#That I have to try and fight back with a stick

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 14 - Eight of Wands

summary : garen tries to help you out a bit after the events with fiora, and things start getting much better than you thought they would evolve to but also : what is this feeling you're starting to feel?

content warnings : hurt. (sorry), mention of blood and fighting + injuries, some sort of comfort? adults communicating (i know, that's so hot right), also omg um tension? hihi we're on the tension road now and it will escalate chapter after chapter

word count : 11,2k

author's note : okay this is a big boi of a chap here loves, and i hope you will like it! as always i'm in big doubts about it because i've been wondering about the pacing and whether i'm going too fast or not for it, let me know in the comments!!! speaking of which, i know i haven't been able to answer to all the loverly things you guys said, but i want you to know that i read everything i received and cherish it with my whole heart <33 thank you so much. imma try and work on some of my requests bc gadayum they've been in my inbox forever and i feel bad about it!!

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

vocab words for this : mais quelle anguille = what an eel.

Your fists struck against swollen, inert flesh, your red knuckles and dirt-caked fingernails mixing crusty blood and muck, curled tightly as you mechanically landed blow after blow.

The body beneath yours was still, an unrecognisable face below you, swollen and bloodied, red and blue blending unnaturally on youthful traits.

As your fist rose into the sky again, preparing to strike another blow, a huge hand engulfed your wrist like a handcuff and pulled you to your feet.

The bleachers roared out, their wood shaking and cracking as your fist was hoisted into the air.

Winner.

Your eyes stared at the ground for a moment before they reached the motionless figure you'd left behind. Vome came and crouched beside her, bringing his white sausage-like fingers to her neck for a pulse check, but you were carried out of the arena before he could deliver his verdict.

Fourteen found you, his tired features splitting his face and accompanying the few scars he had obtained. His eyes fell on your hands, gloved with blood that was drying unpleasantly on your skin.

He came over to you, his thin smile comforting, his voice low. He took your hand, not caring about getting dirty.

"Come," his voice was soft, contrasting with the shouts from the arena you could still hear a few seconds ago, "let's get you cleaned up."

He walked with you slowly, his hand keeping yours in a pleasant embrace like a comforter. 

You reached the dormitory, its name not particularly associated with its appearance. In a dim light made up of candlelit crevices carved into the walls of a damp cave, thin floor mats eaten away by rats and other critters stretched down a low corridor.

The rock was dark, hard and crumble-free, water from your breaths and compressed air dripping down the sides of the stone that made it one of the small sources of water available.

A few others were sleeping there, their bodies emaciated from lack of food, their skin dull from lack of external light, their greasy, stringy hair sticking unpleasantly to their skin.

Fourteen led you to your futon and sat you down. You remained silent, your jaw clenched as if opening your mouth was going to spill something inside you that you couldn't afford to let go.

He went away for a moment, but you weren't worried. You simply bent your knees, hunched your back as you came to rest your head against your knees. It was unpleasant - your cheek hurt, one of the blows had hit your cheekbone, but you didn't care. You were tired from the effort your body had had to make, and you would almost have fallen asleep if your eyes and your mind could have allowed you to.

Fourteen returned, a small bowl filled with water in one hand, a rag that held a strange, dirty tint in the other. 

"Let's see," he sighed as he sat cross-legged next to you and took one of your hands from the floor.

He dipped the cloth into the water, soaking it generously before your palm resided in his and he gently ran the cloth over the back of your hand.

The cloth was rough, coarse, scraping more than it softened. But it wasn't about comfort, it never had been. It was just a way of sleeping better at night, even if it was difficult.

Fourteen did the washing without ever pressing too hard, only trying to clean your fingers of blood and other dirt so that it didn't become uncomfortable, and probably because it was a human thing to do.

"You did well out there," he said as he dipped the cloth back into the bowl, the water tinting slightly in the little warm lights you could afford.

Well, you did well. Punching someone until they passed out while you were in the same situation as them was well. 

Your cheek still resting on your knee, staring off into space and letting that rough caress cover your skin, you felt tired.

"Did I kill her?"

Your voice was cracked, like the sound of a turntable with a diamond on it, but where the song never started.

Fourteen stopped in his tracks, his eyes shifting from the damaged knuckles of your hand to your eyes. He took a deep breath before sighing, and you could feel the warm air hitting the raw flesh of your hand - but you didn't care.

"She's under care," he replied simply.

Between life and death, you concluded, and you were responsible.

Every night, you wondered if you'd been violent enough to make a profit the next day. You wondered if, perhaps, you had fed their appetites enough for them to offer you sustenance.

You didn't dare look at the others, wondering if one day you'd have to face one of them. You were terrified from this very thought.

Terrified of finding yourself in the state you'd put a fellow kid in. Terrified of taking a life. Terrified that one day you'd have to face Fourteen.

"Do you think this will stop one day?"

Your questions were so heavy in your mouth, so light in the air, lost in the dark uncertainty of the room.

"It will," Fourteen confirmed as he brought the cloth to press it to your cheekbone, "I promise.

You woke with a jolt, your body drenched in sweat while the room was still bathed in the darkness of the night.

Water. 

You got up, the damp fabric of your bed sheet repulsing you as you made your way to the bathroom, gasping for air. Your body burned, your fingers swollen with heat as you turned the tap and vigorously scrubbed your hands under the coldest water you could get your hands on. 

You turned off the tap, letting the sink fill up as your bewildered eyes caught your reflection in the mirror. You breathed hard, your pupils small and your hair a mess. Anger bubbled up inside you, boiling up your gullet.

Your face contorted in the air one last time as you turned off the tap when the sink was almost full to the brim. You plunged your whole head in, hands gripping the pale sides firmly as you let the coolness of the water engulf you.

A deep roar rose from your gut, crossing your throat and bursting under the silence of the water, the boiling bubbles of your frustration making it shake.

The water would cleanse you, purify you, hold the heaviness of your pain in its path and carry it away with it in silence, without anyone seeing or hearing a thing.

After that cry buried under the surface, as you drew in a breath, you choked on the water, mixing the salt of your tears with the chalky petricite aftertaste it contained. You pulled your head back, coughing violently, your face aching with frowns as beads of water more unpleasant than your sweat dripped onto your skin.

Clean. I need to be clean.

You threw off your pyjamas in a panic, tossing them carelessly on the mosaic floor as you climbed into the bath. Your legs were too weak to stay up in the shower, so you repeated the same thing you'd done at the sink.

The bath began to run, the initially cool water reaching your toes, doing nothing to calm your incessant trembling but helping the heat in your fingers.

The hot water arrived shortly afterwards, lukewarm as it mixed with the previous chill. After the freshness that had bathed your face, you were looking for insatiable warmth, water so hot that it would pasteurise everything in you and wipe the slate clean until you were neat and pure and flawless.

But you didn't offer yourself that torment. You had already suffered enough physical pain the day before and you weren't going to punish yourself any more, even if you wanted to. 

It was just a mistake, an overreaction, you weren't going to do it again. Never, ever again.

You never wanted to commit this again anyway, it wasn't a desire, just a fiery response that you thought you'd buried deep in the cracks of your memory.

And all those eyes watching you, waiting in fear for your every move, a fear that had changed sides.

The water finally reached your chest, and you turned off the tap with your foot, sinking into the pleasant warmth that stopped the shaking.

Your hands gripped each of your shoulders firmly, holding you in place as if you were in danger of exploding into a multitude of shards of glass. You breathed in heavily, trying to calm yourself down.

You had to think of something else, find a way to anchor yourself, and you knew one that Selene had taught you. So you closed your eyes and recited in your head.

In a village, there is a house. It has yellow curtains, a red table and a blue sponge. What more can you tell me about it?

You breathed softly, trying to imagine its interior.

There are huge green enamel bowls, an orange sofa soaking up the afternoon sun with turquoise cushions. In the bathroom, there's a hot shower that's airing out the smell of shampoo and bubbles of foam on the walls.

The idea of being indoors again almost made you feel like suffocating though, so you changed your point of view.

This house has lots of windows and hardly any walls overlooking a garden. It has a small vegetable garden with tomato plants and basil, an arbour where wisteria grows in spring, and a deckchair where you can lie back and bask in the sun while reading a book. Butterflies flutter by during the day, fireflies light up the garden at night, and cicadas are always singing.

You felt your body relax, your heart less stressed as you sank into the bath until only your head emerged from the water and your ears were covered from reality.

When you come back into the house, pieces of crystal shimmer multicoloured lights on the walls as you pour lemonade into purple cups. Your lips pressed together, the memory of the coffee you shared the night before returning to your mind. Your heart began to beat again, your skin feeling warmer than the bath water.

You inevitably thought back to the look in his eyes, piercing yours with that dark glint that made your tummy feel so warm. Why did you feel that way? Why did his gaze on you mean so much to you? Why did you want more?

You sighed, your eyes opening on the bathroom ceiling. You turned slightly on your side, curling your legs up against you.

The warm bath water caressed your cheekbone, making you hiss. You'd taken very little care of your wounds yesterday. After your fight, you went straight to the hotel, never escaping the curious and worried glances of passers-by.

You changed quickly, cleaning your face and applying the compresses you always kept in your toiletry bag just in case before going out again. 

You needed to walk, you needed to not be solicited, you needed to get your adrenalin down and get as far away as possible from anyone you knew.

What you'd just done had the terrible potential to get you into a lot of trouble. This behaviour was unworthy of the greatness of Piltover Academy, you were supposed to represent the splendour of your excellence, not deposit a reputation for violence and rudeness outside the white gates of the great city of Demacia.

What if the Academy expelled you for this disruptive behaviour? What if, after this trip, you could never set foot in the Academy again?

Not only did this problem linger in the back of your mind, but there was another worry on the rise. Fiora was heiress to one of the most powerful families in Demacia, and you dreaded the reaction her parents would have when she returned and they saw the state you had put her in.

You had attacked their daughter on their own territory with blows that could have sent her to her death, and you didn't know what would happen.

You hadn't returned from your walk until night had fallen and you were beginning to feel hungry.

You had taken an empty table in the hotel, the eyes of the students and other customers on you, but you had yours on your meal, which you ate quickly before going to bed.

And there you were, in your bath, remorse biting you harder than rust on metal.

You took your hands off your shoulders, letting the warmth of the bath cover your palms before bringing them up to your face, grunting slightly as your swollen skin ached.

You didn't want to go out today, you didn't want to have to go to class, you didn't want to have to meet the same faces and stares that had seen a side of you the day before that you wished was dead and buried.

But you had to face this world out there, face it despite all this, and move on.

When the bath water was cooler than hot, you got out. You ran your hand over the steamy surface of the mirror, tracing a horizontal V to reveal your reflection, tired but less erratic than before. You sighed, needing to take care of your bruises, the fresh marks on your body before they got any worse.

You wrapped yourself in a towel, tidying up your hair and wringing it out before leaving the bathroom.

The second bed was of course still empty. You'd probably have had something to worry about if Fiora had decided to sleep in there with you, and you dreaded the thought of having to wake up with a blade to your throat, or never seeing the light of day again.

You dressed simply, there were still about four days to spend in Demacia, and you weren't as enthusiastic about it as you'd been at first.

The subdued light in your room wasn't going to help you with your patch-up job, so you decided instead to put on a jumper paired with jogging pants before getting out of your room to have breakfast, if the hotel was even open.

To your surprise, the staff were already busy in the kitchen, and the buffet table was filling up by the minute with pastries, breads and spreads, all different and appetising.

You took whatever appealed to you most, revelling in the knowledge that you didn't have to pay for anything during your stay. So you took a seat on a bench in a corner, near a window overlooking the city still bathed in the blue of the night.

You relished the silence, the blue glasses that calmed everything, the solitude. You regained a little of your peacefulness, fighting whatever was in you not to stuff your plate on the spot out of bad habit.

When you brought your cup to your lips, your mind inescapably went back to yesterday's scene. Could you get that memory out of your mind and off your lips? Or would you be doomed to replay it over and over again?

Did you really want to put it out of your mind, or did the novelty of it frighten you, despite your growing desire to hold on to it and ask for more?

Your lips kissed the rim of your cup in search of a trace he'd left in your mind, wishing you could find it again and again, to have his eyes burning like two suns letting your heart tan.

This thought evaporated, however, when Garen entered the hotel restaurant. He was wearing jogging bottoms, a hooded sweatshirt with the zip open over a white t-shirt.

He didn't fail to notice you, and with good reason - you were the only person in the room. He exchanged a glance with you before approaching, your gaze returning to the table.

A small knot formed in your throat, and you grabbed your cup to bring it to your lips and hope to drown the sensation.

He sat down opposite you, forearm on the table as he watched you. He sat in silence for a long moment, the two of you staying like that for a bit until he broke the silence.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You chuckled, regretting the way your mouth stretched into a smile as the wound on your lower lip reopened and you drowned it in coffee.

"About the way I almost punched your friend to death yesterday?" you questioned as your tired eyes met his. "That's a thorny conversation subject for such a calm morning."

He shrugged, crossing his arms on the white tablecloth. "I was going to ask more about the reason why you're up so early."

"Is waking up early illegal in Demacia?"

His eyes found the street, empty except for the few passers-by heading to work early. "I don't know many people who get up early without any particular activity for pure pleasure."

You looked at him for a moment. "Is that why you're up early?"

His eyes met yours again. "Among other things."

There was silence once more. But there was no pressure, no expectation that you'd say anything, just the silence of company.

Both your hands were around your cup, your thumb tracing where your lip had been.

"I..." you began tentatively. "I feel terrible." You admitted the words without looking away from your cup. "I didn't exactly have the most..." you inhaled heavily, "loving upbringing, and-" you shrugged, "I should never have fought with her. I feel like I regressed to an animal state in two seconds, like I couldn't control myself when I should have."

"You were angry," he said simply, "it's normal to lose your temper."

You sighed. "It was an overreaction."

"And she's the one who pushed you over the edge," Garen remarked, "and brought out a legitimate anger that seemed to have been buried inside you for a long, long time." He leaned slightly towards you, his eyes on you even though you didn't dare meet them yet. "She revealed personal information to everyone that you probably didn't want to divulge, and she did it in order to humiliate you. Not to mention the fact that she started spreading rumours to discredit you."

Just thinking about it made your muscles itch like nettles as you remembered your kneeling position in front of her, her pretentiousness. 

"I wish I didn't have to get rid of that anger like that."

"Better out than in," Garen said.

You were finally meeting his eyes. "I'm not sure that getting rid of this violence in this way is the solution."

"Well, that I concede," he confirmed. "But I don't think it's such an overreaction. You both had your reasons. The parameters of your upbringing came into play, as did hers. She had her honour to save."

"But I had nothing to save, I did it out of anger and because I could."

"And anyone in your place could very well have done the same."

"You literally had to pull me off her," you sighed, "who knows how far it might have gone."

"But that's as far as it went, thankfully," he smiled at you. "You can't get stuck in this eternal 'what if' mentality if it's holding you back."

There was truth in his words, and you couldn't deny it. The guilt of having let yourself get carried away gripped you, but you tried to lighten the balance by thinking back to what he was saying. 

Fiora had come looking for you herself after all, asking - no, ordering a fight with you and pushing you into it until you gave her what she had wanted. But what about the consequences?

Your eyes found your reflection in the coffee of your cup.

"My friends saw me," you began tentatively. "I'm scared that-" your throat knotted slightly and you cleared it, hoping to chase away the sorrow that was trying to spread through it, "that they'll see me differently, that in their eyes I'll be just that and nothing else."

"Viktor and Jayce, right?" he checked.

You nodded, your hand gripping the handle of your mug a little tighter as the terrible thought crossed your mind for a moment that Sky might have seen this.

"They came to see me after the incident," he revealed, "they seemed more concerned about your condition than Fiora's."

A warm stone dropped into your stomach. Worried? Jayce, you might have expected it, but the shock that flooded Viktor's face made you think it would be impossible for him to feel anything other than incomprehension.

"Don't lie to me to try and cheer me up," you chuckled nervously.

"Me? Lie?" he smiled. "Do you really think my Demacian soul spends all its time making up charades and lies just to flatter your ego?"

You relaxed your shoulders. "Got a point."

"I was with Viktor last night," he continued. "I gather he's not really the chatty type, we've barely spoken since we arrived, but last night he seemed more worried, a bit more talkative."

"Viktor? Worried and chatty? Are you sure we're talking about the same person?’

"He was asking me questions, wondering if I'd seen you later in the day, if I'd managed to find you."

"Found me?" you repeated.

"After you left, I looked for you a bit," he admitted. "But I soon realised that company probably wasn't what you were looking for, so I decided to wait. I was just going to go looking for you again if you didn't come back by nightfall."

"I didn't know you had tracking skills," your lips pressed into an inverted smile.

"I'm not fond of letting someone venture out at night into a city they barely know," he pointed out, a sneer stretching one of his lips to the side, "so yes, any means would be good to find you."

"Even a young woman who knows her way around a punch?" you questioned.

He tilted his head to one side. "If someone came across you with a staff or another sword, I've got enough memories of yesterday's little session to give me an idea of how you'd cope."

You chuckled, finishing the rest of your coffee and avoiding scratching your chin where the tip of his quarterstaff had resided. "I can never do anything right, can I?"

"I'm sure you're not too bad at jogging," he rose from his bench, taking your plate and cutlery in hand, "what do you say?"

"You want me to go jogging, with you?" you questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"Tell me if you see anybody else in this room apart from the two of us," he said before leaving to clear away your things.

You stood up, taking your cup in hand and following him. "Maybe you were asking a magical third individual in the streets."

“So that's a no?” he questioned, turning to you once the silverware had been put down.

"That's a 'I don't jog often, so please be kind as I'll try to keep up with you'," you replied, setting your mug down with the rest of your finished meal.

He chuckled. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

And you did, partly. 

He took you outside and started jogging with you. You didn't really have the time or the inclination to go jogging in the mornings in Piltover, especially these days when you'd been working yourself to death.

But running in a setting you'd only recently discovered wasn't so bad. Like Piltover and many other towns, Demacia had a different atmosphere at night and during the day. 

Garen took you around his usual route, showing you places that were not shown to tourists but were well worth a visit. From florists who had just opened their shops and were perfuming the air, to restaurants serving the previous day's leftovers and soups for stray cats and dogs, to little fountains hidden in the middle of cobbled courtyards from whose springs you drank.

You found it hard to keep up sometimes, but Garen was patient, letting you take as many breaks as you needed. He found himself teasing you. "I thought you could keep up."

"I don't do this every morning like you," you breathed, recovering from one of your side stitches as you resumed your pace.

He laughed, and so did you, gradually waking up the city with your mutual runs. There was something liberating about it, because for once in your life you weren't running to get away but to move forward. You were letting go of your tensions, freeing yourself from the weight of worries for which you were only partly to blame.

The ivory streets were bathed in the warm orange sunlight as you made your way back to the hotel. You almost regretted having taken a bath already, feeling guilty for using the hotel water. But the bill wasn't on you, and knowing you'd have the chance to shower again when you got home made you feel better.

"Take your shower," he breathed as you both reached your respective doors, "I'm gonna take a look at your cheek afterwards."

You almost forgot about the bruises spreading across your face. Fiora hadn't hit you too hard - not as hard as you - but it was still enough to leave marks and nail cuts on your skin.

"I can take care of it," you confirmed.

"Judging by the way you treat them, I doubt it," Garen laughed before knocking on the door to enter.

Viktor was probably still asleep, it was early, but Garen still had the decency to knock just in case.

You went back to your room, not having to worry about that matter from lack of roommate. You took off your sweaty clothes, and hoped very much that a washing machine would be put in order during the week. You had brought enough spare clothes just in case, but you could never be sure.

After your shower was over, you opened the door to your bedroom so that Garen could come in as soon as he was finished without worrying about knocking. His hair still dripping with water, he stepped out of his room.

It didn't seem to be plunged into darkness, and you deduced that Viktor was probably already awake.

Garen came in with a first aid kit, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"You carry that around in your luggage all the time?"

He smiled before sitting down on your bed with you. ‘You never know the kind of trouble you might get into along the way. Besides, I train almost every morning. If you only knew the blows Fiora can land with those damned training swords of hers."

You smiled as you listened to him open his kit and look for compresses and disinfectant. "I will lend you some of this for you to properly take care of this, this way you can do this yourself if it ever happens again on the trip, which hopefully, won't."

He took out some objects and placed them on your bed while he went looking for what was needed, a small pot with a golden lid intriguing you.

"What's this?" you asked, pointing at it.

His eyes drifted over the object, taking it in his hand and bringing it up to his head like a medal.

"This is the miracle balm," he began before holding it out to you, "it has saved me many times."

You took it in your palm, turning it between your fingers to observe it before uncorking it. It was a dark ointment, and you brought it to your nose. The smell was strong, and you put it away immediately. You recognised the scent, certain fresh, strong notes taking you far back in time.

"For knots under the skin, tired muscles, and other aches and pains - it's my saviour," Garen explained as he prepared a cotton ball, soaking it in alcohol. "C'mere."

You moved a little closer to him, your cross-legged knees almost touching his thigh. He brought his index finger under your chin, gently guiding your head to the side to get a better view of the damage left on your face.

You could see his eyebrows furrow in your peripheral vision, the thumb of his free hand coming to rest on the swollen skin of your cheek and pressing lightly.

You hissed, the pain spreading down the side of your face.

"Sorry," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your swollen skin gently like a silent apology, "I was going to ask if it hurts but I guess I have my answer."

He pressed the cotton ball between his fingers, bringing it gently to your cheekbone. Your eye near the wounds crinkled under the tingle. It was unpleasant, but not painful. He barely pressed the cotton against your skin, taking care that, despite his imposing musculature, he didn't let it define him in every way and thus reduce his gentleness to nothing.

"Where did you get it, the balm?" you questioned, your eyes resting on a point in the void while his remained riveted on your cheek.

"We have enough shops stocked with balms and other herbal elixirs here that the majority of Demacia's athletes all have one pot of it. I'll take you there on a market visit, which shouldn't be long now."

"There's one scheduled for this very afternoon," you confirmed as he changed his focus to your face, moving up to your temple.

"Well then," he smiled, taking a second cotton ball to soak, "I'll take you there."

His index finger still under your chin pulled you back to face him, his eyes settling on your lips.

You had a nasty cut, probably from an accidental bite during the fight or a scratch from Fiora. Either way, it wasn't pleasant.

"That might sting a bit more," he warned as he pressed the cotton against your lip.

The previously forgettable tingle was now impossible to ignore and searing. You recoiled at the sensation, but Garen's index finger under your chin was joined by his thumb to hold you in place firmly, preventing you from any escape.

"It'll be over soon," he promised, repeatedly pressing the cotton against your skin.

You clenched your fists, your eyes drifting to the corridor you could see from your bed. A figure stood there, your heart dropping into your stomach as the pain of the alcohol was quickly forgotten.

Viktor.

There, standing impassively still, he watched the scene. Your eyes met his and you felt very small.

His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he hadn't had much sleep the night before, and his dark circles seemed to bring out the amber in his eyes. You couldn't make out his expression, but it was definitely one of frustration. 

You lowered your eyes slightly as Garen removed the cotton wool from your lip, not feeling up to meeting his gaze. The weight of it seemed heavy, but you couldn't work out why. He must have been angry, or perhaps disappointed? Or even disgusted, by you.

"Oh, Viktor," Garen greeted as he began to put his things away naturally, "have you taken your breakfast yet?"

You looked up at him, hoping your eyes wouldn't cloud over with tears as all your shame rose in your throat. He parted his lips, and you wondered what he was about to say or answer. The whole tone of his voice would show where your friendship lay, and your heart was pounding just at the terrible expectation he was imposing on you.

"Come on, come on! Let's all gather together please," you heard Heimerdinger say in the distance, “I'm going to announce today's programme.”

You held your breath as Garen stood up: "Let's get going before there's no breakfast to eat anymore, I'm starving."

And so Garen took Viktor with him, and your breath caught and released as you inhaled violently.

The idea of Viktor hating you before was not a problem. You could have gone for days without worrying about it. Now it was a waking nightmare that was haunting you terribly.

You reached over and closed the door for a moment, taking advantage of this small moment to take your Tarot deck from your suitcase and draw a card for the day, hoping that it would help you.

And so the Eight of Wands fell. 

Intentions are sent. Energy is in motion. Intentions are powerful and this card is an illustration of action in motion.

Although you were hoping for quick answers, you felt stressed, but continued your rapid reading of the booklet.

What's done can't be undone. The send button has been pressed and the letter has been sent. The spell is cast. The words and incantations have been spoken. Although you cannot undo what is done, you can pause, wait and see what the ramifications are. The energy is strong and effective. Let the universe work its magic. Do not try to control what has been sent. The situation is beyond your control for now. Be patient and you'll get results.

So you were asked... to wait? To be patient and see what would come your way? Of all the answers you could have hoped for, this was probably the last one on your list.

Heimerdinger had explained how the afternoon would unfold. First of all, you would visit one of Demacia's great museums, to learn about their art and history. Of course, you would have to fill in a form with all sorts of information and return it at the end of the day. After this little excursion, you could wander freely around Demacia.

Thus, you found yourself in one of the long corridors with its glass ceiling of the great Demacian museum. The students' shoes echoed against the black and white chequered floor as Heimerdinger gave a final reminder of the instructions.

You stood slightly back, watching a few statues and trying not to drift your gaze to the back of Viktor's head incessantly. What's he thinking?

You were at least hoping that the card would be right, that your answers would come quickly, that the wait would be short, and that the revelation wouldn't destroy you. And if Viktor decided to cut you off, what would you do?

How would you recover from the loss? You didn't have a very wide circle of friends, and this event could prove to be the end of all friendships with Viktor, Jayce and Sky.

Would Sky refuse to be your flatmate from now on? Would she move out because she couldn't spend another moment in the same room as you? Would Jayce stop coming to the café and shower you with his enthusiasm?

Your life would return to a profound emptiness, and you didn't know if you were capable of returning to it so abruptly. Of course, you still had Eris, but you saw her too little.

When had you started to feel comfortable with the idea of having friends like that? When did you allow yourself to trust them? to like them?

Heimerdinger finished his speech, and the students dispersed, as did you. You needed to get away from it all for a while, to try and take your mind off things by doing the only thing you knew how to do well: work.

You played nervously with your pencil, tapping its eraser against the few sheets you had to fill in, while your eyes absent-mindedly studied a white stone statue of yet another legendary fighter whose name meant little to you.

You were immersed in your thoughts, in the multiple possibilities that rushed into your mind to take the microphone and shout out their merits.

"I didn't see you yesterday during our afternoon lesson."

You lowered your eyes to your right, Heimerdinger standing up straight as he watched the statue by your side.

You sighed, turning in front of the latter's sign to jot it down in a corner of your paper. "Good morning to you too, Professor."

"I assume your absence was due to the incident that took place yesterday's morning?" he asked, and you sensed in your peripheral vision that he was looking towards you.

You turned to face him, his eyes widening slightly at the extent of the damage before you spoke. "I wonder what brought you to this conclusion."

You couldn't help using sarcasm, no doubt to play down the situation, and perhaps to try and put some distance between you and the freshness of these events. He seemed to watch you for a moment, his curious little eyes observing the tint the blows had left on your cheek.

"My my, quite an imposing mark. I didn't know you were so, um," he pouted thoughtfully, one of his hands rising into the air to make circular motions as if he were shuffling a keyring of words he was looking for the right key to, 'energetic'.”

You chuckled slightly, lowering your eyes to your paper. "I hope this excess of energy won't get me into any troubles regarding the Academy."

You suspected that this conversation was primarily about that, and although you tried not to let it go negative, you couldn't help the nagging anxiety in your stomach.

"To the Academy?" repeated Heimerdinger, as if surprised by the idea. "No, you have actually made more of a significantly positive impression."

Your shoulders settled between anxiety and relief, frowning as you looked back up at him. "Positive?"

"From what the students have been nattering about, and what has been brought back to me, it seems that you slightly altered the Piltover Academy popularity towards the Demacian through a performance that has tipped the scale on our side," he explained as his index finger and thumb pinched the air. "They were surprised anyone from our little group could keep up in any affray against such trained students." He chirped as he rocked for a moment on his heels, his arms linking behind his back. "I have to say that I myself am quite impressed."

You felt very light, as if a vulture that had hitherto pressed its talons on your shoulders had just flown away out of disinterest in the prey that you were. So you were being watched not as a monster but as... a champion?

You were having trouble digesting the information. Had you become so obsessed with the harm you had caused that you locked yourself into an mentality in which you were only at fault? 

Did your friends feel the same way? Did Jayce, Sky and Viktor think the same as Heimerdinger?

"Impressed?" you repeated, as if to check that it wasn't a joke. "By what I did?"

"Absolutely," the yorddle nodded. "Now, I wasn't present and I would probably not have been in the opportunity had risen as I am not much of an advocate for the sweat of physical conflict, but I have to confess that through this opposition, you have brought a certain honour to the Academy." He turned to you, giving you a proud smile. "Well done!"

Were you dreaming? It must have been, wasn't it? But you'd never had such a beautiful dream, and given what had happened you weren't expecting to for a long time.

You blinked a few times, trying to digest this information. You weren't going to be expelled, or punished for what you'd done, and you were learning that some students might even have some respect for you as a result?

"I..." you searched for your words, the keychain of words passing in turn without your nervous fingers being able to find the perfect key. So you settled on a passe-partout that sincerely reflected your thoughts. "Thank you."

"No need for any gratitude," informed Heimerdinger, shaking his head, "all I ask is that I hope to see you in class. The taste of glory is exquisite, but I do not wish it to replace your diligence."

You nodded quickly. "Of course, Professor."

"Well," he smiled, "I'll leave you to your work from now on. I haven't finished exploring the immensity of this place yet."

And with that, he left, and you blew all the air out of your lungs, placing your hand on your chest then. You couldn't believe it, all the worries you'd imagined were crumbling away from your skin like dirt being washed away.

A nervous chuckle went up your throat and you smothered it with your palm over your lips, wincing slightly as the cut on it opened slightly and stung.

You had to pull yourself together. Sure, you'd escaped one problem, but another still remained - your friends. Should you go and find them and talk to them? Or would they come on their own?

You'd only had to move to another showroom to meet Sky and Jayce's eyes, your flatmate's face lighting up with shock as she ran to you and hugged you tightly, and you returned the embrace. Your whole body relaxed, and if you weren't in public you'd probably have been crying.

"You scared the hell out of me," you managed to decipher as her head was buried in your shoulder before she suddenly straightened up and cupped your face, watching your wounds with a frown. "What a viper."

"You should see her," you grinned, the tingle on your lip no longer mattering to you.

"I have seen her," Sky assured you, raising her eyebrows and smiling, "Jayce and Viktor told me everything."

"Oh yeah?" you questioned as your gaze drifted to Jayce who was coming towards you. His face was a mixture of joy and concern, and it hurt to see him like that.

"Mhm!" confirmed Sky as Jayce finally came towards you. "That she kept testing you until you agreed to a fight and brought her back to her place," she turned to him, "they kept saying you looked really, really cool."

Jayce nodded beside her, seeming to restrain himself from saying or doing anything.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, was he scared of you? 

"No Jayce hug?" you tried, teasing him.

He huffed, pained like a puppy waiting for a treat. "I don't want to hurt you by squeezing too tight. You already got wounds, I don't want to make it worse.’

Despite his imposing stature, you had always noticed how Jayce seemed to deliberately try to appear small or less imposing. Whether it was putting his shoulders backwards when his hands were behind his back, or crossing them when he was thinking, he always tried not to spread himself and to appear less big than he actually was.

You smiled softly. "I don't care."

He sighed in relief, pulling you into a hug and it felt so soothing. His big arms encircled you in a way that promised you everything would be okay no matter what, and that he'd always be there whatever happened.

"Vik's been wanting to talk to you," he whispered, so that only you could hear him.

The news made your cheeks flush with warmth, your heart pounding in your chest as you patted his back gently and he straightened up away from you.

"I didn't know you were into boxing," Jayce remarked deeply intrigued and back to his usual curiosity, "why did you never tell us that?"

You shrugged. "I didn't see a reason to."

"Do you know how expensive boxing classes are in Piltover?" quipped Jayce. "I had tried it once but never came back to it just because of the price."

He nodded, and a small silence settled between the three of you. There were so many things left unsaid, so many desires to talk that you couldn't quite grasp and start.

"Why didn't you come to us?" questioned Sky at last, breaking the silence. "We were worried.’

You sighed softly, lowering your eyes. You'd left them in the dark, deliberately distancing yourself from them by assuming ideas that could have been avoided by discussing it with them and setting the record straight.

"I..." you clutched your pen in your hand, trying your hardest not to let your voice crack, "I thought you guys wouldn't want to associate with someone that did that. So... yeah. I'm sorry."

Sky and Jayce's eyes softened, and your shame and guilt at having walked away from them weighed in your stomach heavier than ever.

"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of us," Sky smiled, putting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

You smiled back. Every misfortune that had haunted you over the last twenty-four hours was being resolved one by one, naturally, and now there was only one person left to balance it all.

"Have you done the part on the origin of the magical wars yet?" questioned Jayce as if nothing had happened, pointing to your index card. "You definitely have to check it out," he pulled out his map of the museum, pointing to the few rooms that contained the exhibition in question, "it's over there."

The message was simple: you'll find him there.

"Good,’ you nodded, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

The three of you then confirmed that you would meet up after the visit so that you could explore the Demacian markets together, and you set off in the direction of the indicated exhibition.

Your heart was pounding. Your anxiety was gradually diluted and replaced by immense relief. Did Viktor share their opinions too? What would his reaction be? You dreaded it as much as you longed for it.

When had he become such a central part of your life? And why did you feel so affected by every move and idea he might have had about you?

You reached the area in question, completely empty. Given the Demacians' disdain for the origin of magic and their bitterness towards it, you weren't much surprised.

It was a large room with an open side from which you had just come, each of its corners seeming to shelter small rooms with narrower entrances acting as mini corridors of separation. You tried to walk along the left-hand wall and into the corridor leading to the first room. When you reached the end of the small hallway, you froze as a voice you recognised approached.

"Vikkie?" Fiora was calling.

You turned, fearing that she might see you, and took a few steps back.

You stifled a small scream as what appeared to be a thin, curved bar pressed against your stomach and pulled you back and then to the side as a hand took hold of your arm. Your back met the wall and your breath caught as Viktor's eyes met yours and he pressed his index finger to his own lips to urge you to remain silent, the knob of his cane hovering near your waist as his hand gripped your hip.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as the sudden stress faded from your tense muscles and another feeling took over. The two of you were close, Viktor cocking his head and leaving you to watch the angle of his jaw as he waited for the area to be cleared of her presence.

The warmth of his hand on your hip cut through the fabric of your clothes, and you found yourself wanting to press yourself against it.

What was this sensation? Why did this position make you feel all warm and fuzzy in your stomach? Why was your heart pounding in your chest now that the stress was over?

In the distance, you could hear Fiora sigh. "Mais quelle anguille," she sighed in her native tongue as the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance and Viktor let out his held breath.

He pressed his forehead to the wall against which you were standing, his lips to the level of your ear. "Hit her in the jaw next time, Miss," the nickname mixed with his low voice made your cheeks flush. "This way maybe I can escape her constant need for useless conversation."

You couldn't help laughing. "I'll note that for next time, Vikkie."

You felt him squeeze his hand lightly on your hip as he gave you a sound that was a mixture of grumble, sigh and laugh before straightening up.

His amber eyes found yours, and your heart leapt. You hoped it would calm down, but it seemed to you at the time that this was profoundly impossible.

"For once I would rather you call me any witty nickname you could have than this," he smiled.

"Mm," you seemed to be falsely thinking about it without taking your eyes off him, "I'll consider thinking about it."

He smiled, his eyes drifting from yours to rest on your cheekbone and your cheek before finishing on your lips. 

You swallowed silently as his eyes rested on it in a strange way.

‘Does it hurt...?’ he asked, his eyes finally returning to yours, a dark light flashing through his gaze.

You shook your head. "No."

He nodded gently. "Good."

His eyes, which this morning had been stern, were now more tender. He seemed to become aware of your closeness, his glance settling on his hand still on your waist.

He took a step back, and his absence from you and his hand on your hip disheartened you more than you thought it would. 

"Sorry for this measure," he said, tapping two fingers on his cane, "I had to make sure she wouldn't see either of us nor hear anything."

A warmth spread across the back of your neck at the memory of how he'd grabbed you and pulled you towards him, and you tried to shake away the thought. "It's okay," you reassured, "I was actually looking for you, too."

"And you were first at it, once again," he smiled, nodding. "I'm glad it's you that found me before her."

"I agree," you confirmed with a thin smile.

A moment of hesitation passed, an additional silence of expectation that twisted your throat as you searched for your words. You didn't sense any judgement on his part, or that he wanted to press you for answers.

"I..." you began, inhaling, shifting your gaze from his to one of the few paintings on the walls of the small room, "I'm sorry, that you had to see me this way. ”Your eyes returned to his. "I don't know how I must have looked to you and," you breathed, "I regret it."

He gazed at you for a moment, frowning as his eyes returned to where Fiora knuckles had had the misfortune to meet your face.

"Why are you apologising?" he asked.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" he chuckled, one corner of his lips rising a little higher than the other and raising his mole. "No, I don't think mad would be the term. Surprise, more like it."

"That I almost sent this girl to the hospital?" 

"That despite all I seem to learn about you, I still want to know more."

A warmth spread through your chest.

He persisted, despite everything. He'd seen the vilest, most unbearable and stubborn parts of you, he'd seen you fight, and yet he stayed.

"Are you sure?" you asked. "I think I may have broken the second clause about helping each other and the sixth about honesty through this."

He looked surprised that you remembered so perfectly of the clauses' number, but he just shrugged. "If it is about telling me everything on your reasons for your reaction, I'm not hurried." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on you. "I am patient, I can wait."

What had you done to deserve this? So much understanding, support and solidarity? You weren't used to it.

You considered telling him, about your past, about everything right here and there, but a thought occurred to you. If Fiora knew all the things she'd told you about your past, it was probably through him. You hesitated to ask him, parting your lips to inquire.

"And right here, in this very room, the birth of magical conflict," exclaimed the voice of a guide leading a group of tourists into the great hall.

You sighed, the little peace you had with Viktor vanishing into thin air.

"I guess we'll have to continue this conversation another time, Miss," he confirmed, "for the moment, we need to finish this damned file."

You returned to your little group like nothing had ever happened, filling in the answer boxes provided by Heimerdinger one by one. And when the visit was over, everyone returned to the hotel to get ready to visit the market.

Viktor left you all to take a nap, all that walking had made him tired. Garen, not wishing to intrude on this time of emotional reunion with your friends, provided you with a list of addresses and names of shops that might interest you.

And so Jayce, Sky and yourself wandered through the eccentric markets of Demacia. From wacky plant shops to armouries, you kept stopping and gawking. Colours and smells were all mingling together in this odd symphony that somehow wasn't too overwhelming

Each street was an exciting new discovery full of new things to uncover. You followed some of the names of the shops Garen had given you, taking the opportunity to get hold of his famous balm.

There was something strangely comforting about it, something familiar, and it made you feel good to have it close to you.

After a delicious snack of Demacian pastries and further visits to the length and breadth of the market, the three of you returned to the hotel with small bags of souvenirs and tired legs. 

The aches and pains from jogging and the physical effort of the previous day's battle were beginning to take their toll, and you couldn't wait to go home and get some rest.

When you inserted the key to your room to enter, however, you found it already open. You frowned, pushing the door open and freezing as Fiora stood in the room.

She turned towards you, and you could see the rest of the damage you had caused. She probably had a doctor attached to her family, and they'd really helped her out. She had a bandage on her nose, her cheeks and cheekbones had deflated, but despite the ice cubes she'd had to put on her skin to soften them, there were still some purplish marks.

My marks, you thought, I made them, but I'm not proud of them.

Her eyes rested on you, annoyed. She looked around the room for a moment.

"Not too bad for a bedroom," she nodded, "too bad it's for two."

You sighed. She didn't seem to want to budge from her attitude, and you weren't going to play her game. You walked over to your bed, putting your shopping bag on the side of it.

"Why are you here, Fiora?" you asked simply, crossing your arms.

You preferred to get to the heart of the matter, beating around the bush was pointless and this day had shown you that perfectly.

She sighed heavily, walking up to your level and stopping at a respectable distance.

She put her weight on one of her hips, crossing her arms in turn. "I came here to apologise."

You frowned, doubting the veracity of this gesture. "Did Garen pay you to do this?"

"Pfft," she chuckled, "I wish I had been paid to do this."

"Did Madame Diane ask you to come here then?" you continued.

"Nope," she replied, emphasising the end of the word.

Had she really come to apologise of her own free will? It was almost doubtful. 

"So why are you coming here to apologise?" 

She sighed, her eyes drifting over her nails resting on her biceps. "I guess I feel, well, guilty."

She said the words as if she had to get rid of them, and you could feel the frustration building.

"How old are you?" you suddenly asked.

She seemed confused by the question, arching an eyebrow. "... Twenty four?"

“You're twenty four, you know what a word means, so what the hell took you?”

"I know, okay?" she grunted before taking a breath to calm herself. "Let's not start arguing, I didn't come here to nudge you to fight, just to get a conversation."

You straightened up, chewing the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. She was at least taking the first step towards remaining diplomatic, and you couldn't take that away from her, it was a good way of going about things.

You pointed your chin at her for a moment. "Why did I become your target?" you questioned. ‘You've been trying to set me aside since day one."

"No I have not," she said, frowning as her accent sounded stupid to you.

"You literally called me a rag."

"That's just because your sense of fashion is terrible," she explained, shrugging.

"See? You're doing it again," you remarked, unclasping your arms.

She sighed. "Well I guess if you had better clothes I wouldn't have said it ."

You chuckled. "This is a weird apology."

"Are you taking it or not?" Her tongue clicked against her teeth like a tired whip.

"I'll take it once I know why you wanted to put me aside."

"Because your friend Viktor is cute," she replied, shaking her head as an obvious smile spread across her lips, though it faded as her eyes rolled back into their sockets, "but the more I speak to him the more boring he gets."

You recoiled. "So you spat on me... because of a guy?"

"Not just any guy," she giggled, "he has the attitude of a prince."

Yes, he does, you thought. You remembered how he looked at the masquerade, all dressed in rich velvet and dark fabrics lined with goldened jewelry. And his coat, which you had the opportunity to wear, you couldn't forget it, couldn't forget his smell that had covered you while you walked your way back home. He had the chivalrous attitude of the Knight of Pentacles, and you couldn't deny that the role suited him perfectly.

Your eyes drifted off into space just thinking about it. "I guess you could say that."

"What do you mean “I guess”?" questioned Fiora, almost outraged. 

Your cheeks heated as you tried to get back to normal, to pull yourself together and not think about it any more than that.

"Yeah I mean, I guess you're right?"

"Wait," she frowned, her head turning slightly to the side as her eyes squinted at you, "do you have something for him?"

The back of your neck caught fire, your eyes widening as your first instinct was to deny.

"What?" you laughed. "No."

She brought her hand up to her mouth to cover it for a moment as she looked at you with huge eyes, murmuring her words in disbelief. "You have a crush on him."

"This is nonsense," you cleared your throat as you remembered the pressure of his hand against your hip, bringing your own palm to the spot to regain your balance, "of course I don't."

"So that's why you were pissed about the fact I was so close to him," Fiora continued realising to herself.

"Absolutely not!" you countered.

She started walking towards the door though. "So if I go in the other room and tell him you don't have a crush on him you won't have any problem with it-"

But you hadn't given her time to reach the handle, standing in front of the door and blocking it with your hand and entire body. You reacted instinctively to this, but why? 

"Don't," you whispered, "I don't have feelings for him."

She smiled at you for a moment, looking at you like you were the most ridiculous little thing she had ever seen in her life. "Then why are you reacting this way?’

You were asking yourself the same question on this very moment. Why did you start looking for him in every room? Why did you want his attention? Why did your body and your thoughts react this way when you found yourself near him?

"He's my friend," you mumbled, "I... respect him."

She giggled. "And you think that you loving him would be a form of disrespect to him?"

The truth of that sentence terrified you: could you honour him? Would having feelings for him be ridiculous considering how you were not worthy of deserving him?

"No, I told you I-"

"Fine!" Fiora's arms flew up in the air. "Gosh, you're stubborn."

You straightened up, looking at her for a moment as she exchanged a glance with you.

"So," she continued, "we bury the hatchet?"

You considered her for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons. There were still four days to spend here, so you might as well spend them amicably. What's more, you weren't looking for a quarrel, so there was no reason to refuse this offer especially if it came from her.

"Alright," you nodded.

She followed your movement. "You fight pretty good by the way," she admitted, "I didn't think someone could hit that hard when looking like you."

You chuckled. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," she shrugged and nodded, "I thought you'd punch like a kid."

"And I thought you'd fight back better," you confirmed, "looks like we both got disappointed."

"If you hadn't taken such unrefined weaponry as your choice, maybe I would have been able to show you what an actual duel is like," she pointed out.

"I don't need weapons, and I didn't want to fight," you sighed.

"Why not?"

You shrugged as you moved forward to sit on your bed, fatigue gripping your limbs tightly. "Because I didn't need to."

"What is it with you Pilties," Fiora questioned, "you're boring."

"You're the bored girl trying to get everything because no one ever told you no," you remarked. 

A muscle tightened near her eye, as it had before the duel you'd had had yesterday and things turned sour, and you noticed that it was perhaps time for Fiora to give you a better excuse than an attraction to a man to justify her actions towards you.

“It destabilizes you, doesn't it?” You planted your hands on either side of you, leaning back slightly. “That a stranger, coming onto your ground, destroys that reality you’ve built up for yourself brick by brick without being able to do anything about it.”

She shifted her weight on her leg as she listened to you, and you knew you'd hit the nail on the head - because you'd been through this same exact situation only a few months ago.

“Well I'm going to tell you something. Simple, clear, which will hopefully be instantly integrated in that brain of yours,” you stared into her eyes. “People don't owe you anything.”

Fiora looked at you, her lips slightly parted.

“I don't owe you my politeness, I don't owe you my knee to be bowed at your coronation, and above all, I don't owe you my respect.”

A small silence settled in the air, until Fiora chuckled and smiled.

“I like you better than I thought I would.”

You straightened up, confused. You expected her to engage in another verbal joust, to send you back what you had just offered her, or to leave by slamming the door, but not to this. 

“You do?”

She approached the foot of your bed. “Do you know how many people ever told me what you just told me, Piltie girl?”

You shook your head, obviously not knowing the answer. She said nothing at the moment, simply raised her index finger in the air.

"One," she indicated as she lowered her perfectly manicured fingernail to point to you.

“Garen never told you that?” you questioned, finding it hard to believe that he didn't do the same.

She rolled her eyes. “He doesn't count. But anyway," she inhaled, "you're right. My honor was on the line of a blade I wanted to force to my will.” Her arms crossed over her chest again. “I don't want my reputation to hold on to the pillars of my family name, which has led me to...” her eyes passed over your bruises, “go low.”

“Exposing my personal information for everyone outside and trying to humiliate me is-”

“Yes I know!" Fiora cut off, annoyed. “I was scared, okay? You came here and the idea of having a stupid Piltie to show around all week wasn't the greatest for an ideal trip.” 

Her truth was beginning to come out, and you were listening to her as she had listened to you. She inhaled, trying not to let herself be overwhelmed by her emotions.

“But then you held up to me, and I thought I could feel everything crack and... I went too far. So," her eyes wore their sincerity, "I'm sorry, really.”

You understood her. You knew exactly how she could feel, and you weren't about to put her down about it.

“I went too far too,“ you admitted, "sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?"questioned Fiora. “I pushed you to do this.”

“I made your face redder than your hair streaks with my fists and you wonder why I'm apologizing?”

She shook her head, and you both sighed. And to say that all this could have been avoided if your egos had been put aside.

“At least” she resumed, pouting, "now I'm matching with my hair, that's twice more fashion style than you have.”

You couldn't help but smile, and let it evolve into a little laugh as Fiora followed you into the latter. She could be funny, after all.

“So” she resumed "we're cool?”

You nodded, smiling gently at her. “We're cool.”

“Cool," she sighed, walking over to the bedroom door to open it. "Oh also," she turned to you "did you make yourself some enemies in your classmates?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Sort of, I guess. Why?”

“That Tyler guy, if I were you I'd keep him under a close eye” she was pinching the door in her hand, ready to get out. “He's the one that came to tell me everything I learned about you. He came to me the first night to tell me about all of that.”

And with that, she left, closing the door and leaving behind a deafening anger.

You should have expected it. How could you have been so stupid?

You were thinking about what Jayce had said at the beginning of the trip, about how you were probably related to the bruises Tyler himself had received.

You were starting to realise how the plotting of this had gone. If he couldn't manage to get you the treatment he was getting from both you and his family, then he would find someone who would have done it for him. 

Did he insinuate to Fiora that she had to fight with you? Had he managed to push her to a duel against you in the euphoria of being able to see you lose to a renowned duelist like her?

You let yourself fall on your bed, too tired to get any more upset, but not allowing yourself to forget this under any pretext.

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[juricel]

a/n: a request but i may or may not have accidentally posted the draft and deleted it in panic, im so sorry to the original requester if you see this, please correct me if i'm wrong with something! I didn't properly memorize the phrasing of the ask.

original ask: "may i request yan!shadow milk cookie with an immortal!f/o who keeps dying to him but the more they die they grow resilient and fight back?"

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x immortal! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mild gore, murder, body horror, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, body horror, emotional abuse, physical abuse, violence, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ shadow milk cookie adores every single part of you; your face, your personality, your appearance, your voice, your habits, everything—but oh, one thing that he loves about you most is when you are dead inside, aching, petrified, and falling apart.

𖦁‎ he doesn't mean to be cruel, really! it was meant to be a silly little experiment, a test of your immortality upon learning you were unable to die out of pure curiosity. However, when he crumbled you, his sweet dear, apart, oh he witnessed true beauty; you were a sight beyond manevolent, a bewitching visage, a pulchritudinously splendous piece of art. he, knelt in a puddle of hot, sweet blood, aching smile pitted against aching smile, caress your ichor-stained skin oh so gently, smudging the crimson over your now turning pale flesh—you were ravishing, organs lay splayed, tears prickling through the corner of eyes, red branching out across the sclera of your eyes, bloodied, bruised, and beneath /his/ mercy... ah, it was the illustrious form of beauty. he doesn't mean to get addicted, but oh, the sight of you... slope of stomach inwards, hip bones protruding through thin skin unnaturally, diaphragm and ribs sticking sickenly, and each bone present like a mountain range on the plateau of your pectorals; the way your scars turn beautiful, thrumming pink, and fade dark into a luscious shade of near-blue when cold; the vibrancy of your blood as it trickles down your tainted flesh... he just couldn't get enough of it! the more he thought of it, the more he got giddy.

𖦁‎ surely, you wouldn't mind him trying it out once more, don't you? it's not like you have a choice regardless! not when you're tied up and confined within his clutches. with a hand caressing your cheeks, he whispers sweet nothings, thumb stroking the contour of your cheekbones as he digs in his nails into the rake of your skin; cutting, mangling, butchering, dismembering, and lacerating your body as if it were a doll made to be withered—mutilating until what remains were cadaver. oh, you were just beyond adorable, weren't you? how can he not be a little mean to you when you were so endearing like this? the sight of you like this overwhelms him with desire, oh, how he craved to tear you apart, to bite and scratch your neck until leisons form and crimson seeps, to claw his way through your dermis until you scream in agony, blood staining his fingertips; a sight only he, himeslf could witness and he would make sure of that.

𖦁‎ he promises to be kind, to be gentle as he bashes your legs in, but he just couldn't help it! oh, but it's fine, isn't it? it's not like you were gonna crumble away from it all eternally! so he doesn't understand. why must you rebel against him? can't you see that he was doing this in an overwhelming exasperation of love for you? or was it because it was painful? oh, no it wasn't! you're just overreacting. it doesn't hurt. don't get him mistaken! he adores watching you struggle, takes fulfillment seeing you defiant even but when you manage to escape his grasp? oh, that is when his anger escalates.

𖦁 he's sorry, so so sorry! really, he's sorry, he won't kill you anymore, he promises! just don't leave from his sight ever again, in soft murmurs and thinly veiled bitter words he would whisper, tracing his bloodied fingers against the curve of your jaw, kissing away your vulgar defiance as he holds your body as stiff as a clay, unmoving and unresponsive, eyes unfocused.

a/n: not quite proud of this one, i hope it's fine, however! i do think this one is much more darker than my previous work but then again, it's a yandere work so it's probably alright.

[bestruction]

His favorite positions

Summary: Just a few headcanons about his favorite sex positions with you because i'm a horny mf

Warnings:...Sex?

Missionary

Sasuke favored missionary because it allowed him...Many possibilities. Like with many people, it was the first position you two tried but eventually, the more you two had sex, the bolder he got.

He fucking loved the feeling of your legs around his waist, but what if he pushed your knee up to your chest? What if he puts your legs on his shoulders? Maybe he should place his hands on the inside of your thighs and keep you spread open for him...

This man is addicted to control for many reasons, which makes the idea of you lying down on the bed, just for him, ready to take anything he has to give you way too appealing. On top of that, he gets to watch you bite your lips, whimper his name, and melt as he fucks you just right and eye contact was something that felt deeply intimate and grounding to him.

Missionary allows him to hold your hands softly or pin them above your head. He could just switch it up depending on his mood.

Spooning

Lazy Sunday mornings were always a problem. The sun would shine through the curtains, telling him it was already time to get up. If he came back from a particularly long mission it'd be even worse because it means he needs to visit the Hokage's office to report, but how can he when you are sleeping so peacefully in his arms?

If he tried to call your name it would never work. So based on his experience as your boyfriend, he tried to get your attention by kissing your temples, and behind your ears. He swears it's always innocent at first. But the way these kisses quickly slide down your neck, leaving a warm trail on your skin, makes you doubt his intentions.

He loves spooning because in these moments all he has to do was stick his hands inside your pajama shorts to quickly push through your folds and find your clit. Your back pressed against his chest as your legs instantly opened more for him, giving him easier access to your pussy never failed to get a smirk out of him. He'd whisper "morning" in your ear with that husky voice that you loved, pressing down your bud of nerves to make you whimper his name.

Sasuke liked the gentle intimacy of spooning, how it allowed him to make you cum on his fingers, and still play with your nipples, how everything he had to do to fuck you right was pull down your shorts and pound you slowly until you are begging him to go faster. Definitely one of his favorites.

Against the Wall

I feel like at a certain point, there isn't a wall in the house that you haven't been pushed up against at least once. He is a very impulsive and impatient person and also loves physical touch. It's a way to express what he is feeling without having to use words, which he struggles with a lot. This all means if you two are fighting or you are annoying him a bit too much just because you like teasing him, you might end up getting dicked down.

The first time it happened you were teasing him a bit too much while you two organized the living room, you liked pushing his buttons to see how much you could get away with since he had a soft spot for you. It started with some silly joke you don't remember but when he told you to stop, you didn't and the next thing you knew was that you were being pressed against the wall with your knees shaking, trying to keep yourself upright. If it weren't for his hands on your hips you would have been on the floor in an instant, which is why he loves it.

Again: control. He loved knowing he could make you feel like this. Like a mess against the wall who can't even stop drooling because he keeps hitting that sweet spot inside of you each time, he shoves his dick in your poor pussy. Where's all the teasing now? Lost behind your glassy eyes.

Cowgirl

Sasuke appreciated this position because it allowed you to take control, which he secretly enjoyed more than he liked to admit. Watching you on top of him, hair freely around your face as you place your hands on his chest and do your best to accommodate his size always left him in awe for you. The way your breasts bounce each time you let your hips fall on his cock, how you let your head fall behind you each time his tip kisses deep inside of you making you smile at how good it feels. He had to hold himself back from not cumming way too fast every time he saw that naughty smile of yours. Plus, it gave him the chance to rest his hands on your hips and guide you gently (not so gently sometimes) if you say you are too tired because what do you mean you can't take it anymore? Of course, you can, you can do it for him, can't you?

[emsdevs]

The Return

Bear and Bug 🐻🐞

a/n: surprise!! kirby talked me into splitting this part up, so you all get one more part of the main conflict after this!! enjoy!!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Bear and Bug Masterlist

Three weeks had passed since you arrived at Cole’s place, and he’s been trying everything under the sun to get you to return to the lake house with him. Today, after getting out of bed, you find out he’s pulled out the big guns. When you walk into the living room, you’re met with not only Cole but also Trevor and Alex. Apparently, Cole had filled them in on the situation, and they changed their flights to Montreal to come help. 

“C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I know for a fact Jack misses you,” Trevor is currently trying to encourage you to come with them, your packed suitcase sitting beside him. At some point during the night, they had snuck into your room and packed your bags, leaving you with no “good” excuse not to go with them.

“You talked to him?” your head shoots toward Trevor, hope filling your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“...No,” he looks toward the ground as he speaks, “but! I know Jack, and I know he’s probably falling apart at the seams if you two haven’t talked in three weeks. You’re his person. He’s probably dying right now.”

“Oh, great. I’m killing my best friend! This is exactly what I was worried about when Quinn and I got together. He’s been having such a tough time, and I’ve made it a hundred times worse. I’ll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.”

“You’re right. She is being dramatic,” Alex whispers to Cole before stepping forward to try to comfort you. “Look, sweetheart, the only way to make this any better is to bite the bullet. I know you’re scared, but you can’t keep running away from it.”

You were silent for a moment, shocked by the wisdom from Alex. After gathering your thoughts, you spoke, “You’re right. Let me go be sure you all got everything, and then we can head out.”

“No way that worked,” Cole couldn’t believe their plan worked in their favor.

“Bro, when did you become a shrink?”

~~

The tension at the lake house was higher than ever. Ellen and Jim had given up on trying to help their sons work out their issues, so they drove back home for a while, letting the boys stew in their anger. The boys had done nothing except that. Quinn and Luke silently shared an alliance while Jack either ignored them completely or began picking fights. 

“Hope you two are ready to go running back to your precious Bug,” Jack told the other two boys as he walked to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“What do you mean?” Luke answered, sass written all over his question.

“Trev just texted me. He, Alex, and Cole just boarded their flight. With Bug.”

“She’s coming back?” Quinn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice. He didn’t care how Jack felt anymore. He was miserable, and he needed his Bug. 

“Don’t get all excited. That doesn’t mean she’s getting back together with you,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s coming back for you,” Luke doesn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice.

“She’s my best friend, Lukey. Of course, she’s coming back to get in my good graces.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at how you’ve been treating her, Jack! We’re all lucky she’s even coming back at all!” Quinn is angry now. You’ve probably been hurting more than he has for the past three weeks, and Jack is acting all high and mighty like you’ll come crawling back to him. As far as Quinn is concerned, you don’t need to come crawling back to anybody. If anything, the three of them owe you an apology.

“Of course, you’re sticking up for her! God, she has you wrapped around her finger! You’re so whipped you can’t see that she’s the problem here!”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know Quinn is right. You’ve been horrible to her, and she deserves an apology. From all of us, honestly. Jesus, I mean, she even put you’re feelings above her happiness. She and Quinn could have been so happy, but you were complaining about how horrible the NHL is every night, so her main concern was protecting you. Mind you, you are not one of the two people in that relationship, so the fact she took your feelings about it into account at all is a kind of grace that you obviously don’t deserve. Why don’t you get down from your high horse and think about everything Bug has done for you? Then, you can tell us if she’s the one that needs to apologize or not,” Luke doesn’t give Jack time to answer, walking off as soon as he finishes his speech. Quinn doesn’t hesitate in following, only giving Jack a sharp look before making his way to your room once again. He found Luke already there, so they sat on your bed together, putting on a movie and soon falling asleep.

Jack, now alone in the living room, takes the time to do as Luke said. He thought back to when he knew you’d be his best friend forever. You two had silently agreed to have separate friend groups at school, but when you saw Jack’s friends had left him alone one day at lunch, you left your friends to go sit with him. They stopped talking to you after that, but you were fine with it because you had Jack. He thought about everything you had sacrificed for him, even skipping out on joining an afterschool club because it would conflict with some of his game times. How many times had you put Jack first, even when you could’ve had something really good for you if you had put yourself first? He could think of at least one: Quinn. He’s a horrible best friend. 

Jack lost track of how long he sat there, losing himself in his thoughts that were slowly becoming more and more self-deprecating, but before he knew it, he heard the front door opening. Moments later, he jumps to his feet when he sees you walk into the living area.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.”

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @hockey43 @madebyhappymeals @ccomandercody @kirajessie @beenucks @iamspeed6

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[bussyyeukie]

an unhealthy obsession

stalker!konig x reader: sure this happens, but you never thought it'd be you, I mean, you didn't do anything...you didn't even talk to that many strangers, sure you were nice just not overly, and yeah you were attractive but not to the degree of being obsessed over, you didn't even have that much money for someone to obsess over! God why'd you always get the short end of the stick...

You were being haunted. You were sure of it. Maybe not by a ghost or demon (although you'd debated that), but by something.

As silly as it sounded, but your brain was more ok with that than the thought of someone stalking you. At this point you were more sick of it than scared, your clothes went missing just to turn up a week later smelling weird, your soaps and lotions would run out quicker than ever-and they were expensive. Your dirty glasses would wind up on the counter when you'd get back from work, new lips marks on them on-top of your old ones, especially if you'd worn lipstick. It would stop for a few months, or weeks at a time and just when you thought it was finally done for, it would start up again. One time after 5 months of nothing happening, you'd woken up and went to the bathroom, only to find it covered in piss. Like, covered, you had nearly moved at that point. Your window (which you'd close and lock at night) would be cracked when you woke up. The trees outside your window would insistently tap at the glass, and you'd come home sometimes to weird 'gifts' on your counters or in your fridge. One time you came home to a bottle of wine and a back of condoms on your living room table. You stayed at a friends house that night. Didn't even put your work bag down before you decided "nope, not staying here tonight. Not dealing with that."

You tried the police, but you didn't have any real evidence, and you hadn't seen the man (or ghost), had no idea who it could be, and you hadn't been physically attacked...yet. So they didn't do shit, only said to call them if it progressed. Which it did, and they still didn't help.

You'd even taken all the stickers off your car to try to make it less, recognizable. Not that it really helped, but, you didn't know that. Even if you got a whole new car it wouldn't help any.

The first time you met him was in the dead of winter when you'd stopped off at that grocery store for some cleaning supplies. There were odd stains in your clothes that would not come out, no matter how much you'd wash them.

The basket tucked in the crook of your arm pinched at your skin, even under the thick sweater and jacket you wore, weighed down with a bottle of bleach and some fabric cleaner-the spot treatment kind, and a bag of coffee grounds.

You adjusted it as you reached up on the shelf for a bottle of "stubborn stain remover". Seemed overkill but the stains were so common recently that you were willing to try anything. Even mixing chemicals. Normally you'd just throw the item out, but this was your all time favorite shirt, and you wanted to give it a fighting change.

Your basket was posing a challenge though, every time you'd reach up for the tall shelf the items would shift and knock around, pinching your further or just making it tough to hold the basket. You'd opted for setting it down next to your feet with a huff. Before looking back at your item, which you still found challenging to reach. It was on the very top shelf, and seemed to be pushed back. Which was odd that it would be in suck an inconvenient place.

"Ugh," you sighed, straining your reach to grasp at it, fingers trying to nudge it closer to you uselessly, "Come on..."

You tucked your chin down to you chest in hopes that would be the extra inch you needed. But after your side started cramping you just gave up. Settling back down onto your heels as you rubbed your forehead, thoroughly annoyed.

A shuffling at the end of the isle caught your attention, glancing over-which turned into whipping your whole head to look. A shocked look on your face, lips pressed tight and eyes wide as you looked at the man at the other end of the isle, holding a basket in his hand and reading the label of a bottle.

He was...huge. Beyond huge. This mans head was easily looking over the top of the shelves and the basket in his hand looked like a child's toy basket.

Your eyes raked up and down his body, he looked...suspicious to say the least. Wearing dark clothing and lots of layers, big boots and a ballcap that was tugged down his face. A mask covering the lower half.

Pulling your gaze back to the items in front of you, you felt a weird feeling of unease rack up your spine, rolling around your ribs and getting lodged in your throat.

Sighing, minorly upset you were judging this stranger so hard but, considering the stress you'd been under recently it wasn't a surprise.

You'd been shorter with people lately, and didn't talk to strangers as much as you did before. You also stopped going to new places pretty much all together.

As you tucked your hair behind your ear you rubbed the back of your neck, looking up at the item you needed. Quickly picking up on the heavy sound of footsteps approaching you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye to see the man walking closer, looking at the shelves as he passed.

As he got closer you tucked your backset closer to yourself, and further out of his way. Trying to eliminate any points of talking or interaction with the man before it happened.

Clenching your jaw as you chanted 'please just keep walking, keep walking, keep walking' as he grew closer. The music playing through the crackled speakers in the grocery store putting you even more on edge.

"Ex-kyoos me?"

You cursed to yourself and looked next to you, a tight smile on your lips as you craned your neck to look up at him. His voice was higher than you expected it to be, and he had a thick German accent.

"Um, yeah?"

You looked at his face, smile faltering a little at the look in his eye. It was...unsettling, he looked excited. From the skin you could see it was pale and had thick dark eyebrows, his eyes were pretty blue, even under the shadowing of the cap. He had almost a pleading look to him.

"I don't mean to in-trood, but," he chuckled a little, gesturing up over your head to the shelf, "I no-ticed you strug-gling a lit-tle bit."

His words sounded a bit clipped with his accent, and you felt your face flush as you looked off to the side.

"Um, yeah it's," you looked up to the shelf, "A little high for me, I was ab out to start climbing the shelf honestly."

You chuckled a little at your joke, and the man let out a sharp laugh and nodded.

"Ah ja, I vas vondering if you vere going to," he locked his eyes to you, holding an uncomfortable amount of eye contact, "However, I vould be more than happy to help if, ah you don't feel like clim-bing."

You shrugged, looking at the shelf and smiling kindly, "Yeah I'd be happy for the help, thank you."

As you were about to step off to the side, clear out of the mans way, he stepped forward, nearly trapping you against the shelf. Reaching up and grabbing the stain remover easily. Your eyes were wide as you were nearly nose to chest with the man.

Blinking owlishly as you looked up to his face, brows pinched together tighty.

"Um..."

He smelled of, old sweat, and something mildly familiar. But not enough to place. He also smelled of smoke, like wood smoke, or a old campfire or something along those lines.

He stepped back with the item and his eyes were crinkled like he was grinning happily under his mask.

"Heer you are bärchen!"

He held the bottle out to you, you hesitated to grab it, hand reaching out impishly to grab it, placing it into your basket. Eyeing the man up and down.

"Thank you?" your pitch peaked at the end, licking your lips nervously as you bit them.

"Of course," his tone was cheerful and he didn't back up any more, still far too close for comfort, "Vy else be zis tall if not to help, ja?"

You chuckled quietly with him, glancing down at his basket, and to his large, sturdy boots. There was mud caked on them, almost to the point it was flaking off.

"Yeah that's a good point there," you nodded, putting your hands into pockets.

"A lot of clee-ning sup-plies, yes?" the man gestured down to your basket.

You looked down to yours, sighing out, "oh yeah, my clothes just won't stay clean recently, not sure how they're getting so dirty."

You regretted saying it the moment it came out of your mouth.

"Ah, den zis vill help. My mutter used to use lemon to clean grass stains out of my clothing as a mäuschen," the man laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man was a bout as wide as he was tall, your brain kicking into fight or flight as you looked at his arms, You swore you saw muscle moving even under all the clothing. His legs as well, they were obviously solid, about as thick as your torso.

"Oh, I'll try that one," you nodded along, then looked down at his basket. Almost upset that you noticed a handful of your favorite items, and your favorite brands.

That weird feeling made its way back with a vengeance. Nearly making you dizzy by how suffocated you felt being towered over by this man.

"I've actually," you grabbed your basket, lugging it into the crook of your arm, smiling sweetly at the man, but anyone could see how the corners of your mouth twitched and how tight your face looked, "I've really gotta get going, thank you very much though! It was very sweet..."

"Of course bärchen, any time."

You backed away, praying to any god out there that the man just let you leave. Quickly making your way out of the isle when he made no move to stop you, but he watched you intently the entire time until you were out of sight. Even then you felt like he was looking over the shelves to watch you. You must've broken a record with how fast you checked out and got to your car. Sighing heavily as you locked the doors. Smacking your head against the headrest.

The drive home was uneventful, but you'd taken a strange route just because you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that you were still being watching. Whipping around at a red light to look in the back seat of your car, finding nothing. Groaning to yourself and rubbing your face aggressively at how crazy you were acting. Really thinking someone tucked themselves into the back of your car-much less that 6'7" mountain from the grocery store.

"Christ, I'm loosing it."

When you got home your door was locked, and nothing was out of place inside. Putting your items away, and tossing your bag onto your couch. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you until you made it into your bedroom.

Where you found a package of your favorite chocolates on your pillow, and a pair of your missing underwear placed delicately by the chocolate, a pretty lacey bow tied around them.

You shouted loudly, throwing your heavy jacket down onto the floor, hair wild as you put your hands raked into it.

"God-damnit!"

[sailornymph]

Hey! Can you please do a relationship dynamics with Sasuke when they were genin ? Like wether they were on the same team or not and how they act together Infront and off front of people, something like that. You write what you want, because I don't really have a preference for something , I'm just not good at describing what I want 🥹

‘IMPERFECT FOR YOU’

genin!sasuke x genin!reader

authors note : a big thank you for 200+ followers in just a month. i am super grateful and excited for what the future brings!! and your description was perfect anon, thank you :)

— you never intended on getting the attention of sasuke uchiha, originally, only trying to prove a point to your parents. you may have been a rainbow baby, but you were far from weak and did not need their constant overbearing protection

— you weren’t the quickest fighter, but you relied heavily on strategy and it carried you thus far, finally taking the genin exams. embarrassingly pushing your mother, as she hugged you, telling you that you didn't have to do this

— passing your exam, you receive the second highest score, only missing a question or two more than sasuke

— you are placed on team 8, alongside kiba, hinata, and shino. while there were talks of you being placed on team 7, many of the sensei disagreed pointing out that while you had the second-highest score, you didn't have any special qualities

— while you are aware of the uchiha’s presence, you aren't initially attracted to him. there are too many girls in the class who already like him, and he is very rude, so why waste your time?

— you have your first encounter, when you cause a scene, arguing with neji. it was no secret that he was mean to hinata, but no one seemed to ever stand up to him

— you knew he was stronger, but you still stood your ground, defending your friend. you couldn’t even remember what happened. your last memory conscious was seeing kakashi and guy sensei standing in front of neji…and sasuke, before blacking out

— waking up in the hospital, with a broken arm and a blackened eye, you are immediately bombarded by your worried parents, scolding you, as they pepper your face with kisses. was this not enough proof that the shinobi life was not meant for you? not exactly. they stick around until you convince them that you are fine and they can go back to working

— as they are leaving, kurenai sensei enters along with your teammates, with gifts and hugs, glad that you are okay. despite having to scold you, for fighting, she is also proud of you, for standing up for what thought was right. spending time with them, hinata shares a bit of insight from the fight

— before neji could deliver the final blow, the uchiha had intervened. no one even knew he was watching, the two of them shared words no one could hear, but from the look of it…sasuke and neji were about to fight next until their sensei’s showed up stopping it

— with a stunned look on your face, you accepted their hug as they left, allowing a few other friends to visit. by the afternoon, you could only imagine your expression, when there was a soft knock before sasuke entered

“you’re okay,” he said, his usual stoic expression in place.

“i am, i heard about what you did, thank you,” you smiled, as he let go of the door, allowing it to shut behind himself.

“tch, why would you think you of all people could fight neji?” he asked you, frowning, catching you off guard.

“the way he treats my friend is unacceptable, because of something she had no control over-

“so you pick a fight with a hyuga, you’re smarter than that, y/n,” he glared.

staring perplexed by his choice of words, you furrowed your eyebrows. sure, you had the second-highest scores, but that could have easily been a matter of luck. however, you were never around sasuke, you weren't even friends with sakura or naruto, so how would he have known if you were smarter than picking a fight?

“i’ve seen you training until the sun is setting, you want to be stronger, you aren't annoying like the girls in our class. all they care about is getting my attention, yet, you never spared me a glance”

“what is your point?”

“you're smart and i find you…interesting,” he found himself struggling to form his thoughts into words, a dark pink hue appearing on his cheeks.

“oh? sasuke, you are interesting to me too, you're very cool and i’m sure you will be an amazing shinobi,” you smiled, making him shift his eyes.

“would you like to have some food? everyone has brought me so much, i don't want it to go to waste,” you offered, hoping to lighten the tension.

“what do you have?”

“chocolates, mochi, onigiri, and soup”

“just a bit, i don't care for sweets,” he mumbled, joining you.

— the cycle continued and you don’t think too much of it. sasuke visited you every evening, sometimes he would talk (it is usually you talking and he had short responses) but he mostly listened, only leaving once you started yawning too much, or the nurse told him he had to go

— finally the day came that you could leave, and struggling to pack your things, your arm in the sling, you were unsurprised by sasuke picking up your bag. following close behind you, you thanked him, leading him to your house

— as you arrive, before you can wish him farewell, your parents open the door. staring at sasuke, they immediately began to thank him, inviting him inside for dinner. he wanted to say no thank you, but your mother was already tugging him into your home, saying he could wait with you until dinner was ready

— apologetically leading him to your room, it was awkward sitting next to each other. your eyes glued to the floor, as he stared at all of the pictures you had on your wall. from trips with your parents, pictures with your teammates, or other friends who weren’t in your class

— your father finally entered the room, letting you both know that dinner was ready. you proceed to endure the most insufferable dinner. your parents continually praising sasuke, how he practically saved you, and how he should talk you out of becoming a shinobi, you should focus on taking over the family business, etc

— after it was over, you quickly walked sasuke out, apologizing once again for your embarrassing parents. he tells you there is no need to apologize, but you can see on his face, he is holding something back

“what is it? i know my parents can be annoying, but you're so red in the face,” you laughed, walking beside him.

“no, they're not that bad, naruto is worse,” he said, making you laugh.

“i guess, he seems cool enough to me, so what is it?”

“would you like to get ramen with me, tomorrow?”

“sure, is that all?”

“yes, good night,” he said, turning to walk away.

“good night,” you waved, going back to your house, stopping as you noticed your parent's eavesdropping.

“can i help you?”

“did sasuke ask you to go somewhere with you?”

“yes, we’re getting ramen tomorrow,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“our baby is going on her first date,” your dad squealed like a schoolgirl.

“date?”

“honey, you didn't see the way he kept looking at you?”

“no, i’m going to bed,” you said, weirded out by them.

— all night you found yourself thinking about your parent's words. sasuke was being nice, even if he wasn't showing it on his face. did he like you? could you even like him back? you would have too much competition

— forcing yourself to go to sleep, you would let it go, until tomorrow and take things one thing at a time. from the time that you woke up, to the time that sasuke knocked on your door, were your parent's words. you had never even thought about dating, but here you were questioning everything

— going to the ramen shop, ordering your meals, you began to make conversation, until your food was placed in front of you

“you still have that distant look on your face”

“i-i like you a lot, y/n,” he admitted, his face turning red, as you didn't respond. were you surprised? disgusted? was the feelings mutual? sasuke felt sick to his stomach at the fact that you weren't responding.

“i like you too,” you finally said, smiling him.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“sure,” you shrugged, picking up your chopsticks.

— he eventually walks you home, this time, his hand brushing against your own. stopping in front of your house. your heart is racing, as you peck his cheek, running inside

— your relationship remains lowkey until it is exposed on accident. he had been sick when a few classmates decided to stop by and check on him. he slept downstairs, letting you have his room, when he heard the knock. opening the door, he was met by multiple voices asking if he was okay. making your way downstairs, you froze making eye contact with your classmates. naruto pointed out loudly that you were wearing sasuke’s pajamas before the uchiha slammed the door in all of their faces.

— only for the two of you to eventually let them in, acting as if nothing happened, admitting that the two of you are together, but you quickly change the subject, while sasuke continues to ignore everyone

— sasuke is very cautious and dating isn't even a priority for him, so for him to be so willing to be in a relationship with you, he feels deeply for you

— genin sasuke has a wall around him that only you have managed to climb over, to get to his true nature. around others, he acts like everyone is insufferable, even you

— however, when you spend the night at his place, or he visits you, while your parents are away on business trips, you get to see the real sasuke

— he’s gentle, clingy, and quite sensitive. from the moment that he let you in, his arms around you, as he mumbled a small apology for ignoring you earlier

— he seeks your approval, without even realizing it, did you see him training today? what did you think? did he seem like he was getting stronger?

— he is easily jealous but tries to act like he's not. you, hinata, and kiba are like three peas in a pod, but he can't stand the boy. hinata is very clearly only into naruto, but the wild boy is always near you, taking your attention. he also can't be too sure, but he saw him staring a little too long at you for his liking

— while he is jealous, he can hide it very well because his ego keeps him in check, he is the last uchiha, which made him better than kiba, right? also, you were his girlfriend and didn't even think of other boys in that way

— going back to his gentle and kind nature, while he usually starts immature arguments, he is also the one to want to make up first. you were trying to include him in some fun with your classmates, but he wanted to seem cool, so said no, mumbling how you were being lame. passing a few words, you scoffed, going to hang with your friends, then going straight home

— later that day, your mom called you from your room, saying that sasuke was here. concealing your frown, you invited him into your room, his arms were around you the moment the door shut. his breath shaking, his heart pounding, as he apologized, scolding himself for how he spoke to you

— doesn’t say much during conversations pertaining to if you were married when you get older, your dream wedding, etc. he just states that he will eventually want to restore his clan, when he’s older, while blushing

— leading up to him leaving, he becomes colder, and distances himself. you’ll sleep over and he won’t say a word to you, simply holding your hand, deep in his thought

— during the night that he left, not even you could stop him, completely changing your entire relationship

running as fast as you could, you came to a stop, seeing sakura knocked out, while sasuke was about to walk away.

“sasuke, don’t do this. you’re going to leave everything behind, kakashi, your friends, me. he just wants to use you-

“i have to become stronger, y/n, to k-

“to kill itachi, i know, but this isn’t the way, please”

“i’m sorry”

“sasuke, you promised we would grow stronger together, we would get married and restore your clan,” you cried, as he turned to face you.

“i cannot restore my clan until i’ve had revenge,” he told you, holding your face, as you cried harder.

“take me with you, if you have to go. i can’t be without you”

“no”

“please, sasuke”

“you have your parents, friends, teachers, many who would be broken at the thought of you gone. you can not go where i will be”

“you said you loved me, if you love me, why are you leaving me like i mean nothing to you?” you shouted angrily, tears pouring down your face.

“meeting and loving you has been my greatest privilege. you’ve brought emotions to me that i haven’t experienced since my clan was still alive. my love for you is the exact reason why i must leave you here,” he said, appearing behind you, knocking you out — leaving you and sakura both on a nearby bench, as he left, going to join orochimaru.

[selfindulgentpixies]

Safe in his arms, Safe in yours

part 1

Dazai x GN!Afab!reader X Chuuya

MDNI

I will block minors, ageless and blank blogs.

So I've been tossing around a few fic ideas for BSD and this is the first one that I finally finished. Well I say finished but in reality it's a part one. Came about because of omega verse selfship questions that my imagination go a little wild. This is self indulgent.

CW: Omega verse, established relationship with Dazai, Dazai was previously in a relationship with Chuuya. Reader's anatomy is referred to as cunt and pussy, but their chest is reference more neutrally. Alpha!Dazai, Omega!Chuuya(with some atypical behavior of omegas), Omega!Reader. They/them pronouns are used for reader. Sweet heart used as a nickname for reader by Dazai once.

Anyway please be kind and I hope you enjoy!

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. It’s why you were here solo afterall. You were supposed to slip in, an unassuming omega, get what you needed and get out. You’re not defenseless but you’re not a frontline fighter and rarely do you ever go in alone, especially since you’d bonded to Dazai. He was on another mission though, just like everyone was. The agency was swamped. And again, this was supposed to be an in and out mission. 

Being pinned to the ground by some monologuing asshole alpha had not been a part of the plan. A monologing asshole who apparently had a personal bone to pick with Osamu. But you also hadn’t accounted for a certain red headed mafia exec to show up. 

For you it feels like it happens so quickly. One minute there’s a boot on the back of your neck and the next… The next there’s yelling and then the weight is gone, amidst a crash and a rush of dust, gloved hands are gently helping you to a sitting position. “Good, you're still able to sit up. Thought the worst when I saw you pinned by the neck like that.” Eyes, one blue and one brown scan over you.

You blink at him somewhat owlishly, barely dried tear tracks streak your cheeks that he mercifully doesn’t comment on as he takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders, enveloping you in the scent of warm cinnamon and leather, making you shiver and pull it tight. You both turn at the sound of crumbling debris. 

The fight, had it been anyone other than Chuuya likely would have been touch and go but for him, especially with protecting someone in mind, was no problem. No harder than stomping out a large bug. A bit of a nuisance, a little gross, but not a problem. 

No, the real problem was the state he found you in after the fight. Curled forward on your knees, hidden in his coat, even both being omegas he could tell you were trying to breathe in his scent from the neck of his coat, likely in an attempt to soothe yourself. But you were from the ADA why would you need to be soothed, you should be able to handle this sort of stress- He kneels down  “Hey-” you jerk a little as he reaches into the coat behind your neck so he can slide a hand into your hair and tilt your face toward him. “Fuck.” Your pupils are blown wide and curls of hair stick to your forehead with sweat.

His grip on your hair isn’t tight and with the sudden closeness you find yourself drawn forward to his neck, toward his scent gland with a long faded bite where you press your face in a haze. You whine, you’d be embarrassed any other time but you can’t help it, you think you catch the faintest bit of Osamu’s scent there.

Chuuya can’t help it. He stills. Has to gather himself against the tidal of memories that want to pull him under. Then he’s rising up and taking you with him, gathering you up and carrying you as if you weigh nothing. “We can’t stay here with you like this.” His words feel so far away. Was he ever the one going under or was it you?

–

Getting to and checking into the hotel is hazy for you. Chuuya finally sets you down but you remain leaning heavily into his side. You’re fairly certain he doesn’t give your real names but soon enough the check in is done. You don’t notice the leering look the clerk sends your way, nor do you notice the warning flash of teeth Chuuya gives before ushering you along, one hand at the small of your back and keys rattling in the other. Ideally he would’ve taken you somewhere safer, but this place was convenient, and in the moment that seemed to be the most important thing with how fast your heat was coming on.

Key in lock and your warm breath on his neck Chuuya glances at you. “Just hang in there okay? We’ll get you settled and I’ll call that jackass alpha of yours to see how quickly we can get him to come take care of you.” The lock clicks and the door swings inward. 

“Sorry for all the trouble..” It’s the first thing you’ve said and apparently it’s not the right thing by the huff Chuuya lets out as he closes the door behind the two of you and locks it. 

“Hey none of that. This ain’t your fault, you hear me?” He scoops you up again so he can carry you to the bed and gently place you on the end of it. He kneels down and looks up at you meeting your gaze as he makes quick work undoing the laces of your boots. He knows that look, has seen it in the mirror when his own heat has begun to hit and he’s trying to keep a clear head. It’s a helpless feeling. He pulls off your boots and sets them to the side before massaging your left calf with one hand. “Do you have your phone? Dazai will be more likely to answer a call from your phone than mine.”

You fight to blink some awareness back into your eyes at Dazai’s name and fish around in your pants pocket, pulling out your phone and passing it to Chuuya. “Good,” He praises as he takes the phone. He can’t help but note that your background is a picture of yourself and Dazai where Dazai had fallen asleep on your shoulder and you decided to take a selfie. It’s sweet, it makes something tighten in Chuuya’s chest, he finds him your contacts and hits call. 

It rings once, twice, “Hey Sweet heart~ How’d your mission g-”

Chuuya doesn’t let him finish. “Dazai-”

“What happened?” All sweet flirting lilt leaves his voice immediately because something has to have happened for Chuuya’s voice to be on the other end of the line when it’s a call coming from your number. 

Chuuya has to resist the urge to snap back at him for interrupting. “They’re safe before you get your alpha panties in a twist, mackerel. They’re gonna need you though,” and he explains all he knows of the situation and gives him the location of the hotel before passing the phone to you. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you curl up on your side and quietly speak to Dazai on the phone, watches as some of tension leaves your body.

Then you speak up. “Okay I will.” And switch the phone to speaker. “Can you hear me, Slug?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I’m able, I already told them to let you look after them so I’ll be counting on you.”

Hearing those words from Dazai sends a thrill up Chuuya’s spine that he wishes he could smoother. “Yeah yeah, i was planning on it. I’m not gonna just make them suffer. Just hurry up you shitty alpha. Pretty pathetic of you having another omega taking care of yours..” the last part is grumbled as Chuuya begins to pull off his cropped jacket to place on the bed beside you before unbuttoning his vest.

You turn off the speaker and speak quietly to Dazai for another minute before hanging up, presumably so he can start making his way here without delay. You look to Chuuya curiously as he hands you the vest. “I know it’s not as good as something of his, but you can use it to nest for now.” then more hesitantly. “If you want it anyway.” He swallows as he watches your eyes spark with something before you’re pulling him onto the bed with you, only pausing long enough for him to kick off his shoes finally. 

Undressing goes in a push and pull. His coat shoved back off your shoulders, a tug of his harness until he gets the hint and it’s unbuckled, shirt over your head, his steady hands covering your shaking ones as you try to undo the buttons of his shirt. In this way the two of you are slowly stripped down your boxers, able to press skin on skin while you make your nest as best you can. He manages to convince you to toss your dusty clothes off the bed. You’re more antsy and fussy than Chuuya expected you be as he coaxes you into laying with him finally. Your instincts weren’t going to let you feel your nest was complete until you had something of Dazai’s So you needed to be distracted.

Really Chuuya would have told anyone who had dared tell him this morning that he’d be curled up in bed with fuckin’ Dazai’s current omega, skin on skin gently rubbing wrists together, the fabric of his gloves being pushed up, that they’d fucking lost their mind. Possibly would have broken a few bones. But that’s exactly what he was doing. You were soft, endearing in the way omegas were meant to be, in a way he never had been, he can’t help but think. But he also thinks he likes you like this. What a dangerous little thought.

“C-chuuya-” You whine into his neck, never attempting to bite or even lick, just often pressing your face to the scent gland there as you press your body along his. Chuuya’s muscular thigh has slotted between your own at some point, and he allows you to rut against him, the soaked boxers leaving little to the imagination. “P-please I need..” His fingers flex against your hips.

He suddenly flips the two of you so you’re below him. “You need to wait for that stupid,” He takes a breath, a mistake, he shudders, gathers himself, “You need to wait for your alpha. You’re not in your right mind to ask me for anything.” He shouldn’t have to breathe through his mouth like this, not for another omega, he shouldn’t , the taste of your scent is hardly better. He’s gonna be pissed if he’s in heat too by the time that bastard gets here. He can feel his mouth fucking watering over you.

“No no please, I know what I want, Chuuya, I promise. I’ve always liked you whenever we’ve met and, ‘samu says i can trust you an” you’re babbling, the heat is in your head now and honestly it’s hitting Chuuya too if what he does next is any indication. He cuts you off in a kiss, it’s wet, all tongue and teeth as he licks into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers as you yield to him immediately, so willing to give whatever he shows you he wants to take. Heat coils low in his belly and his hips jerk.

He should hold out. Put a pin in this until you’re both clear headed but fuck, the kiss was the point of no return because of the pheromones in both of your saliva. He pulls back from you, pupils blown as he shuffles to create enough space to lift your lower half enough to yank off your boxer briefs in one swift motion. He lets you sag there, one leg hooking over his shoulder at the knee while the other falls to the side, your foot hitting the bed with a small bounce. “Ffff-uck-” he breathes out. Your glistening cunt right there, your clit swollen. The hand by the shoulder where your knee rests grips you so he turns his head for a moment and takes out his need to nip and lave a soothing lick. He raises his right hand, the one not gripping your leg, to his mouth so he can pull his glove off with his teeth, spitting the garment off somewhere on the bed. Hand now bare he spreads your glistening cunt, his eyes blown dark.

You feel dizzy, well you’ve been feeling dizzy with it, but this is different now with your shoulders and head sunk low into the pillow as you look up at Chuuya who has you curled against his chest cunt first. Normally you’d be trying to bury and hide your face, humiliated by how closely he’s looking at the most intimate parts of you. Right now though? Your brain is heat addled and you’re pressing your weight into your shoulders to try press your pussy closer him- you can’t. You can’t, it’s like you’re being gently yet firmly held in place, held down all over. Chuuya turns his face slightly and grins down at you. “You’re gonna be patient for me.” And as he tells you this he slides his fingers through your slick folds. It’s only then that it occurs to you that he’s using his ability to hold you in place. Before you can react in any meaningful way he’s pushing his middle and ring finger into you “Fuuuck,” he says in chorus with your moan. You’re so warm and wet around his fingers, of course you are, your scent, even more than when he’d stripped off the last of your clothes, seems to fill the air around him. He can’t help but lean forward, forcing you to curl up further so his body is wrapping around your own.

He’s so lost in you, your expressions, scent, the feel of you around him, that he almost misses the click of the door’s lock. Almost. He begins to pull back from you, allowing your spine to unfurl while whipping his head toward the door teeth bared. 

“Easy there, Chibi. It’s just me.”  Dazai Says while slipping through the door quickly, opening it as little as possible and closing it just as abruptly not wanting the scent of his omegas.. omega to flood the hall. He looks rather harried, duffel  tossed over his shoulder. With the door securely locked his dark gaze turns back toward the bed and the biting words Chuuya had been about to spit at him about the nickname and running so late die in his throat. He loathes to admit what being under that specific gaze does, the weight of its possessiveness even if he knows it’s for you and not him.

“Osamuuu,” You whine, desperate, tears springing to your eyes all while Chuuya is jolted back to himself when he feels you clench involuntarily around his fingers. His heterochromatic eyes snapping back to you as his ability suddenly releases allowing you to sag and he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Shit, sorry- “ your name tumbles out of chuuya’s mouth as the bed suddenly dips and Dazai is taking his wrist, bringing the fingers Chuuya had just pulled from inside of you to his mouth and licking at the digits from base to the tip, the pink muscle curling obscenely, and letting the taste of your slick spread over his tongue.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’m here now. Chuuya was taking good care of you huh?” His voice husks, while he’s still holding Chuuya’s hand to his mouth.

“Do you f-fuckin’ mind, asshole?” Chuuya bites out, hating how he feels warmth flush even deeper at Dazai’s actions, the feeling of his tongue, the scent of an alpha coming off him in waves now that he’s invaded his and your personal space. He tells himself he should rip his hand away from Dazai, he’s more than capable and yet.

Your head bobs up and down in the pillows, drawing Chuuya’s gaze mercifully away from the lewd sight of Dazai still sucking your slick off of his fingers. “He really was, he’s going to get to stay right?”

“Hmm, that depends on him,” Dazai nearly hums the words, something knowing, syrupy thick and sweet dripping off the syllables making Chuuya finally yank his hand back. He ignores how goosebumps prickle his flesh from the alpha’s cooling saliva on his skin.

“Depends on what about me exactly?” The question is barbed, something most any other alpha would bristle at, especially while in the presence of their bonded omega, in heat and spread out on their back. But Dazai has never been just any other alpha.  

“Well on if you want to stay, of course. You were going well out of your way to help us.” Chuuya starts to open his mouth but Dazai interrupts. “And you know very well helping them, especially in this circumstance counts as helping both of us. So I’m certainly not going to chase you out.”

While the two of them are going back and forth you’re shimmying in the pillows, finally getting the leverage you need to begin to sit up, tucking your feet beneath you and by the time the two pairs of eye turn to you you’ve already launched yourself, tackling Dazai with most of your weight yet still snagging Chuuya as you go with your right arm. The result being Dazai on his back with you sprawled on his chest and Chuuya beside the two of you, your forearm planted across his chest in a way that can only be described as possessive. “I want you both here.” The words start muffled against Dazai’s bandaged neck though you turn your face just enough to peek one eye at the other omega.

And there's part one! My brain feels a little like mush from finishing it up and reading over it several times so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you all enjoyed!

I don't know why i'd so nervous about posting for bsd in particular but i am. 😅

Also special shout out to @lorelune for changing how i look at omegaverse forever.

tag list!: @startcarvingdarling @osamucide @lorelune @flametrashira @icy-spicy

@chuuminn @fyodior @pastelle-rabbit @katsulock @dorotheasdiary

@yinyuedijun @strawberrystepmom

[00valentina-writes00]

hiii! i don’t know if you do requests like this but could you do something with reader and abby going on one of those supply runs in the wlf and reader getting SUPER injured and it’s so angsty (but reader lives ofc). thank u your reading is so yummy 😋

✞⛧ Stay ✞⛧

Warnings: blood mentions, gunshot wound, angst, near death experience, fluff towards the end

The blood on your hands isn’t yours. Not at first.

The run was supposed to be simple. In and out. No unnecessary risks, no unnecessary fights. That’s what they always said before they sent people out beyond the walls. As if infected or desperate survivors cared about plans.

As if death cared about plans.

It happens fast.

The sound of a gunshot cracks through the empty street, and at first, you don’t even realize it hit you. It’s only when your legs give out that it makes sense. The pain doesn’t come right away. There’s just pressure—like something punched through your stomach, twisted, then left a hole.

You hit the ground, the world tilting as you collapse onto the pavement.

“NO!”

Abby’s voice is raw, panicked. You’ve never heard her panic.

The moment you hit the ground, she’s there, kneeling beside you, hands pressing down hard over the wound. A strangled noise leaves your throat as white-hot agony erupts in your stomach.

“Shit, no, no, no—stay with me.”

Her voice is shaking. She’s shaking.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through it, but the pain is unbearable. It spreads through you in waves, a deep, gnawing agony that turns every breath into a battle.

There’s more shouting in the distance. WLF soldiers returning fire, pushing back the ambushers. You don’t care. All you care about is the blood pooling beneath you, the warmth of it soaking into your clothes.

“You’re losing too much,” Abby mutters, more to herself than you. Her hands are covered in your blood, fingers pressing into the wound, desperate to keep you together.

You try to focus on her face instead of the pain.

She’s terrified.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her like this—jaw clenched, eyes wild, lips pressed so tightly together they’re white.

“Abby,” you whisper, voice barely there.

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t fucking talk like—like this is it.”

Her voice breaks on the last word.

You blink up at her. “Hurts.”

“I know, I know,” she says quickly, her free hand coming up to brush your face. Her fingers are warm, calloused, smearing blood along your cheek. “But you have to stay with me. You hear me? You don’t get to quit.”

She’s begging. Abby Anderson does not beg.

A sharp cough racks your body, making the pain spike tenfold. You gasp, vision blurring with the effort. The world around you fades in and out, dark corners creeping into your sight.

You know what this means.

So does Abby.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she whispers. Her forehead presses against yours, her breath uneven. “You hear me?”

Your fingers twitch weakly against hers. “I’m so tired.”

A choked sound escapes her throat. “I know,” she breathes. “But you don’t get to leave me. Not like this.”

You want to promise her you won’t. But you don’t know if you can.

The world tilts again. The last thing you feel before the darkness takes you is the warmth of Abby’s lips against your forehead and the way her voice shatters when she pleads, “Not you.”

Pain is the first thing you recognize when you wake.

The second is warmth.

Something solid, something safe is wrapped around your hand, squeezing, grounding you. You force your eyes open. The light is dim, flickering, casting deep shadows along the walls.

You’re in the stadium. The infirmary.

You’re alive.

Your throat is dry, tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to move, but pain rips through your body like fire, seizing every muscle. A sharp gasp escapes you.

There’s movement beside you. Then, a voice—hoarse, exhausted, desperate.

“Hey—hey, I’m here.”

Abby.

You blink, vision focusing on her face. She looks like hell. Her hair is a mess, pulled back but tangled, stray strands sticking to her face. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, deeper than you’ve ever seen.

“You’re awake,” she breathes, like she doesn’t quite believe it.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. She notices immediately, reaching for a nearby cup of water.

“Here,” she murmurs, slipping an arm behind your shoulders to help you sit up just enough to drink.

Even the slight movement sends sharp stabs of pain through your torso, but Abby is there, holding you steady, making sure you don’t fall apart.

You take a sip, coughing weakly. Abby’s hand lingers on your back before she eases you down again.

You watch her, taking in every detail. The tension in her shoulders. The way her hands tremble.

“You—” Your voice is nothing but a rasp. You swallow hard. “—look like shit.”

She exhales sharply through her nose, almost laughing. Almost.

“Yeah, well,” she mutters. “You don’t exactly look great yourself.”

There’s something in her eyes—something raw, unguarded.

Something that looks a hell of a lot like relief.

“How bad?” you ask.

Abby’s jaw tightens. “Bad.”

You nod slowly. You already knew that.

Silence stretches between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. There are things she isn’t saying, things you don’t know how to ask.

Finally, you manage, “You stayed.”

Abby’s lips press together. Her gaze drops to where her hand still grips yours, like she’s only just realizing it’s there. But she doesn’t pull away.

“Of course, I stayed,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

Something twists in your chest, and it has nothing to do with the injury.

“Thought I was gonna die,” you admit quietly.

Her grip tightens.

“You almost did,” she says, and for the first time since you woke up, she looks at you—really looks at you.

Like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she blinks.

Your stomach sinks. You thought you’d seen every side of Abby—the hardened soldier, the ruthless fighter, the unwavering leader.

But this? This is different.

This is fear.

She was afraid.

For you.

You squeeze her hand. It’s weak, barely there, but she feels it. Her breath catches, just for a second.

Then she sighs, running a hand down her face. “God, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” you say, and somehow, it’s the most sincere thing you’ve ever said.

Abby shakes her head, exhaling sharply. “Don’t be.”

She hesitates. Then, carefully, she shifts closer, pressing her forehead to yours.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

There are no words for this.

For the way her breath hitches when you lean into her touch. For the way her fingers curl around yours like she’s still trying to hold you together.

For the way she stayed.

You close your eyes.

“Not you,” she whispers.

She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t need to.

[dadsbongos]

dirty 30... or 40.

1.9 k words / warnings - (first time) anal, age gap/age diff kink, jimmy's your asshole ex, kinda rushed but like stfu

summary - it's curly's birthday! and a surprise guest (jimmy's pretty ex) gives him a surprise present!

“My dad died at forty, man,” the redhead in front of him mumbles. Plump lips stained red with wine and hair mussed in all the places she’s been wringing her fingers through it. Her eyes are a little drifty, empty behind the color and caked mascara, “But you’re in way better shape. So, you’re fine… I think. You don’t have cancer, right?”

Curly clears his throat, shakes his head to both refuse the accusation and try spotting any of his actual friends, “I don’t think I do.”

Jimmy is across the room, standing in the open patio door with his back to the room. An unlit cigarette bit between his molars and a black lighter in the hand he’s using to point out the glass frame. His cheeks are red, surely not from the single beer he’s had, and his face is pinched toward a scowl. He’s getting in a fight.

Perfect.

“Ah,” Curly beams down at the woman, a friend’s friend’s sister he thinks. Fresh out of a divorce. Pretty. One year older than him. Lovely, drunk, off putting, “My friend needs me. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Usually the last two are more his type, but tonight just isn’t his.

She nods and waves him off with the sweetest little, “happy birthday!” he’s heard all night.

Easily cutting across his tiled kitchen through the spread of his friends and family, Curly flocks where everyone else is already staring: troublemaker Jimmy raising his voice at an unseen woman in the backyard. Music filters in through the open doorway, not nearly loud enough to cover the murmuring of people wondering why the man was even invited. Which Curly supposes is fair -he tends to avoid bringing Jimmy to his formal birthday gatherings because everyone showing up is either from work or related to him.

But for some reason, the morning after Curly’s real birthday party with his friends Jimmy insisted upon making an appearance. Said he’d smoke the whole way through, but he’d stick it out.

Right as he’s brushing back stressed blonde waves and gearing up to drone out the classic hey what’s going on? he sees exactly what’s going on. From over Jimmy’s shoulder, he gets a view of the entire grassy block making up his backyard. Cousins and their older kids clog towards the pool, a few aunts lingering by his orange trees, but all the way to the right is his target. All the way to the right, at the very side of his house is a cracking wood gate door hung on rusty, squeaky hinges.

A hand is on that door, it trails around the edge and around to slide its metal bar lock into place before joining the other hand in cradling a yellow polka dot box. A purple glitter ribbon crinkles into the bust of your shirt, shiny flecks decorating your cleavage.

Once his eyes tread up your neck, he spots the beaten pout slithered over your face. Gaze honed on Jimmy -- which redirects his own attention toward Jimmy, the entire reason he’d toddled over this way.

“Get your hooker ass the fuck outta here!” Jimmy doesn’t give you the benefit of anyone’s doubt, either, he fishes you directly out of the crowd with the tip of his lighter. Silver glinting beneath the warm sun, “Bitch, if you- !”

“Don’t pretend we were strangers,” Curly steps past Jimmy, slightly jostling the man with his broader shoulders. Thick stature leaking out at his friend’s side and pouring onto the cement, he waves you over, “It’s been awhile! Glad you could find the place alright.”

Then Jimmy stabs an elbow into Curly’s side, hissing, “You fuckin’ invite this cunt?”

“No,” dismissively, Curly shrugs while watching you slink over. Heels stapling lime green astroturf into the ground as you do, “But what’s the hurt?”

“Bitch,” Jimmy scoffs, reaching behind the both of them to slam the glass door shut. Staunchly avoiding eye contact with you by craning his neck downward, cigarette drooping between his front teeth while he fiddles to light it.

“Good to see you again, Curly,” you all but purr, pushing the box in hand beneath your chest to give him a biiiig birthday hug, “I’m glad Jimmy hasn’t killed you yet.”

“Shoulda fried your ass,” is all the man says.

Curly laughs when he really shouldn’t and ticks his head towards the door, “Want to come inside?”

“How nice,” it’s clear you’re saying that loud enough for Jimmy to hear, “Of course, I do.”

To ease his friend even a little, Curly lingers at the glass door and quietly offers, “Jim’ wanna come inside?”

Jimmy shakes his head stiffly, sucking almost half the life from his cigarette in one breath.

“It’s been awhile, how’ve you been?” he guides you into the kitchen and pops the fridge. Snaking a hand deep into the back for one of those fruity seltzers he knows you drink (Jimmy hates them all and made you chug his entire beer in apology for buying them one night, Curly thinks that’s why he remembers this about you).

Your face, still round with unlived life and sweetness, brightens seeing the crisp white can in Curly’s hand, exchanging gift for gift as you answer, “Pretty good… Nothing crazy. How about you? What’s old age feel like?”

“Old age,” Curly rolls his eyes, twiddling the showy bow you tied, “Jimmy’s older than me, you know?”

“What do you think I called him?”

“‘Babe.’” jimmy hates pet names unless he’s the one giving them.

“You’re so cute,” you slide into his side, expertly dragging one tassel of ribbon to undo the knot. Skin flush against his, your warmth mingling until he can’t surely state where personal space ends and begins, “I meant that. Differently.”

Once the bow is done away, you lift the top of the box to expose a single piece of paper scrawled over with a pink glitter pen and heart stickers.

“I thought it’d be funnier this way, but uhh, happy birthday!” you have to double check Jimmy’s still outside before kissing Curly’s stubbled cheek. A dewy stain left behind, smelling of pure sugar, “You said you liked your ladies direct, right?”

‘ONE FREE COUPON FOR: BIRTHDAY SEX!’

Curly feels winded. Grasp on the box tightening. He blinks down at the scraplet before locking onto you.

Soft and sweet, despite it all. A reprieve from his own bullshit as much as an untouchable boundary. Maybe even more forbidden, actually.

Con: Jimmy had to buy your drinks for you when you two first got together, and that was only a couple years ago.

Con: You’re strangers outside of Jimmy.

Con: You’re Jimmy’s fucking ex.

Con: You’re almost half his age.

Con: You’re Jimmy’s ex.

Con: half his age

Con: jim’s ex

Con: age

Con: ex

pro: you’re absolutely throwing yourself at him.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Curly can’t really look you in the eye so he focuses on the patch of skin between your brow bones. Weirdly, that too is pretty to him.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” you shrug, so disconcerted with taboos and trivialities just like his cousins’ kids, “We’re both single, right? Not like anybody’s getting their feelings hurt.”

“Jim’ would- !”

“Jim’ would kill me if I toasted you,” you’re not sure why they’re friends but you don’t have the energy to ask, especially if it means it’s about to lead you to the holy grail of men, “Forget about him for a second, it’s your birthday.”

Sexual liberty, anti-puritanism, pleasure principle and all that bullshit -- kids these days are all hopped on hormones and fight those causes daily just for the right to fuck as they please (jesus he should stop saying ‘kid’). Sometimes social impurities are set in place for a reason.

But this is your choice, isn’t it?

Besides, you dated Jimmy. How much worse could Curly be for you?

“Break up was pretty ugly,” Curly hisses like this hurts him, and for all you know it probably does. His knuckles are whitening as he holds the (practically empty) box, “He wouldn’t even tell me about it.”

“Do you actually give a shit? Or do you just want me to go home?” you take the box away and make to turn out the door.

Not even a second passes before Curly scrambles after you, after the box. One hand on the corner and one hand on your shoulder as he blushes and pants, “Well- I- well- you know?”

“No clue, Grant.”

You beam up at him, all teeth glowing beneath rosy lips.

“You’re terrible,” Curly steers you towards the stairs, shaking his head the entire time, “You’ll get me killed.”

“Relax, it’s your birthday -you can do whatever you want!”

Like having sex right upstairs from the party composed of all your family and work friends.

“How’re you doing…? Hah -shit- can I move?”

“Uhhh… go slow, please?” you bat lashes up at him, one cheek smushed against the pillow and voice so high and pathetic and pleading.

Curly nods, a loose coil of flaxen hair bouncing in front of his forehead, “Yeah, yeah, of course- of course,” he’s mumbling to himself, mostly, every working braincell dizzying out at the tightness of your ass around him. He slides out one squelching, lubed centimeter before sliding back in, “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”

You squeal between pinched teeth, brows knitting up at Curly, “Careful!”

Sighing through his nose, Curly has to swallow down that entitled little ‘it’s my fucking birthday’ he wants to spit on your flaming cheek. Instead he just forces a ditzy, gold-hearted chuckle, “I didn’t believe you at first… about not letting Jimmy fuck you in the ass.”

Pouting, you reach up and claw the back of his neck to yank Curly’s lips against yours, “Don’t bring him up now!”

“But you really are tight,” he grunts, bruising your thigh in his hand -- taking out the urge to restlessly hump your ass in that vicious grip. The other hand slides between your molten thighs until he can swirl leisurely circles into your swollen clit.

A ragged mewl slithers through your throat right into Curly’s mouth as he repeats the tedious little pushes and pulls before he can glide smoothly into your ass. Pitchy whines wheeze after, hardly muffled by the man’s rosy lips. Shiny with mingling spit and swears. When his cock can finally urge past that cinching ring of muscle and you gasp, Curly can only quietly chuckle and nose at your cheek,

“What’s that, baby? What’re you whimpering ‘bout, huh?”

Letting your head hang back, nearly thunking against his darkwood headboard, you shudder and blubber out between ‘ah, huh, mm, uh’s, “So- full- Grant… so fuckin’ big…”

Some sick urge crawls over him before he can choke it down, "Bigger than him?"

You squeal, "Fuck, yes!"

Surging forward, Curly digs pearly canines into your exposed throat -- unsuccessfully attempting to mute his own moans into your skin. Only retreating far back enough to whisper into your hot ear, “Yeah? You like it?” your fucked out needy nod isn’t enough, he needs: “Say it, baby, tell me how much you love me in your ass.”

Fuck the party downstairs, if the music isn't loud enough they can just leave. And Jimmy could croak for throwing away a diamond slut like you.

“I love it!” you warble, breathe sharp, “So good, Grant- thank you!”

“‘Thank you,’” he laughs, sucking each bite in your neck until he’s sure it’ll be stained there tomorrow morning. Fingers dipping into your cunt as syrupy slick gushes out, middle and ring finger crooking toward the pouch of your stomach while his thumb continues to ply your bundle of nerves, “Cum for me, honey, c’mon, it’s my birthday.”

If he wasn’t digging you out with his cock then maybe you’d be able to cackle at how pathetically he whines.

And the best present of all is Jimmy’s controversially young ex letting him fuck her pretty little ass.

[dyns33]

Family's dog

The Solomons family is composed of three members and it was time to focus on the tiniest.

A dog's life wasn't an easy life.

Born on the street, hungry, sleeping in the cold, he had been happy the first time he had a master.

Some might say he wasn't a good master. He sometimes forgot to feed him, he didn't let him inside when it rained, considering that the kennel he shared with the others was enough and he forced him to fight when he didn't want to.

But as a dog, he was grateful.

Still, it was a shock to be adopted by his new master.

"Hello, love." the man had said when he saw him, putting his cane behind him and leaning down with difficulty to pat his head. "No, it's not a toy, and it's not a weapon either. I don't want to hit you, you don't hit nice boys. Don't you, Mr. Collins, nice boys like this don't deserve to be hit ?"

"Yes, Mr. Solomons, certainly."

"Certainly, innit ? Then why does he have marks all over him ?"

"The other dogs, sir. For the fights."

"Ah, yes, those barbaric spectacles. In our fair country, what a disgrace. Poor boy, is this where you sleep ? Mr. Collins, it takes no heart to make such a brave dog sleep in such a place."

"I can bring him inside if you…"

"Nah. He's coming with me, on top of what you owe me."

Mr. Solomons gave him a new home. A real home you could say, where he could walk everywhere, with food and water every day, gentle pats on the head, a basket for him, the right to climb on the sofa and the bed, and a name. Cyril.

Well, as for the bed, Cyril wasn't sure he understood. His master growled as soon as he jumped up near him, mumbling 'no', a word he knew well, but then he put his arm around him and fell asleep without trying to get him down or punish him.

Everything was wonderful with Mr. Alfie Solomons.

He also took him outside with him. At first, Cyril was afraid that it would make him fight or abandon him somewhere, but no. Holding him with a leash and swearing obscenities while asking him to slow down because of his back, they only went around the neighborhood or on the beach before going back.

There was the car too.

"Yes, stick your head out, it'll be better for you and me."

"Woof !"

"Isn't that right, love ?"

There were times when his master would have clearly wanted Cyril to be more aggressive. He would sometimes growl when strangers approached in a threatening manner, which was often enough to scare them off.

But most of the time, he would sit next to him, salivating, simply happy to be with his master.

"Cyril, I'm going to ask you to be a perfect gentleman, okay ? A perfect gentleman, even nicer than usual. If there's a bite, a bark, anything that ruins it, I should get angry, and I don't want to get angry."

The request was strange. Tilting his head to the side, Cyril watched as Mister Solomons got ready for an important meeting, as he often did. Except he looked nervous.

Not nervous like he could be, mumbling nonsense or complaining about his back, really nervous. His master didn't seem to be afraid of anything though.

For the first time since he had arrived in his new home, his master brought someone home in the evening.

Y/N Shelby, he introduced her with great ceremony. They obviously knew each other well, because the young woman ignored Alfie's long, wacky tirades to crouch down in front of Cyril with a huge smile, offering her hand for him to sniff.

A lot of humans didn't do that. They touched him without permission or kept their distance.

This pleased Cyril very much, who thanked her by licking her fingers, which made her laugh. A very pretty sound, which enchanted him as it seemed to enchant Mr. Solomons.

Faced with his acceptance, Y/N began by scratching his head, ears, neck, and he ended up on his back, in complete ecstasy, while she took care of his belly.

"You were right, a real menace. A terror. Alfie, I'm so scared of your dog." she joked at the sight.

"I must say he seems to adore you, treacle. It's a good thing, I wasn't joking when I said he was difficult, he only listens to me."

Mr. Solomons called him 'traitor' while continuing to treat him kindly. Strange, because Cyril did exactly what he asked, obeying his new mistress perfectly, probably even better than him. But Mr. Solomons often said strange things without thinking them.

It was the first time that there was a woman in Cyril's life, and in addition to seeming important to Alfie, she treated him with great affection and respect. She also took very good care of the one she called 'her husband'.

So it was very quickly obvious that she was the most important person, the leader of the pack. The one who had to be made proud and protected first.

"He only listens to you, huh ?"

"What can I say, damn woman ? Lovely witch. You seduced my dog, just like you seduced me. There's no other explanation, otherwise why would we both be staring sadly at the door until you come home, then following you everywhere ? One day, we'll fight for your attention, and you know what's worse ? He'll win. He's already stealing my place in the bed and you're not saying anything."

"I don't see you punishing him much either."

"I'm a criminal, love, not a monster."

It wasn't even true that he was stealing Mr. Solomons' place. Cyril couldn't sleep until both his masters were present, curled up against each other with him at the foot of the bed. He only stayed close to Y/N to keep her company until Alfie arrived.

If he didn't mean it when he called him a 'traitor' because he was nice to his wife, Cyril heard real indignation in his voice when he accompanied them to see Y/N's family.

Lots of children, and many men he didn't know, who seemed quite hostile to Alfie while welcoming him with smiles and gifts. How could you not love them ?

"Your dog is much better educated than you, Mr. Solomons."

"Ah yes, dear Thomas, they say that dogs are a reflection of the life their masters could have had, which explains why this one is so pampered."

"Say right away that I mistreat you."

"Absolutely, treacle. Every day. You check that I have done my work, that I eat, that I have my back cushion, it is real daily torture. Hoy ! Cyril, no !"

"He's playing with the kids, everything's fine."

"That little fool doesn't know his strength, Thomas. Don't come blaming me when he makes your boy fall."

Cyril didn't make the boy fall, nor any of the toddlers who were running with him, making all the Shelbys present laugh, while his master was still mumbling under his breath.

He didn't seem interested in being congratulated for having trained his dog so well.

With her sweet smile, Y/N whistled for him to come to her, which he immediately did while wagging his tail.

"Good boy. It's time to go home now. Alfie, stop sulking, come on."

"I'm not sulking, treacle. I whistled for him three times without him listening to me, everything is perfectly normal."

"You love it when he obeys me so well, like you love it when I give you orders."

"In your dreams, crazy woman."

"Alfie, in the car."

"… I'm not going to walk home from Birmingham, that doesn't mean I obey you !"

Cyril barked happily to support his mistress, because he saw Mr. Solomons obeying his wife perfectly all the time, pretending to be offended while staring at her with sad puppy eyes waiting for a caress in return.

Not a reflection of the life he could have had, but of the life he had, Cyril thanked his master for picking him up at the corner of the road when everything was going badly, walking a bit together before having the chance to be both cuddled by Y/N.

"Anyway, I know you prefer him to me." Alfie grumbled, lying on his back, while his wife scratched the dog's head, settled between them.

"He doesn't complain all the time."

"I don't complain all the time, love. If I did complain all the time, you would have smothered me in my sleep a long time ago."

"Hmm. Never mind. I taught him a new trick."

"Let me guess. Steal the cane ? Hide the rum ?"

"Cyril. Please, living room."

Reluctant but not wanting to disappoint his mistress, Cyril jumped out of bed to wait on the couch, as his mistress had taught him, until she called him again so he could come back.

According to her, it would be a nice gift rather than forcing his 'daddy' to get up all the time to let him out and then open the door for him when he wanted a special cuddle.

"A special cuddle. Treacle, he's a dog, very intelligent no doubt, but he's not like kids with their sensitive ears, you can say fuc…"

"Alfie. I can tell him to come back if you want, and send you to the sofa instead of him."

"No, I want my special cuddle. I almost didn't tease Arthur during the party, I deserve it."

It wasn't the mating season, so Cyril didn't understand why his masters and especially Alfie were active so often in the year, but they were happy, and as promised they always called him when they were done so that he could join them, so they forgave their oddities.

It really wasn't easy being a dog, but Cyril Solomons didn't complain.

[neyafromfrance95]

okay, here is the thing:

making the details of trop!galadriel's story extrimely "lore-accurate" won't work at this point.

in the lore, galadriel is a ruler of eregion before celebrimbor turns on her and then she goes to lothlorien and takes up the rule there, temporarily. then she goes to rivendell to find her husband and they move to belfalas so that she can gather information on sauron and send it to elrond. she disappears during and sometime after the war of the last alliance but then reunites with her husband to attend her daughter's wedding. then she travels a lot, investigating, and only after all that does she settle in lothlorien as the realm's permanent ruler (and fully devotes herself to powering up her realm and opposing sauron even more).

it wouldn't make sense for her to already be settled as the lady of lothlorien anytime soon in the show. the timelines are changed too drastically and trying to align them now would create more problems that would mess up the storytelling itself.

(like, rather than going to temporarily rule lothlorien, it would make sense for trop!galadriel to stay with elrond and prepare for sauron's attack on lindon. rather than going to belfalas, it would make sense for her to go back to numenor. it would work better if she established lothlorien after the sinking of numenor. it would be a neater storytelling.)

her trop story has to be good as its own thing, and i highly doubt that it can be if it sticks to the lore too faithfully. but it should not be an issue, since galadriel's lore has always been convoluted and contradictory, and trop is simply offering its own variation of her mythology.

what's important is that they capture the essence of galadriel's character and role. and no, it's not being the lady of the light.

when it comes to her character, she is defined by her power, knowledge and leadership. she is said to be so powerful that even elrond doesn't fully understand her powers, she knows all about the middle-earth bc of her travels and she always leads.

we know that she rules and is being a commander and keeps an eye on sauron. we know that she is dedicated like no one else to opposing him. we know that she desires power more than anything. in a way, even her resisting the one ring has to do with her refusing to let the ring have power over her.

trop has to tell a story of her fighting the darkness in the middle-earth and within herself, striving towards fulfilling her potential as a powerful being, bc that is the essence of her character. and capturing this essence is more important than adhering to the chronology, imo.

[redpill-tfs]

How dare you go around forcing these intelligent strong-willed guys into taking that dumb pill and turning them into this pretentious clown right wingers! I would never submit to this obsurdity!

I believe you mean "absurdity." You feeling alright? Maybe you shouldn't try to use such big words. They just confuse you after all. A big dumb guy like you should stick to small words.

I see you didn't notice my men behind you. The injection was given successfully. A syringe filled with a bright red liquid. The pill can take many forms. While I prefer the classic, we needed to find other ways to deal with those "less willing" to see things our way. The effects are the same though.

Your body ages to your mid thirties. You grow taller, raising up to 6 ft 4. Your jeans almost look like shorts now! Your chest expands outward, giving you a commanding presence. Your shoes and socks are ripped off as your feet grow to a size 13. Your hair turns a nice light blonde with a trendy haircut. Can't look sloppy in your new role after all.

Now let's get you dressed. You need to be professional in your line of work. Let's start with this white dress shirt, crisp and form fitting. There we go. Now a set of blue dress pants. Just stick your legs right in there... No don't struggle. You want this deep down. Perfect. Now for the necktie. A nice navy blue should do it. A matching jacket over top. Don't you think the gold buttons really bring out your eyes? Finally, a utility belt to bring it all together. So many tools for your new job.

From the look of utter horror on your face, it seems you've figured out what you are now. That's right. You're going to be one of the boys in blue. A true loyal MAGA cop, completely devoted to the system you once fought so hard against. I have your badge right here. I'll just stick in on your jacket here and kick off your reality change.

Gone are your days of protesting the system, fighting for the right for women to kill their babies, protesting the so-called "racial injustice" committed by cops. You're a true man now. You joined the police academy right after high school against your liberal family's wishes. They wanted you to go to college and create a better life for yourself but you weren't about to be brainwashed by the liberal institutions. Not that you were smart enough to go anyway.

You met the love of your life not long after and married her after graduation from the academy. You two have been happily married for 15 years now, three wonderful boys under your belt and a little girl on the way. You love your children more than anything, being sure to raise them right. You and your wife take them to church every Sunday without fail, raising them on the traditional values you wish you had growing up. Your oldest organized a protest at his private school against a student wanting to form a Gay Straight Alliance and you couldn't;t be prouder of him. You have no time for queers trying to indoctrinate your children with that bullshit. They're much too young for that.

Well Officer Jackson, I think it's time for you to get back out into the city. There's word of nationwide protests against our dear president and his administration and you'll need to preserve law and order. I'll give you some red pills to take. You never know, a protester might just decide to get violent. and need to submit to some corrections...

[pokepollsters]

Lumi Plays Pokémon: White 2 Bug Monotype Run- Part 10

Well, between parts I did some training, and an important part of that was this-

I evolved our newly named Karrablast, Drumstick!

This was another name suggested by @formlesschromatic, I picked it because I liked the connection between medieval/ren fair style drumsticks of meat and the knight that is Escavalier, but also because I pictured Drumstick using the little lances it has to play the drums. I wonder what instruments our other teammates might play?

Buckle in, this one's a little long!

After all the training, the team was looking good.

And it was time for the gym.

I wasn't too worried going in, and Teabag and Nectarine breezing through the gym trainers didn't change that at all. I decided to lead with Gumball, and then took on Clay.

I wanted to start with Gumball and see if I could set up some Iron Defense to tank hits from Clay's Krokorok and hopefully whatever came next. It worked well until a crit meant that by the time Gumball defeated Krokorok, he was low on health too.

Out came Excadrill. I let Gumball fall because I figured he wouldn't be much help beyond this point and went for Candy. Candy's Dig didn't too enough, and Rock Slide finished off Candy. I tried Drumstick, and using the Shell Bell meant he was able to stay alive longer, but between Excadrill's berry and a potion, Drumstick lost the battle. Nectarine and Teabag fell quickly after.

Clay did what only Nursery Aide Kimya had done before and wiped us. I'd gotten cocky! The team had done so well until now and I'd forgotten the challenge part of the challenge run, especially with my pride thinking I didn't need healing items to win the battle.

I learnt my lesson and made a couple of changes. Gumball learned Dig, and Drumstick learned Rock Smash. I also swapped Teabag's Leftovers for the Shell Bell on Drumstick, so the tankier Pokémon could have the more consistent healing. We went in and tried again.

This time I led with Drumstick. I had Rock Smash as a backup, but I was planning on building up some Fury Cutter power and trying to sweep through the whole fight, since Drumstick was really the only one able to handle all of Excadrill's moves. Turn one, Krokorok uses Torment. Well, that makes things awkward.

No Fury Cutter then, I chipped away at Krokorok until we got the knockout and back out came Excadrill. I healed up, not wanting a repeat of last time. We traded blows for a while, the Rock Smash not doing tons, but I was hoping for a defense drop. After three hits, we finally got it, and Drumstick had done his job well. I let Excadrill get the knockout for a clean switch we Drumstick got some rest.

Out comes Gumball, and he immediately outspeeds Excadrill and we go for Dig. Candy also could've done it, but I didn't want to give Excadrill a chance to outspeed and Rock Slide flinch me. Down goes Excadrill, finally!

The last Pokémon, Sandslash, isn't too bad. Gumball chips away, and gets hit in return. I take the opportunity of Clay healing to send in Teabag, who cleans up easily. One more badge under our belt, but what a badge it was!

After that, Clay invites us to go see the Pokémon World Tournament. I head south, and Clay shows off the building.

A pretty impressive building to be sure! But we're not doing that yet. We leave Boot and Cheren hanging as they now have to wait for us to come back and start the tournament! Sorry boys!

Grabbing some items around here, we find the move reminder! I check out what our squad can learn, and there's not tons. I consider Confuse Ray for Nectarine, but she's not likely to stick around long term I'm afraid. I also decide against Twinneedle for Drumstick, a better Bug TM isn't too far away. I do decide on a new toy for Gumball though!

Now there's the power of Bug Types!

Next, we headed into the cave entrance nearby- and look where we are! I feel the presence of another bug getting close...

I take on the trainers in here, grabbing items and lots of shards for move tutors later on. The team gets a couple of levels, when we arrive at the Relic Castle.

Buried deep in the sand, here lies a treasure I'm very excited for.

A crowning jewel of Bug Types, we battle Volcarona.

With some difficulty, I catch the beastly bug. Volcarona's Fire Type makes it quite awkward for us to fight! Thankfully, that just means it's going to be shoring up some weak spots amongst the team- we already saw how problematic a strong Steel Type can be for us!

And so we catch our new friend and return to the Pokémon Centre. I also ended up teaching her Signal Beam via the move tutor, plus Fly for convenience- at least for now.

All she needs? A name of course! I look forward to hearing your suggestions, and me and the bug buddies will be back soon for more! See you then!

[emsdevs]

can we get a tz11 where reader is nervous for something so he just does whatever he can to make her laugh and cheer her up 🙏

Sticks and Smiles

a/n: kirby my love, i'm sorry i made you wait so long for this 🧍‍♀️i hope i make you giggle while you read this MWAH love you 🧡

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Trevor Zegras Masterlist

You had an important interview at work coming up, and as the day got closer, your nerves became more and more prominent. Trevor could see the toll it was taking on you, and it made his chest hurt. He hates seeing you so stressed out. His favorite activity is actually making you smile or laugh. It’s what gets him through his own hard days. He takes it upon himself to cheer you up. He can’t have his girl being down all the time. What kind of boyfriend would he be?

“Hey babe! What do you call a pig that does karate?” he wasn’t sure why, but dad jokes were his preferred method of cheering you up. It probably stems from when he said one on your first date because he was so nervous he wasn’t sure what to talk about. That was the first time he’d heard you really laugh, and he’s been chasing that high ever since.

“What, Trev?” you couldn’t hide the sigh in your words.

“A pork chop!” He managed to get a little grin out of you, but he wasn’t planning on stopping. He’d try again soon. Just about thirty-five minutes later, he decided he should throw out another joke.

“Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?”

“I don’t know, Trev. Why?” the grin was already making its way back onto your face, and he knew he was making progress.

“In case he got a hole in one. Duh,” he said the punchline in such a stupid tone you couldn’t help but let out one little chuckle. He waited almost an hour this time, giving it enough time that you might think he’s done.

“Baby. What did the policeman say to his belly button?” “Again?”

“Yes! C’mon!”

“Okay,” you sigh, but it was really just for dramatics, “what did he say?”

“You’re under a vest!” Trevor must’ve thought this one was pretty funny because he laughed before he could even catch your reaction. When he saw you fighting away a smile, he knew for sure his plan would work. He just couldn’t give up.

The two of you had just finished eating dinner when he dropped the next joke, “Why are there gates around cemeteries?”

Your brows are furrowed when you look at him, worried about where this joke might go, “Why?”

“Because people are dying to get in!”

“Trevor!” you try to scold him, but with the small laughs you’re letting out, you know he isn’t taking you seriously. He waits until you’re both in bed to tell you his last joke. You’d just gotten comfy, him cuddled up against your back.

“Babe,” he’s whispering horribly right into your ear, “what’s brown and sticky?”

“Trevor, no.”

“C’mon please.” Again, you sigh, “Okay. What is brown and sticky, Trev?”

He snorts before revealing the answer, “A stick.”

You can’t help it. That one gets you. Before long, you’re cackling right beside Trevor, and he’s loving it. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s seen you smile that brightly. Knowing he caused it makes him ten times happier.

“There’s my favorite smile,” he’s looking at you so tenderly that it leaves no room to doubt how he feels for you.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so stressed recently,” you’re not sure why you’re apologizing. You just felt the need to.

“Don’t be sorry. Just wanna be sure you’re happy. That’s all I ever want,” Trevor leans in to kiss your temple, and the two of you fall asleep like that, all tangled up in one another with smiles on your faces.

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[kuromipuzzles2000]

"so, in what universe are we, Trivia?"

"i-i...i don't know, for me even is new, it looks so normal. . ."

"just hope we're not on the canon universe. . ."

". . .if we keep investigating we'll not have time to meet the Mario of this universe and the rest of the cast. . ."

Strawberry sighs as he just looked at his best friend as gave a smug smile

"i know. . .Trivia, hey, what if you go for and meet Mario and I'll find the rest of the crew? it will make you happy?"

Trivia gasps as his eyes shine and smiled genuinely

"y-you're for real Strawberry?"

"yeah, after all, i know you root for know him and try to be a friend of any Mario, go now, we'll meet later, ok?"

"y-yes! see you later bro! thanks you so much again!"

"see ya, Trivia, be careful, ok?"

"i'll be!"

Trivia walked off to try find Mario, as Strawberry stayed on the place for a bit, he'll then start walking, he knows maybe he'll found the rest of the SMG4 Crew of that universe on the showgrounds, so he'll go there. . .as Strawberry approached the showgrounds, he could notice SMG4 standing by the door of his castle, immobile, maybe he was staring at some random stuff? who knows. . .the neko Mario recolor stepped in to try to talk to SMG4

"hello? SMG4? my name is Strawberry and-"

. . .

but no response. . .Strawberry would walk closer, to see better the SMG4 before his eyes, as he approached him, he could notice SMG4 with a tanuki tail and tanuki ears, and strange red rings over his wrists and ankles. . .too his clothes with more pale colors. . .instead of his bright blue and white colors

". . .S-SMG4? is. . .is that you? well now i am pretty sure you're not the canon one, but. . .but. . .you look. . .look pretty. . .i-i no want offense, but. . .look pretty. . .in bad state, i-i am a medic, i-i can help if you wa-"

"no thanks. . .i am perfectly fine~"

"G-Guh? S-SMG4!? y-you're far from. . .from be ok! i-i can help i-"

God Box SMG4 turned around fully and quickly approached Strawberry, grabbing him by the shoulders

"it was a long time since i saw a Mario Recolor. . .since our little incident with 0 on my channel's 10th anniversary. . .i thought they all died or. . .got reworked"

"i-i. . .ummm, i am from. . .from other universe, 4. . .w-we too lived the 0 incident, but i and my family got to survive and we was like the only Recolors who didn't got redesign on my Universe"

"interesting. . ."

SMG4 lifted Strawberry grabbing him by the throat, strangling him a bit, Strawberry gasps as he try to fight back for get free from SMG4's grasp, kicking his legs, hitting his arms. . .nothing worked, no success. . .

"i wonder how would it feel to be a Mario recolor again since. . .that fatidic day and my design was forcefully changed that day~"

"S-SMG4...P-P-Please. . .t-this. . .this not. . .not you gah! l-let. . .l-let me go!! let me goo!!"

No response, as soon as Strawberry knew, everything went dark around him. . .

. . .

and then a sudden pain, where he felt his body stretch a bit more, his bones cracking, and felt like if his cat ears and tail was ripped off and feel tanuki ears and tail on grow on it's place, blood came out of where his ears was and was replaced by the new tanuki ears, too from his tail, and felt how his leg and arm felt like burning

"i-i. . .i am sorry, Trivia, Noelle, Berdly, SMGS. . .i-i. . .i won't be there for you 4 anymore. . .more for you Trivia. . .i. . .i failed you. . .i am sorry"

was the last words he could say on his head, as he didn't even had control of himself. . .he isn't dead, but felt like on a deep sleep. . .a big heavy deep sleep. . .for eternity

"ahhh. . .it feels so good!~ i could get so used to this new body, i can use it for remember the old times when i feel nostalgic about my old body!"

SMG4 said with a mix of Strawberry's voice and his, SMG3 who arrived shortly stared at his partner as put his hands on his hips

"you lucky bastard, if i was here sooner. . .I WOULD had the chance of be the one reviving the nostalgia!"

"too slow, snail"

SMG4 stick his tongue at SMG3 which he grunts and crossed his arms. . .they suddenly heard someone come and calling by Strawberry

"Strawberry? you're here? we need. . .need to go!"

. . .SMG4 and SMG3 looked at the direction the voice came from, then looked at each other and smirked

"you thinking the same as me, 3?"

"yeah!"

"let's have fun with this poor soul's friend~"

they both whispered at each other and then SMG3 hided on the bushes, he's ready to see the fun that awaits ahead

"t-the Mario of this universe looks. . .looks kinda weird. . .i-i. . .i no want keep here if we entered an apparently creepypasta au or something. . .u-uhh?"

Trivia walked near as saw Strawberry from far and turned backwards just noticing his friend has a Tanuki tail

"S-Strawberry? w-why. . .why you. . .you turned a Tanuki now?"

"Strawberry" turned around as which Trivia could see "Strawberry" a bit

gasp

"S-STRAWBERRY!? S-STRAWBERRY WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?'

". . .don't worry, old friend. . .i am fine, i am a medic after all, no? i am ready to hang out now with you. . .let's start, shall we?"

I DONE instead of work by my own 200 special pics i am doing other's special lol

Long time since i discovered this AU existed and wanted do something for it! but couldn't find what to do since my ocs/aus are. . .well all Mr. Puzzles even my own sona lol and i had planned do it with my sona but she is total artificial

and i saw this and i said i wanted participate and i had Strawberry available so why not! (and be a follower since i followed the content without follow the artists cuz i am so shy-)

@grinnames congrats for the 200 followers i like your AU and whish if i didn't had artificial robots I would make a version of godbox of any of my aus or my sona but wouldn't so accept Strawberry as sacrifice for the collection 🙏🏻 hope SMG4 enjoys his new body that too bring nostalgia for be a Mario recolor

[makeyoumine69]

Hello dear people in my beloved American Psycho fandom! I couldn't force myself to write this post because I didn't know how to do it, but I think now is the right time. I promised myself not to bring personal stuff into my writing, but since one thing affects another, I think I should finally speak up.

This year started pretty bad for me, I was suffering from a huge apathy and my mental health was probably in the worst state in the last few years. I had to cut ties with a lot of people and distance myself, and I'm really sorry for doing that, but I had no choice because I was literally dying from the inside. When I came back to Tumblr in 2022, I was absolutely alone and I had no friends, no followers and in some ways I felt calm and peaceful. I always thought and probably still think that I should be alone and isolated from everyone, like a soulless writing machine just producing fanfictions for people to consume. Maybe this is not a bad thing, because interacting with people always carries the risk of getting bruised?

Anyway, the thing that broke me completely was the news I received in the last days of January that I would be fired in February because my company decided to close the project I was working on due to the high inflation and bad economic situation in Russia. So now I have to find a job within February because I have a lot of financial responsobilities like paying for the medical treatment my family is getting. My grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer and her surgery was paid for by me and my fiancé, but the medicine costs a lot, so… after I told my mom about my news, she blamed me for everything. I was not really surprised though, considering that I have been having fights with my whole family for the past few months over different topics, but mostly they hate me for my political opinions. Whenever I say that I am tired of the war, sanctions and all the other stuff that 2022 has brought, they call me a fucking traitor. My family is ready to cancel me just because I told them I was tired of living in isolation, that I had even forgotten what my life was like before the war. My fiancé is literally the only person in my family who supports me, and even though I'm going to lose my job, he told me he would do anything for me, for us, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm really scared about the future, I think I really am now.

So, I'm sorry for not finishing the Christmas fics I promised to post, I'll try to finish them soon. Also, I'm sorry for not being active with fulfilling the requests and replying to your asks. I'm really sorry. And I know some of you might think that why I keep writing new series and working on different stuff while I have WIPs I need to finish—I'm just trying to follow my muse and I can say that it's really unstable these days, but I'm really trying to do my best and deliver something good for all of you!

I also want to thank all of you who have supported me with your donations! It means the world to me! Unfortunately, my account on the platform I was using for donations has been suspended because of… DOLLARS! They think I'm a scammer or something because the dollar is such a cursed currency in Russia right now, so I don't know if they'll unban my account, I hope they will.

Okay, that was longer than I thought it would be. To end this crazy rant, I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me no matter how fucked up I might be! I believe that one day I will find my way back to myself so that I can come back strong and refreshed!