just didn’t have the brain power to think of them all at the moment.

Law & Order tv series; Barba, Carisi, Stabler.

Lucifer tv series; Lucifer Morningstar.

Luke Cage; Luke Cage, Shades Alvarez.

Marvel Cinematic; Bruce Banner/hulk, Captain america/steve rogers, bucky barnes/winter soldier, eric killmonger, hawkeye/clintbarton, thor, loki, pietro maximoff, venom/eddie brock, starlord/peter quill, ironman/tony stark, wolverine.. I’m a marvel ho.

Mayans MC tv series; Angel Reyes and Ez Reyes.

NCIS tv series; Anthony Dinozzo, Timothy McGee, Marty Deeks, Greg Callen.

On My Block tv series; Spooky Diaz.

Punisher tv series; Billy Russo, Frank Castle.

Riverdale tv series; Jughead Jones, FP Jones, Reggie Mantle, Sweetpea, Archie Andrews.

Shameless tv series; Lip Gallagher.

Sons of Anarchy tv series; Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Clay Morrow, Juice Ortiz, Opie Winston.

Stranger Things tv series; Jonathan Byers, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Jim Hopper.

Star Wars movie series; Han Solo, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Poe Dameron, Finn.

Supernatural tv series; Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Crowley, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran.

Teen Wolf tv series; Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Derek Hale.

The Crow movie series; Eric Draven and Jimmy Quervo/Wicked Prayer.

The Lost Boys movie series; Edgar Frog, Allen Frog, David, Michael Emmerson, Sam Emmerson.

The Outsiders book/movie; Two Bit Matthews, Dally Winston, Darry Curtis, Soda Pop Curtis, Johnny Cade, Steve Randle.

The Walking Dead tv series; Daryl Dixon, Shane walsh, Rick Grimes, Negan, Glenn Rhee.

The Vampire Diaries tv series; Klaus Mikaelson, Kai Parker, Kol Mikaelson, Jeremy Gilbert, Damon Salvatore.

Twelve Rounds 3 movie; Detective John Shaw.

Twilight movies/books; Jasper Hale, Emmett Cullen, Jacob Black, Paul Lahote, Embry Call.

I’m gonna be honest here. I post on my own time, at my own pace. Some days I post constantly, sometimes it’s days or even weeks, and occasionally, a month before I post anything. So.. Now ya know.

If I’m not on and posting, odds are I’m busy, taking a break or whatever. But I’ll come back! I always do. 

Basically, what I’m saying here is I have no set posting schedule. At all. I post what I want when I’m in the mood to do so. Just something to keep in mind when you’re asking for headcanons / nsfw alphabet letters with characters.

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

Cowboy Couture

Yeehawgust Day 11 Words: 1,585 Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Albert Mason Pairings: Implied Charthur Warnings: Fluff

This was part of an collab piece with @peacesentinel​ that we both kind of forgot about, but at least now it’s getting some light. You can find more of his work on his twitter

Arthur dropped the buck heavily next to Pearson’s wagon. He stared at it as he cleaned half dried blood off his hands, discarding the small rag before cracking his neck. 

“Good thing you dropped this off! I don’t think I could have, in good conscience, used the supplies we had left. Thank you, Arthur.” Pearson clapped him on the back before he dragged the carcass to the back of the wagon for dressing. 

Arthur sighed and returned to untack Ulysses, the sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon. He eyed the stew pot lazily simmering over the fire as he passed and decided to opt out, considering that the deer wouldn’t be properly butchered until morning. 

“Letter came for you.” Tilly caught him by the elbow as he passed.

“For me?” Arthur stopped, confused.

“From Saint Denis. Real fancy.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You got someone special out there we don’t know about?” 

“This old fool? Nah.” Arthur dismissed, but Tilly’s coy expression remained.

“It don’t look like that Mary girl’s handwriting, so who is it?” Arthur shot her a glare and she sighed, exasperated.  

“Fine," she pouted, "I left it on your table. It’s just so boring around here, Arthur. This looked exciting!” 

Arthur shook his head, “If it’s some secret admirer, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Tilly scoffed and waved him off dismissively before wandering over to the music that had started near the fire.

He quickly finished untacking Ulysses and headed to his tent, curiosity piqued despite himself. He picked up the letter, the handwriting unfamiliar, flipping it over in his hands a few times before gently sliding his knife along the fold to open it.

Mr. Morgan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have gotten myself into a bind and I didn’t know who else I could turn to. I am in need of two able bodies for a project. I’m in St. Denis, ask for me around the Bastille. 

I hope to see you soon!

A. Mason 

“Ah, shit.” Arthur sat down on his cot. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

What's Albert gotten himself into now? He promised to stay away from wildlife the last time they'd parted. He laid down on the cot, what's he gotten into that he’d send me a letter? Kneading his knuckle into his eye until he saw stars, he sighed. Saint Denis is the place to find out. Angling his hat over his face, he decided, the city's only about half a day’s ride. I'll swing by tomorrow with someone, just to check it out.  

                                                           ---⤱---

Arthur blinked the sleep from his eyes, the dull pinks of the rising sun blearily shining through the canvas ceiling. He stretched and stepped out of his tent, crossing over to the fire. Hosea adjusted the percolator near the flames before turning to face Arthur.

“Morning, Arthur.” 

He offered a little wave in response, grabbing an apple from the wagon and kneeling near the fire. 

“Coffee will be ready in a bit,” Hosea took a seat at the table, picking up the paper and thumbing through it. 

“I gotta check on a lead in Saint Denis later. You hear anything else that may be worth investigatin’?” He took a bite from the apple and Hosea lowered the paper.

“Saint Denis? What’d you find out that way?”

“Ain’t quite sure, but I was gonna bring Charles along.” He poured them both a cup of coffee.

“Bring me along where?” Charles rounded the wagon to join them, a can of peaches in his hand.

“T’check on a lead in Saint Denis.” Arthur tossed the apple core into the fire and stood up, taking a sip from his coffee. “Was just going to look for ya. Ride with me?”

“Don’t draw too much attention.” Hosea shook out the paper, returning to his reading as Charles nodded, already heading to the hitched horses. 

They rode south for a while, briefly stopping to water the horses at a small farm outside of Rhodes. Arthur pulled the letter out of his satchel, re-reading it. 

“So what is this lead?” Charles asked, his eyes flicking down to the letter in Arthur’s hands.

“Checkin’ up on a friend. Got this letter in the mail. Sounds like he may be in a bit of a situation and needs some help.” He held the letter up in a hand. 

“Old gang member?” Charles pressed, suddenly cautious.

“Nah, just a stranger I helped out a few times. A photographer. Wanted to take pictures of all of the untamed wilds of America, before civilization destroyed it. If I hadn’t come along, nature would have surely destroyed him first.” He shook his head, exhaling a laugh.

“You think he might be in trouble? Why?” 

“I ain’t sure, but he asked for help and it ain’t that far, so I thought I’d investigate.” He shrugged. 

“Why’d you need me?” Annoyance peppered Charles’ voice.

“He said he needed two people.” Arthur tucked the letter away, whistling for Ulysses and swinging himself up onto the saddle.

                                                          ---⤱---

They pushed the doors to the Bastille open and were greeted by the bartender and a handful of patrons looking up as they made their way to the bar. 

“What can I get for you fellas?” The bartender leaned against the counter.

“We’re lookin’ for someone.” Arthur said, “Was told to ask around here. He’s a photographer- Albert Mason, you know him?”

“Maybe I seen him around. Ya’ll bounty hunters or something? Can’t imagine that boy in any sort of trouble.”

“Not exactly- he sent a letter for us to ask ‘round here for him.” Arthur pulled said letter out of his satchel and put it down on the bar. The bartender eyed it lazily before turning his attention to another patron.

 “He rents a small apartment above the tailor. That’d be the best place to start. Ya’ll gonna order anything?” Arthur glanced at Charles, who shook his head.

“Nah, thank you kindly.” He dropped a couple coins onto the bar and they headed back out into the street.

                                                          ---⤱---

Albert opened the door, a huge smile making him practically glow as he recognized the familiar face.

“You came! I wasn’t sure the letter would reach you! Come in! Come in!” He waved them both inside. Charles looked at Arthur, who shrugged and followed Albert inside.

“'Course we came, you said you was in a bind. Everything okay?” Albert spun around, his face painted with confusion.

“Of course I’m okay, I’ll explain everything when we get to the studio. But first you both need to change.” 

“Change?” Charles interjected. Albert nodded and rummaged through some things on his desk before producing a couple brown paper packages.

“These might be a bit large.” He handed a package to each of them. Charles held up his hand.

“Change for what?” Charles’ tone was laced with apprehension and Albert furrowed his brow, confused.

“The photoshoot?”

“The what?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, “You said you was in a bind!” 

Albert turned red, realizing only now how his letter came across. He threw his hands up defensively before covering his mouth in embarrassment. 

“Oh! Oh no! I am so sorry. My letter.” He drew his hand across his face. “You...thought I was in danger...”

Arthur nodded, his lips pressed together in frustration.

“No, no, no, no. I got this photography job, on the recommendation of my acquaintance Algernon, to do a photoshoot for a catalogues new clothing line. It’s to be the first use of photographs in the Wheeler Rawson.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his grip on the package tightening, frustrated more-so with himself for reading too much into the letter. Charles shook beside him and Arthur felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, fueling his anger. 

A masked chuckle broke the tension, both men turning toward the sound. Charles broke, letting out a chorus of raucous laughter. Arthur flushed, turning to face Albert; he sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Got anywhere with a bit’a privacy?”

                                                          ---⤱---

The studio was set up when they finished changing, Albert directing them on how and where to stand. The starched clothes dug into them, Lemoyne heat making it nearly unbearable to stand still, bright studio lights only making matters worse. Albert tittered about, posing them.

“Just like that, perfect, don’t mo-” Albert sighed from behind the camera. “Stop messing with your shirt.” Arthur pulled at the stiff collar, unbuttoning the top two before Albert swatted his hands away.

“Ain’t no one really gonna wear this shit.” He grumbled.

“I don’t know, that shirt suits you.” Charles quipped, scratching at his own shirt before tying his hair in a loose ponytail to cool down. Arthur scowled at him

Albert straightened out Arthur’s collar and stepped back surveying the shot. He leaned in and unfastened Charles’s top button and stepped back again. The boys discomfort grew as he continued to stare. He checked the viewfinder on the camera. Sweat trickled down Arthur’s forehead, before he could think he pulled his hat off and wiped the sweat away with his forearm, slicking back his hair with and replacing the hat firmly on his head.

“No, no hat.” Albert exclaimed from behind the camera. Arthur froze. 

“Give it to Charles.” Arthur plopped the hat onto Charles’ head, his hand hovering as he waited for Albert to respond. 

“Perfect.” Albert whispered. Arthur returned to his pose, glancing down to see Charles grin before he heard the soft click of the camera.

[moiralovestowrite]

The Plan Chapter 1

Cayde’s light blue eyes felt like ice. His gaze was thin, trembling, like it could crack at any moment. He had never felt like this before, it was like he was helpless, watching those he loved succumb to a terrible fate. The Drifter had spent a whole month planning this out, The con-man was well known for his ideas, his “adventures”, Would this work? Was this just a stupid idea? Everyone had seen it, the future the Darkness had promised on the Moon. Erebus, Aneira, Drifter, they stood by Cayde’s side as they witnessed visions from the monsters in the shadows.  The Nine knew what was coming, the giant illusions had been dropping hints, little pieces of information to push them in the right direction, or so Erebus thought. That damn Warlock was too trusting for her own good, hell, the woman thought Drifter was a saint. To be fair, she thought Cayde was as well. What if this was all a trick? What if they went through with this, would they play right into the Nine’s large hands? What would happen to the Tower? The Hunters? Was this all a ploy to get them to lower their guard? Accept the Darkness? The Vanguard’s fingers slid to the back of his neck, rubbing the cold metal as he felt his chest rumble with worry. They were on a time limit and no one else seemed to care. The Red War had ended and apparently everything was butterflies and rainbows. Zavala refused to look into the future, claiming that the present was more important. Ikora was too busy with her studies, searching for someone she called an old friend. Someone had to do something. “...Let’s do it.” Cayde-6’s voice was soft, unusually so as the Exo’s blue eyes latched upon Drifter’s form. The Derelict’s captain let out a sharp chuckle, it dug deep into Cayde’s ears, causing the Hunter to almost flinch. “Ya sure? I know you talk a big game but you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Can ya really take this next step?” To outsiders, it may have looked like the older man was mocking the Hunter, pushing his buttons, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. The brunette knew his friend, his morals and loyalty, they all laid within that damn Tower. Andal was all Cayde had back in the day, Could he really leave it all behind? The Exo turned his head, the orange lights within his mouth flickered as he attempted to come up with the right words. Jokes weren’t right here. Neither was sarcasm. Taking in a deep breath, the Hunter spoke. “I’m sure.” Pure honesty was the only way forward. Drifter nodded, taking in Cayde-6’s words and responding with as much honesty as he could. “Yer making the right choice brother.” The Exo snorted, rolling his eyes as he felt the light in his body brighten. He needed to hear that. He couldn’t let Drifter know that though.

It wasn’t long before the girls arrived upon the Derelict. Drifter loved calling them that, Erebus and Aneira were his girls, Cayde’s girls. Family. Aneira and Erebus were always attached at the hip, the two had a connection that was powerful, raw, and loving. It was almost like the Darkness had connected the two. Erebus was returning from a job, her body covered in the snake gear Drifter had made for her ages ago, the grumpy old man claimed it was to keep her identity hidden but Erebus knew the truth. The boss had needed the Warlock to go “borrow” some parts from Lord Shaxx’s latest shipment of guns. The two would dismantle the Crucible weapons, using the parts to make brand new toys for Gambit. Erebus loved tinkering with guns, testing out each creation before she handed it Drifter, proud to give her boss something that worked. The Exo was loyal, clever, Drifter still wasn’t able to admit it right to her face but he loved her more than anything. Ever since the accident on the Moon and Erebus losing her human body, Drifter became even more paranoid, any day could be the last. Erebus was patient however. She had told the man every day that she loved him with all her heart and soul. She knew he loved her just as much, but with the con-man’s past, she understood him struggling to reply. The Warlock could hear his worries. Aneira’s small form was in her usual Hunter gear, somehow she always seemed to make everything look fashionable. Anything on her looked amazing, glamorous. The armor made Cayde-6 swoon, his feet felt like they were walking on clouds. The Exo could hardly believe he found someone so perfect, and somehow, she liked him just as much? If this was a dream, Cayde never wanted to wake up. Aneira was sly, quick, she had the biggest heart he had ever seen in a person, not to mention she loved his jokes. Clearly she was insane. As the small Guardian removed her helmet, her purple-pink hair fell in front of her amber eyes as they gazed lovingly upon Cayde’s tired form. The Exo knew from day one that Aneira was going to change his life. Now here they were, ready to tackle enemies of the future hand in hand. Cayde-6 couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“Can...can we go over this again?” Erebus’s voice was uneasy as the Warlock placed the palm of her metal hand onto the map of the Clovis Exo Facility. The woman was so nervous, it felt like the entire universe was depending on this plan to work. That facility, it was like a monster. Something deep within was screaming, she could feel it. Darkness was everywhere, there was no doubt about that, but this building gave off such a horrible energy. Aneira could feel it too. Maybe even more so than Erebus. The Hunter placed a soft hand upon the Exo’s shoulder, giving her friend a smile. A gentle way of saying it will be okay. The girls had been best friends for years, they had come up with so many ways to comfort one another. Erebus could feel her metal lips tug into a smile, relaxing almost instantly from Aneira’s touch. Cayde’s hand sat on his chin, rubbing the metal of his jaw as his mind demanded another explanation of the plan. The Vanguard swore he listened but everyone knew it was a lie. Aneira could see the Exo’s eyes drift off, thinking about god knows what. Probably dinner, Colonel, or what color to paint his new sparrow. Drifter’s annoyed voice rose above the noise of the Derelict, the ship struggling to live as the man pulled one of his many jade coin’s from deep within his pocket. He may have had the best team in the whole universe but they had the listening skills of a four year old. “Alright! Let’s go over this one last time!” Drifter’s gloved thumb flicked the coin into the air, it sparkled in the ships dim lights causing everyone’s eyes to lock onto it.

Everyone’s eyes fell onto each other as Drifter’s coin landed firmly in the palm of his hand. The rouge may have finished speaking but it was clear everyone was still nervous. The old light felt a pinch of guilt floating around in his stomach. Drifter couldn’t do anything to ease the pain of what was to come, but he could damn well try. “Ya’ll look like the saddest vex in the system. We haven’t failed yet have we?” The con-man growled out, almost like he wasn’t just trying to convince the group, but himself as well. It had been ages, hell, thousands of years since he last had people in his life he could trust. The fear of it all crashing down made the back of his head burn. With a deep breath, Aneira opened her mouth, ready to voice her thoughts. “We can do this. But Ere and I would have to leave soon.” Cayde nodded, his blue eyes flashing with light as he remembered that his briefing with Zavala would be shortly. “You guys go now, I’ll head back to the Tower. Big Blue wants to talk to me, “correct behavior” and all that. It gives me a chance to stall so you guys can grab what you need and get back unnoticed.” Drifter’s hand reached up to his chin, playing with his beard. A sly grin coated his lips as the man spoke. “I’ll get everything set up here, that way we can start work right away when you get back.” Aneira turned, facing the Warlock who was busy staring at the center of the map. “Ere?” Erebus’s blue lights within her throat lit up as she spoke. “Do you think we can pull this off?.” Silence met the Warlock’s question. Cayde looked at Aneira, praying she would calm the Exo’s nerves but unfortunately Aneira had turned to look at Drifter, praying the same thing. “Kid-” As the older light bearer began to speak, Erebus quickly held up her hand, silencing the man. The Exo’s eyes were firmly locked on the map as she sighed softly. “No, I understand.” Slowly, Erebus gazed upon Aneira, a fake smile plastered on her metal mouth. “Let’s go.”  

Europa was a horrible moon, full of snow and...well snow. If Erebus could shiver, she would have been. “How are you so okay in this weather?!” The Warlock yelled over the harsh winds. She was just metal and wishful thinking put together, how was the human fine in these temperatures? Aneira couldn’t help but laugh as the Hunter watched her friend struggle through a snowbank, only to trip and fall face first into the soft whiteness of the planet. “Well, for one, I know how to walk.” A muffled grunt left Erebus’s throat before the exo began to move her arms and legs in a sweeping motion. “The hell are you doing?” Aneira walked over to her friend’s form, barely hearing Erebus’s answer. “Front facing snow angels.” The Exo muttered through the snow before attempted to get to her knees. Aneira giggled, grabbing onto the Warlock by her shoulders and helping her up. “Can’t you float?” “Not since I lost my light.” Erebus said sadly, kicking the ground as she began to walk once again. Guilt filled the Hunter, following behind the Exo to make sure she wouldn’t fall again. “But it’s okay, just means I can make ice cream with stasis!” Others would think this was a joke but Aneira could feel the pure joy behind Erebus’s words. Somehow losing the ability to float was okay because now she could make vanilla soft serve.  She may have lost her light, but she certainly didn’t lose what made her special. “And you didn’t show me how?” The Hunter teased as she wrapped her hands around Erebus’s arm, helping the Warlock as they walked towards the facility. It took the girls almost an hour to reach, trudging through the endless white snow, untouched for centuries. By the time they got to the door, both women were tired, cold, wet. All Aneira and Erebus wanted was a break, unfortunately they didn’t have time for that. The doors to the monstrous building let out a hiss as they opened up for the women. “...Are you ready?” Erebus’s voice was shaky as she latched onto her friends hand, squeezing it as tightly as she could. The Warlock couldn’t explain it, this rush of familiarity. Had she been here before? Drifter had found her on Europa, but this building seemed different. “I’m ready.” Aneira replied, squeezing her friend’s hand in return.

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

HC: The Eighth Umbral Calamity

Because apparently ya’ll wanna cry LOL

Shadowbringer spoilers | Alternate universe: If G’raha Tia and the Ironworks did not do research on the Crystal Tower and allowed the Eighth Umbral Calamity to run its course

special thanks to @haylin-chan , @sage-just-loves-elves and @windup-dragoon for enabling me like this. further thank you to everyone that liked the cursed post

i’ll be collecting my jars of tears now.

AO3 ver.

❅ ❅ ❅

Premise: With the aid of you, the Warrior of Light, the Garleans had been pushed back, line by line, across accursed Ghimlyt Dark to the point where it was deemed that the Resistance would be able to fully wrestle control and claim victory by the turn of the season. As a result, the ally nations within the Eorzean and Far Eastern Alliance withdrew from the battlefield in order to return to their nation-state and to shore up defenses for any future hostilities that the Garlean Empire would retaliate with.

However, the nation leaders forgot the most important—and more arguably most dangerous—aspect of mortal kind: their irrational unpredictability and desperation when they are backed up too far into the corner. By this logic did the Empire rain hell on the battlefield with the toxic gas, its potency inexplicably high and spared no one along the way…

...Not even you, Warrior of Light. For when you had heard that your comrades were falling by the tens, by the hundreds, you had rushed to the front line as quickly as you could. You took precautions, your entire order did, that you thought would serve as defense against the poison, but it did not work. 

It did not work.

❅ ❅ ❅

[Aymeric]

The Black Rose spared no one on the front. It had been but a fortnight since he had returned to Ishgard when he received the news that the toxic gas had been let loose on the field and he couldn’t help the cold churning within his gut that something was going terribly, terribly wrong.

It was for this reason that he often visited Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral. He prayed and he prayed to blessed Halone to show mercy, to offer Her guidance and protection in this most delicate of times. War often brought with it bloodshed of immeasurable quantities and faith in the divine had never been higher. Aymeric knew this. He knew this.

In the end, his prayers were not answered for the sight of you utterly destroyed him.

They brought your body back from the warzone and as you lay on the cold metal table, he swore that you were just asleep. Despite the wails of utter mortification, of pain and anger, from the Fortemps family—predominantly that of Lord Edmont, for the pain of losing yet another child of his family must be shattering him from within—he wanted to shake you awake because you appeared just as you always do when you would lie with him together in bed, so peaceful and so serene.

Yet, when he touched you—a palm against your cheek in the gentlest of manners, as if you were but a porcelain doll ready to fragment and shatter at any given moment—you were cold as ice.

Aymeric has never felt so empty, so broken, as if a dragon’s talon was impaling him over and over again without cease. The frustration within him broiled as if he was thrown into a blazing inferno for a sin he had not committed. In this entire ordeal, the same thoughts ring over and over again in his mind:

Why has the Fury forsaken us? Have we not suffered enough? Why did you go alone?

Why was I not there with you?

In his frustration, and after a few punches to the wall, Aymeric takes up his sword once more and gives the order for a return march to the front. If he was correct in his thinking, the Alliance would be requesting reinforcements anyway and he could argue that he was taking the initiative. Though, all he wanted was revenge. He was going to have. It.

Even if he has to die trying.

[Estinien]

Estinien swore that he wasn’t going to reveal himself on the front lines. The dragoon swore that he was only going to remain in the shadows, plucking off the war machina that he knew would be aiming for your blind spot, as you fought and fought and fought your way through your aches and exhaustion to reclaim the line that was regained by the Garleans.

In fact, he figured that it was only a matter of time, for you have allowed the returning Alliance members to push farther than they could have hoped for. In a way, it was almost as if the rumors of the soldiers dropping like flies was exaggerated overmuch, as rumors are wont to do in any given situation. So why?

Why did he have such a heavy sense of foreboding?

His instincts flared then, drawing him to attention, for there was a distinct change in the aether swirling about him emanating from the Garlean side. It was like a prickle, small like a leech, but he couldn’t shake it off. Soon enough, it was as if he was drowning on the inside the more he breathed in the scent of smoke and flame...smoke and flame…

When Estinien understood what was occurring, his head snapped towards where you were standing. With the amount of exertion you were displaying, the constant panting and pauses to catch your breath, you were in the most danger.

And his sense of foreboding proved true when you had collapsed to your knees on the battlefield.

Adrenaline pulsated within the dragoon’s blood, but even at his distance, he was growing weak. Darkness started spotting his eyes and he was growing dizzy, fatigued, exhausted.

Not like this, not like this!

The man mustered all his strength to vault into the air. It was shaky, even through his addled mind he knew this, but you were in danger. You were in danger. He won’t let you be in danger…!

A part of him registered landing by your side, scooping you up within his arms just before you were about to get hit by a magitek ray, and jumping into the air once more. However, he had used up all his energy just reaching you and the distance he wanted to put between you and the danger was nowhere near enough.

In the end, he had collapsed in some unseen corner of the battlefield close to Resistance Headquarters, with you on his lap and within his arms. At this point, even the inner dragon within was growing tame, growing lax, and it was then he knew that it was too late.

So, he pressed a kiss on your forehead, only noticing now that you were barely awake and crying in front of him and this caused him to shed tears of his own.

“Est...in...I…” you attempted. “Shh…” he whispered back meekly, holding you close as he felt himself fading away all the same. “I...love...sor-” “No…”

No. I am sorry. I love you.

I will not let you go alone.

[Haurchefant]

(AU where he’s still alive for the sake of this cursed post)

It was always tradition that the eldest son was to be the one selected to go into battle when there is a need for it. That being said, the role of the youngest son was to ensure that support was given where needed, but to focus predominantly on shoring up the defense on the home front. Haurchefant being the middle son, was duty-bound to serve on the front lines with Artoirel and he couldn’t be happier for the opportunity.

Or, at least, he thought he couldn’t be happier.

When the Alliance had deemed it acceptable to leave the defense to the Resistance, allowing token forces to stay within headquarters to maintain an efficient communications network in case things were to go south, he attempted negotiating with the lord commander for him to stay. He wouldn’t admit that it was no more than an excuse to ensure he could always have your back during a fight and was no more surprised when Aymeric told him no with an amused smile on his face.

Before he left, he approached you for a temporary farewell. He will pray for your success, will pray for good fortune to you so that you may bring freedom to all of Eorzea in the face of the ones that wish to lock them all away like rabid dogs. After all, you had brought his people solace after a thousand-year-long war and he has no doubt that you would be able to do the same here.

Little did he know that the smile that you had given then and the words of reassurance you had spoken was to be the last he would have of you.

The next time you appeared before him, he was staring at your corpse on top of a metal table. His eyes were wide with disbelief, a part of him dying, detaching and breaking away from inside of him as a result. Even at the behest of his father, who urged him that it was alright to openly weep for the loss, he left the room to be on his lonesome, somehow wandering outside in the process.

How could I have been so foolish? How could I not have known? How could this possibly happen?

...Why did I choose to follow propriety and not kiss you?

Somehow, in his dark musings, Haurchefant ended up walking to his encampment and from the corner of his eye, he saw the entrance to the intercessory. The Falling Snows. The place that he had welcomed you to use when you sought his help.

He entered the hall and he collapsed to his knees almost immediately. All alone, he unravels his burdens, his pains and woes, along with punching the stone cold floors and walls, tossing anything and everything that he could in a fit of rage that he is unable to break away from. It took half a dozen knights to restrain him when he tried going after you searching for Shiva, and it took half a dozen more with the help of an anesthetic to force him to stop hurting himself now.

You needed me, he thought amidst the darkness. You needed me...and I left you all alone.

[Thancred]

As planned, Thancred had taken a group of the most highly skilled Far Eastern operatives in order to carry out the subterfuge plan that he so easily proposed in front of the Alliance leaders. When you had approached him afterwards, urging him to be careful, he smiled and held you close.

“Worry not, I have done this before. I will ensure that I come back to you.”

All of the Scions knew protocol. Those participating in the espionage aspect of their order are issued a special set of linkpearl that are able to tap into multiple different frequencies if they knew the proper input code. With this, they are able to listen in to radio messages sent between different sectors of Garlemald’s imperial army…as well as receive coded messages from their allies safely and without any fear of being eavesdropped.

Then, one day and completely out of the usual norm, he had received a message from home base.

“BEACON. ROSE. GONE.”

Thancred knew that the mention of ‘beacon’ is a reference to you. While you may not know it, the rest of the order had decided this codename to reference you during missions because that’s what you were: a beacon of hope in the darkest times, lit up the brightest for those that can yet be saved.

‘Rose’ could only mean one thing, the Black Rose that had been brought to light thanks to Alphinaud’s efforts elsewhere on Garlean territory. The deadly poison was so potent that it was enough to utterly annihilate a group of insurgents seeking to revolt against the Empire. If anyone were to so much breathe it in, then-

‘Gone.’

Thancred’s heart almost gave way when he pieced the puzzle together. At this point, the mission was more or less complete as rumors of the puppet prince was beginning to gain traction, so he sent the order that the infiltrators remain on standby to ensure the fire was still burning as he returned.

Faster. Faster. Faster!

What greeted him upon his return to Seventh Heaven was what he didn’t wish for. Something that he couldn’t have ever imagined.

Your body was laid out on one of the beds in the medical wing, the other Scions—including Alphinaud—surrounding you in a circle. The twins were openly weeping, Alisaie being held in her brother’s arms. Y’shtola couldn’t bear to look, choosing to stand in the corner with Krile and Urianger’s consolations because it was so, so wrong to gaze upon your features without the glitter of your aether flowing from you.

“This has to be some sort of joke…” Thancred began as he approached your bedside. 

He called your name and when you didn’t respond, he reached out to hold your hand and found it eerily cold, like the Coerthan winter that you had escaped to after the bloody banquet. After he had failed Minfilia.

The thought tore him apart as he reached out to collect your body in his arms. This time, he allowed himself to cry in front of the others. He allowed himself this weakness that he forbade himself from feeling upon learning that Minfilia was gone. As he held you, his body was shaking, racking with sobs that was so painful to watch because of the fact that he would be the last one to show any emotion asides from frustration during a mission.

“I failed...I failed yet again...to save what I hold dear…”

With his words, the others couldn’t hold it in anymore. Their beacon of hope was lost.

You weren’t coming back.

[Hien]

He was the one that urged Yugiri to remain in Eorzea to provide continuous aid to the Alliance granted the number of stationed shinobi in the region. Upon learning the Scions’ plan to infiltrate into Garlean territory, Hien was rather proud of his nation’s immediate ability to contribute in the war effort, in the name of freedom that you and yours had provided to his country.

When he received the news that the leftover defense of the line at Ghimlyt Dark was to be left to the Resistance, when Yugiri had returned to the Kienkan in order to personally deliver the message, he thought finally. Finally, his brothers and sisters have the upper hand and will no longer have to live in fear of those monsters that had taken so much from them for their delusional causes.

Oh, how cruel the kami must be.

You had been sending him letters the entire time. On the surface, it was to keep him updated on the war but he mostly wanted to make sure that you weren’t pushing yourself overmuch in a land where he isn’t able to easily reach. He would often tease in his letters that, should the next time you come to visit be of leisure, he will no longer be tempted to release you from his embrace once more. He wanted to hold you, he wanted to touch you, he wanted you to be safe.

Then, your letters stopped coming.

One day, two days, three days, ten, there was radio silence even from the Alliance and he was half tempted to send a runner to your homeland to bear word on what may be going on. The only thing that stopped him then was Lyse coming on her own volition, bearing the message herself.

“Hien, I’m sorry…” the woman began and there was a ringing growing louder in the Doman lord’s ears. “Lyse, do not—” “Hien, the Warrior—” “—I implore you, please stop—” “—because of Black Rose—” “LYSE!”

Even as Hien stood to his feet, shouting the woman’s name from the top of his lungs with such disrespect in front of his ministers, Lyse continued eyeing him patiently. Painfully. For the words that were to escape her lips were unkind, unfair, and it makes him wonder what exactly the kami have planned for their people.

“...Hien, they are gone,” Lyse says softly, brokenly, with as much pain that he must have been feeling since she had worked with you for the majority of your journey as the Warrior of Light.

It only took but a moment for him to decide that he was going to return to Eorzea in the company of a contingent of soldiers. After all, if Lyse had decided to make a personal visit asides from passing the message along—which could have been done by any other Scion—then that meant that something had gone terribly wrong.

Prior to boarding the ship sailing for your homeland, Hien brings the letters that you had sent him all this time. In his private quarters, he reads them, over and over again. He could still hear your voice saying the words on the paper in his mind. Even as he spilled tears as he read the words, he could still hear you.

He wishes that he could hear your voice again.

[ralphspina]

Make a Gumbo, Shake an Ass

I somehow managed to delete the ask that I just answered with this sooo...oops! Thankfully, I saved a screenshot out of paranoia that Tumblr would eat it 😂

Tagging: @gottapenny​ @itisjustmethistime​ @indigosandviolets​ 

-------------

As Gene approaches the door to the apartment he shares with Ralph, he can hear a familiar sounding beat thudding out into the hallway from their place. He can't quite place it until he opens the door and steps inside.

When I walk up in the piece I ain't gotta even speak

Standing in the living room, Gene can hear the lyrics clearly now. He can also very clearly hear Ralph`s (godawful) attempt to rap along. He nearly doubles over in laughter but manages to hold it in because this is just too good and there's no way he wants to let on that he's here yet. Gene bites the inside of his cheek, hand firmly clamped over his mouth, as he sneaks up to the kitchen doorway.

And stop talking bout who I'm sticking and licking jus mad it ain't yours I know ya'll poor ya'll broke Ya'll job jus hanging up clothes Step to me get burnt like toast Mothafuckas adios amigos Halves halves wholes wholes I don't brag I mostly boast

What he sees when he gets reaches the doorway causes a burst of laughter to escape, blowing his cover - not only is Ralph enthusiastically rapping along to Missy Elliot but he’s dancing around, shaking his ass, a stirring spoon in each hand, in a kitchen that looks like it’s been through World War III (and lost). A look of absolute horror crosses over Ralph’s face and he freezes in place like a deer caught in headlights the second he realizes he has an audience. The expression on his best friend`s face is what finally does Gene in and he falls into a fit of laughter that shakes his whole body.

Ralph shuts off the music and waits, a tad red-faced, as Gene slowly collects himself. It takes longer than expected but Gene finally straightens back up, massive grin splayed across his face, but no longer laughing.

“You weren't s’posed to be home yet.”

“Got out early,” Gene says slowly as his eyes take in the full extent of the destroyed kitchen, “What’re you makin’? Or tryin’ to make?”

“Well, it’s your birthday and you were complaining the other day ‘bout there not being any real Cajun food ‘round here so I thought I’d, uh, make some.”

Gene`s a bit speechless for a minute as he takes another look around the kitchen, this time his eyes picking out the familiar ingredients of home.

“Wasn’t exactly going great…” Ralph lets the sentence trail off, opting to let the mess speak for itself.

A smile twitches at Gene’s lips as his eyes flick back towards his friend. “Thank you, Ralph,” - there’s a full blown smile on his face now -  “It’s a bit messy but I’m sure it’ll taste good.”

Ralph makes an amused snorting sound at the statement, “Don’t hold your breath, bud. I’m telling ya, I ain’t cut out for Cajun cooking.”

“Can’t be that bad,” Gene replies as he lifts up a lid on one of the pots. Looking at the contents simmering inside, he furrows his brow as he tries to identify the dish.

“What’s this one?”

“Gumbo. No, that’s the jambalaya. Or maybe the gravy for the rice. Shit, I don’t know.”

Ralph had not been kidding when he said he wasn’t cut out for Cajun cooking. Not even a little bit. There are about five different pots going, all with fairly unidentifiable contents - some seem to have fish, some have pork (or chicken?), some seem to have both. One of the pots seems to have enough peppers and hot sauce in it to drown an elephant - when Gene takes a whiff of it, it burns the inside of his nose and down his throat.

“Alright, well… ain’t nothin’ that can’t be fixed up,” Gene tries his best to put far more optimism in his voice than he actually feels.

They set about cleaning up the disaster zone formerly known as their kitchen and attempting to save the food that seems salvageable. It takes the whole afternoon, but neither of them notice. The time flies by as they talk and joke and Gene teaches Ralph the art of Cajun cooking with the patience of a saint. By the time anything's ready to eat, the sun has long since set.

They sit at their small kitchen table, each with a bowl of half decent gumbo, eating in companionable silence as a cool breeze blows in from the open window. The breeze is a bit of a blessing in the overly hot kitchen, which doesn’t escape Ralph’s attention.

“Shit, it’s hot in here.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend all day cookin’. And shakin’ your ass.” The teasing tone in Gene’s words is accompanied by a smirk dripping with “pain in the ass little brother” vibes.

“Fuck you, Eugene,” responds Ralph as he tosses a piece of bread crust at Gene’s head, “Ain’t gotta be jealous just ‘cause you can’t shake your ass like me.”

“Guess you should add ass shakin’ to your resume, right next to singin’ ‘n’ Cajun cookin’.”

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (2.5)🌪

a/n: ya’ll if falling in love with this man was a sport---I’d win the world championship.

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2789

“he didn’t throw the first punch I saw it all from the bathroom. the guys were threatening to kill him i swear”. the principal pushes his lips into a thin line. yeonjun is just drumming his fingers on his lap hoping he’d believe him and soobin was sitting aside, still trying to fix his uniform and look presentable while michael was in the nurse’s office. he was surprised yeonjun was even in there defending his name like that. 

“are you sure choi yeonjun?”. the principal asked skeptically. he wanted to believe soobin was in the wrong here, for some stupid sick reason. but yeonjun didn’t let that happen. he nodded confidently. the principal huffs his breath. 

“fine, I’ll believe you since you’re a trustworthy student. choi soobin I’m not going to suspend you since you were defending yourself against a group. however I will have to notify your parents”. he informed. and soobin had no problem with that considering the fact that he blocked the school’s number from his parent’s phones. soobin nodded gratefully, his parents would’ve tried to beat him until he couldn’t breathe anymore if they found out he got suspend from school. 

“thank you”. the boys both bowed before exiting out of his office and the principal was set to call the other boys involved them and notify them about their suspension. it was weird walking in the halls with someone he wasn’t that fond of instead of his boys. well, his ex-boys. soobin pushes his hands in his pockets trying to figure out how to speak.

“you know um- thank you. you didn’t have to do that for me”. he finally said after a moment of awkward silence. 

“don’t thank me that’s weird. I still hate you”. yeonjun pronounces with a small grin. soobin laughs. 

“that’s how it’s gonna be?”. 

“hell yeah. I still don’t forgive you for pushing me on the floor of your house when you first met me”. yeonjun admitted. soobin laughs again. 

“I didn’t know you. barely even knew you were a fucking choi”. 

“I’m convinced that even if you knew you’d still try to beat my ass because that’s who you are”. 

“touché”. soobin agrees. they both were just following one another, going nowhere in particular. 

“so um--have you told her yet?”. yeonjun asks. soobin shakes his head. 

“not yet”. 

“why not?”. 

“you know why”. 

yeonjun breathes hard. “you’re just digging a deeper hole for yourself soobin”.

“I can’t do it man..”. soobin trails off. 

“how is she doing anyways? mia?”.

soobin shrugs. 

“I went to apologize to her the other day she looked... like a zombie but I don’t want to get too involved with her because I don’t want to get blamed for shit else”. 

yeonjun shakes his head laughing, “you’re crazy for doing it in the first place”.

“you want to know whose crazy? olivia”. 

“how?”.

“she’s been trying to get with me ever since mia stopped appearing so much at school. what the fuck type of best friend is that?”. 

“that’s pretty fucked up. but that’s how girls are. well, except for your little girlfriend”. yeonjun teases and soobin shoves him to the side to keep from blushing. 

“shut the fuck up”. was all soobin could say before he waited outside your classroom door for you. yeonjun knew what he was up to so he didn’t bother hanging around for long. he hated being around couples anyway, they were annoying. 

making the absolute wrong decision soobin decides to scare you while you’re walking out of the classroom and you jump back with your heart at the pit of your stomach. once you noticed it was him he decided to run down the hallway and you weren’t afraid to chase him since you both shared the next class. turning down 2 corners and 2 more more hallways later you finally catch him in the cut of two lockers. “why would you do that you scared me!”. you playfully yell and he holds his hands up in surrender. 

“alright i’m sorry I’m sorry. I just thought it would be funny”. soobin stares trying to look serious but you knew a laugh was coming. you roll your eyes and walk the other way back to class. soobin follows after you and grips your waist from behind. 

“are you really mad? I said I was sorry”. he begs. you thought the way he was acting was kind of cute so you furthered your agenda and kept ignoring him. he noticed you weren’t speaking so he steps in front of you. you cross your arms and glare up at him. “forgive me”. he pleads again and this time you step to the other side and continue walking to class. “mama”. he calls out. you ignore him again and arrive in your classroom grabbing the assignment sister helena had laid out for you both. you got a head start with writing your name on the paper and getting settled before soobin slid next to you. he turned to speak but sister helena decided to lay down the rules for today’s video, as if you all didn’t know what to do each day. you had to say though, class was so much better without kevin and his obnoxious antics. you didn’t know where he was but you hoped he stayed there for the rest of his life.

anyway, sister helena turns off the lights and turns on the tv instead. half of your classmates were already ready to go to sleep including you. you decided to stay up a little more last night to study. but it was hard to go to sleep with soobin landing his hand on your thigh. you jump up a bit with shock. you glance at sister helena to make sure she wasn’t looking. 

“what are you doing?”. 

“oh now you want to speak to me?”. you swat his hand away. 

“yes because you’re touching me. move”. you demand. but you knew deep inside your heart you didn’t mean it. you found yourself wanting soobin more and more each day. you kind of thought being horny was like some sort of drug now. it was a thrill you couldn’t resist. 

soobin smirks and leans your ear, letting his veiny hand wrap around your thigh even tighter. “who do you think you’re talking to hm?”. you shuddered even harder than you did the day before. you had to give yourself a pep talk to stay strong. you lay your hand on his. 

“ssoobin we can’t do this here”.

“we’re in the back of the classroom no one even notices us”. he whispers. he moves his hand closer and closer to your heat. 

“soobin I said mmove”. you shakily respond. and he does nothing but chuckles in your ear. he make sure sister helena is occupied before he continued. he lets his tongue drag from your neck to the back of your ear and tongue kisses it softly. “listen to me. you? don’t give orders. only I do that. and if I want to play with your pussy I will. do you understand me?”.

you sit calm feeling moisture pool into your panties. his voice was darker than you ever heard it. it made you kind of scared and suddenly you forgot all possible ways to regulate your breathing. “say yes daddy”. he orders. your heart races faster at his fingers brushing against your clit through your panties. “say it”. he demands again through clenched teeth. you did as you were told and you could feel him smile prior to kissing you on your cheek. “ good girl”. he snatches his hand away from you pretending to be focused on the tv screen. 

you were going crazy on the inside. you wanted to be touched, you wanted to be yelled at, you wanted to be punished. maybe you did have a daddy kink. you’ll admit that. but you couldn’t admit how horny soobin made you. you were trapped in a daze and soobin knew it. he was filling out the answers on the paper smoothly. you sat uncomfortably in your seat until class over. he shouldn’t have left you wet like that. 

“I told my mother you were tutoring me again today. not that she gave a fuck anyways”. soobin mentions while you grab your things out of your locker. “who said I wanted to tutor you today? what if my parents don’t like you?”. soobin scoffs. “yeah right. and you know you want to tutor me you just don’t like being nice to me for some reason”. you laugh a little. “I have to see if my parents are home”. soobin shrugs. “so what if they are? we’re just studying right?”.

you give soobin a glance almost as if to say, “yeah right”. he laughs in exchange. the both of you head towards his car. “I promise I won’t touch you this time. I really need to pass these exams. maybe i’ll prove to my parents that I’m a good kid after all”. you slide into the passenger seat, “you are a good kid. you just have bad kid tendencies”. soobin thinks about it for a moment until you decide to change the subject. “I have to call mia today to see how she’s doing”. you mention slipping out your phone. you dialed her number and it rang a few times before going straight to voicemail. you decided to call again getting a little worried. after the third ring the phone was answered but you could tell it wasn’t mia. 

“hello? whose this?”. the voice asked. 

“hey it’s me. the girl that brought mia to your car. I wanted to ask how she was doing?”.

“oh hey, this is mia’s mom and she’s doing okay. we took her to the hospital and the doctors prescribed her medication that has a bit of a side effect on her so we don’t know how much longer she’ll be out of school”. 

“aw, well. I hope she get’s better soon. school is boring so she’s missing out on nothing”. 

her mom chuckles lightly, “I’ll tell her you called for her okay?”. 

“okay. see you soon”. 

“okay, bye”.

you pressed the button and slide your phone back in your pocket. 

“i missed you”. soobin muttered. you suck your teeth and laugh. “oh shut up soobin”.

“do you want to get something to eat before we go to your house?”. 

“no we can eat there. I don’t want you to keep spending money”. 

“money grows on trees you know”. 

“says one of the richest guys in town”. soobin laughs this time. he never minded spending money when it came to you but he didn’t want to sound cheesy so he kept quiet. 

❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉

you tell soobin to keep quiet just in case one of your parents were home. your house was weird, the parking spots were at the back so you couldn’t exactly tell if your parents were home unless you went back there. you open the door with your key and spot absolutely no one. But you couldn’t make assumptions so you snuck soobin to your room as fast as you could and locked the door behind you.

You figured you were pretty safe but you still requested the soobin keep his voice low. you kick your shoes off and sit your textbooks out. soobin does the same on your bed, making himself at home. you thought he looked rather cuter when he looked nerdy. “do you remember what I taught you?”. you asked now moving your textbooks and notebooks to the bed. soobin nods. “internalize more than you memorize right?”. you pinch his cheeks and smile. “good job! do you want a sticker?”. it sounded like you were mocking him, but you actually did have a sheet of stickers in your drawer. soobin creates a pout with his lips, “yes please!”. he says like a child. you roll your eyes and smile, going to your drawer to fetch them. you held the sheet and peeled off a gold star sticking it to his forehead. he looked so pleased with himself it was adorable. 

you open your textbook and you instruct soobin to open his and start from the first chapter review and take notes. he nods and does as he were told. while the both of you studied you watch him steadily making sure he was writing down things that were relevant to the chapter. so far so good, his notes looked pretty neat and organized. you decided to catch yourself up on your own notes. you were practicing math, the subject you hated most. the good part about this was that you were already prepared to not do well on the exam so it wouldn’t be much of a shock if you didn’t. 

time progresses and the both of you filled your notebooks with notes. soobin now writing down important information from the chapter 3 review and you, going through several steps just to solve another math equation. you had to admit soobin was doing really well and he was paying good enough attention. you smirk. “how come you couldn’t do this in school?”. 

“everyone thought i was stupid so i didn’t care enough”. 

“that’s all it was?”.

“well sometimes it takes the right person to believe in you for you to do well. especially when you can’t believe in yourself”. 

“if you keep studying like that you can pass any exam in that school I’ll tell you that. you have good focus”.

“yeah well, thank you for believing in me if so”. you blush, pushing his shoulder playfully. 

“stop being cheesy soobin”. 

“hey since i’ve been studying well do I get something else?”. 

you slide a strand of your hair back putting your pencil back to your paper. “what do you want? another sticker?”. you were halfway through the equation when you realized soobin was still quiet. you glimpse at him for an answer and he was just staring at you. he waited until your eyes gave him permission to speak. and they did. 

“when initiating sex theres the kissing, theres the hickeys, the touching and the feeling. but the most important thing you should do before you have sex is perform oral sex. do you know about it?”. 

your heart started to race. 

“was it in the video we watched?”. you question. soobin nods. his face was so unreadable it became scary. “so what are you saying soobin?”. 

he positions your body on the edge of the bed before he gets on the floor in front of you setting a hand on your knee. you glare down at him in shock, you were nervous beyond words. 

“would you like to see what that feels like?”. you fixed your mouth to answer but soobin was already planting sloppy tongue kisses along your thighs and inner thigh. you panted softly, “ssooobin we can’t make noise”. you stuttered. soobin flips your skirt up giving himself more access to you. “you better keep quiet then”. he mumbles. you were about to say something else but soobin thought it was best to lick your pussy through your panties. you felt yourself growing weak and you were growing hotter at the feeling of his mouth. you started panting even heavier agreeing that if this wasn’t the best feeling in the world you didn’t know what was. 

with lustful eyes he glances up at you and slides down your panties with ease, putting a finger to his lips signaling for you to be quiet. but it was hard to do that when soobin immediately wraps his lips around your clit sucking it softly. you let out a high pitched moan by accident, slapping a hand over your mouth shortly after. his lips were so delicate on you and he looked so invested in making sure you felt good. he could feel your legs trembling as he licked around your folds. so he made it his duty to intertwine his hands with yours so you’d have something to grasp onto when you couldn’t handle it. as his tongue traveled you you squeezed his hands harder. 

you were whining and squirming on his tongue and that didn’t make things any better. you bit your lips and cried, “ssoobin i don’t knnow if I can stayy quiet for this long”. you moan and he’s ignoring you, tongue kissing your clit over and over as if it were your tongue. you open your mouth and exhale trying to keep yourself in order but you couldn’t help your small cries. you were throbbing harshly and beyond wet at this point. 

that was, until you heard your dad calling your name and walking up the staircase.