#WHATEVER MAY AIL HIM………..

[alrunaaa]

IM LOOKING. IM LOOKING VERY CLOSELY

Caught him mid flu sneezing fit 👀

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[elixirfromthestars]

In His Embrace

Pairing: Agent!Bucky Barnes x Journalist!Reader

Summary: As a new day begins and the snow cascades beyond your windows, you know there's no place you'd rather be than in his arms.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> it's too cold, stay in bed

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my beloved Kat @elvenrin ♡♡♡ When reading your history major Bucky, it felt like I was getting a warm embrace from autumn, so I hope this can be a cozy winter hug for you!! ( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ This fic is written as a standalone piece, but I will link below the pairing this fic is based on, if anyone would like to read more! Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

how their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

The wind howls beyond the windows, blowing the snow across the sky in white streaks. A few flurries land upon the glass pane, perching themselves as if looking into the bedroom. Bucky cradles you against his body, your head resting on his chest with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat acting as a lullaby.

Whereas a frigid dawn inhabits the outside, inside on the plush bed, the arms of your beloved and the sheets that envelop your body keep you in a bundle of safety and warmth. Protecting you from the harsh winter and whatever else may ail you. 

What a shame it is you have to get up soon…

There is not one muscle in your body that wishes to move, but tonight is possibly one of the most important nights of your life and you would be lying if you said you weren’t stressing over how the night would go. In and out of a restless slumber as the moon departs for the day and the sun greets you once more. 

For the first time since you moved in together, you and Bucky are hosting a dinner for your friends, his family, and your family. It would be a gathering of at least ten others, not including yourselves, and neither you nor Bucky had ever taken on such a large hosting. Not only that, but you were finally meeting his parents and you wanted—no you needed—so desperately to make a good first impression. 

Everything had to be perfect—it just had to be.

Your limbs thrum with a heavy reluctance as you slowly slide your arms above his, attempting to gently pry them off from around you. However, Bucky has a strong hold on you even in his sleep, so your gentle prying does little to nothing to get him off. 

The last thing you want to do is wake him as he’s had a few hectic weeks at work. His client load went from two high-profile celebrities to seven, ever since he became one of the most successful agents at his talent agency. Thankfully, he’s taken the holidays off and getting some much-needed rest. Hence why finding a way to break free and not disturb his sleep is your main objective.

Since you couldn’t pry him off, you decide to try and slide out of his hold. Wiggling your hips ever so slightly to gradually scoot downwards on the bed. It seems to be working, but as soon as you free yourself he lets out a heavy sigh, causing you to freeze. You slowly tilt your head until you can catch a glimpse of him, relaxing when you notice he’s still fast asleep.

That is until his arms go to wrap themselves around nothing. The warmth of your body missing against his is enough to stir him awake. His eyes groggily blink open and when he sees the space next to him empty, they immediately search for you. When he spots you further down on the bed he frowns, his mind too dozy to register what you were trying to do.

“Hm? C’mere…” Bucky mumbles out, his morning voice gravelly with a gentle edge. He doesn’t let you move further away as he scoops you back into his arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and nuzzling his head on top of yours, before promptly going back to sleep. 

You huff out something between an annoyed groan and a soft laugh, realizing he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. As soon as you were back in his arms you found yourself snuggling into his warmth. You couldn’t help it as your body acted on instinct. Whenever he held you, you felt the utmost sense of belonging, almost like you had finally found your place in this world and it was wherever he was. It's a feeling you have lost yourself in from the moment he became yours.

“Bucky, I have to get up,” you whisper against his neck, placing a soft kiss on it. He responds by grumbling out a muffled no. You keep pressing sweet kisses into his skin with every whispered explanation and plea, hoping that would be enough to get him to listen. He doesn’t though, your plan backfiring as he basks in the kisses, even more determined now not to let you leave his side. 

“Sweetheart, I really have to go. There’s an errand I have to run,” your tone is slightly firmer when you notice the kisses are having the opposite outcome you want. At your tone, his eyes fly open, narrowing at you suspiciously, “I thought we agreed to take the holidays off.” You ignore the way his morning voice makes your heart stutter, brushing a few strands of tousled hair from his forehead while you nod, “We did. This isn’t work-related. There’s a list of things I have to go pick up from the store.”

At your explanation, his gaze softens, gently taking your hand from his forehead and placing a tender kiss into your palm, “You don’t need to worry about that. I bought everything already.” His response causes you to frown, unsure if you heard him right. 

“You what? No, I made a list and—”

“I know, darling. I saw the list and went out to get the items yesterday while you were reading in the study. You were so lost in your novel you didn’t notice I left.”

You stare at him with affectionate astonishment, a part of you still has trouble wrapping your head around not having to do everything on your own anymore. Bucky has always been attentive and supportive—even from before you moved in together—acts of service from him were a regular occurrence. Regardless, you sometimes struggle to let go of that control and mindset of doing everything on your own. Years of being independent and living alone—not only as a means of living but also as a way to prove yourself to others—had cost you the habit of relying on anyone when you needed it.

Despite that, Bucky has always been patient with you. Showing you time and time again that you can rely on him—that he is your person and the one who will always be there as a guiding light in the dark.

He smiles softly at your reaction, the ocean in his eyes hazy with exhaustion, and yet glimmering with a profound devotion. He leans forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss that eases your awe and reminds you how much he loves you.

He pulls away, his nose brushing against yours as he whispers, “You deserve rest, my love. You’re not alone anymore, you have me now. Always.” Your eyes drift away from his gaze, your apprehension returning for a brief second, “I know I have you, Bucky. I know that. It’s just…everything needs to be perfect tonight. If you bought everything already then I should get up and—” He silences you with another kiss, one that starts at your lips and then travels all across your face, showering every bit of you with a dose of love until your brain can only focus on him.

“We should get some rest, and later we’ll get up and prepare everything for tonight’s dinner,” he continues to pepper kisses across your face, trailing them down to your neck as he adds, “Everything will be fine. The dinner will be perfect because you’ll be there and I’ll be there and all those who we love and love us will be there too. That’s all we need, darling. We don’t need anything else.” He assures you kindly, his actions and words an effective remedy to your anxiety.

“And here I thought I was the one who had a way with words…” you laugh softly, giving in to his persuasion. A dreamy smile dances on your lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and snuggle closer to his body. He lets out a soft chuckle, pulling you in impossibly closer, “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.” You can hear the grin in his voice, your eyelids growing heavier as the lullaby of his heartbeat returns.

“Sleep, my darling. We’ll figure everything out later. Together,” Bucky presses a tender kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes. You whisper out the quietest echo of the word together, before drifting off to sleep. Your heart is at ease, wrapped in the kind of peace only his embrace can offer—the feeling of home.

[tokiwarcube]

Hugging Dethklok is...

Just some little headcanons on what it would be like to hug the boys (+Charles) when you're having a rough time.

Hugging Charles is…

Warm. There’s a lot of things in this world Charles can fix… and many that he can’t, loathe as he is to admit it. It’s what he does, after all. He makes things right. So when the world is crashing down upon you, it pains him beyond belief to know that he can’t just fix what ails you. But little does he know, he still lightens the burden just by being him. You’d think him stiff and unsure, but after so long of knowing you, the comfort seems to come easier. He’s good at giving advice when needed, but it’s nothing compared to the way he holds you — firm yet soothing as he runs his hand comfortingly along your upper arm, before kneading tender circles into your shoulder. Stable. Steady. Even when things look bleak, he exudes such a warm, patient presence that, even if only for the moment, makes things more bearable.

Hugging Nathan is…

Safe. He doesn’t give hugs often, but when he does, he does a good job at making you feel protected. From the world. From yourself. From all the suffocating black clouds of fear and anxiety that threaten to choke you, and leave you dead where you stand. He doesn’t really know how to talk you through whatever it is that you’re struggling with, but that’s okay — sometimes the silence is better, anyways. Strong arms wrapped around your form like a shield against that all that plagues you, steady heartbeat beneath your head narrowing your thoughts onto that singular sound… He wishes he could make things better for you with a wave of his hand, but not all problems are so easy. Until then, this is enough.

Hugging Pickles is…

Familiar. You’ve spent so many days and nights in each others’ embrace that when things get rough, you hardly even have to ask. There’s an odd thing that comes with grief — the constant well-wishes and special treatment, which appreciated in some respects, sometimes just makes things feel… worse. Alienating. A perpetual reminder that things aren’t what they should be, right now. But Pickles is different. You can talk about it if you want to, sure, but if you don’t? He can just hold you for now — content to simply be with you, unwavering in his place in your life. The familiarity of it helps detract a bit from the aching reminder of the unfamilar. If you want him to hold you tighter, or talk, or shut up… just say the word. He’s there for you.

Hugging Skwisgaar is…

Feeling seen. Skwisgaar struggles with a lot of things in this realm — giving affection, receiving affection, talking about fears and pain and sadness… so frankly, he doesn’t. Not unless it’s you — by you, for you. He’s all gangly limbs and simmering insecurity, but for you, he tries. So when he pulls you to his chest, long arms curled around your middle as he rubs tender circles against your skin, you know he’s truly, truly there for you. Not out of obligation, or as a half-assed attempt at placating you — He would never push himself so far out of his comfort zone if he didn’t truly want to help lighten your burden. When he hums little affirmations, you know he’s actually listening: He may not know exactly what to say, but he makes you feel heard. Seen. He may not have all of the solutions to what you’re going through, but the simple fact that he’s here, unwavering in his love even when he doesn’t know just how to express it, is enough.

Hugging Toki is…

Secure. Toki is no stranger to affection, but when you really need it, he pours every ounce of love he can into the gesture. Sometimes you forget how strong he is — in every sense of the word, really — until you’re pressed against him like his. Hugging Toki has always made you feel safe, but in times like this, he makes you feel secure, too. Secure in the way of knowing that the horrors of the world aren’t going to keep you down forever. Secure in the way of knowing that you’re not going to go through this alone. Do you want to talk about it? He’ll listen to every word you have to say, chiming in when he can, and placing little kisses to your temple when he can’t. His mustache presses against your skin so familiarly when he does, and it’s then that you know that you won’t have to go through this alone.

Hugging William is…

A promise. There’s a lot of things William missed out on in life — chiefly that of comfort. So in some respects, you’d think he’d be unsure of how to give it — and perhaps that isn’t entirely inaccurate. But he dreamt often of such gestures, a sort of guilty pleasure if you will… so while he might not be certain of the perfect way to help, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he pours every ounce of love that he can into the gesture when you need it the most. And oh, does it ever show — he drops his voice into a half-whisper as he whispers little affirmations, of how it’ll be okay, how you’re going to get through this, how you’re not alone. And anyone could say these things, sure, but from him? They sound like they really could be true — not generic nothings, but actual promises. And with how close he holds you, how warmly he speaks, how much physical warmth he seems to exude… you start to believe him.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 6th

Day 6: A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heats, disguises, mentions of killing, mentions of sexual abuse, fear, mating needs, masturbation, begging, mentions of knotting, breeding, protective Pero

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You shiver, body starting to burn, although you are thankful for the stench of the sweat and mud. It masks the scent that would give you away. The days of not bathing and fighting without any chance to rest have concealed your nature, making it easier for you to ride with them until now. Now you will need to slip away. To disappear in the night or risk having to fight off the few true alphas that are in your group. 

There hadn’t been enough time for you to grow attached to them, you had only been traveling with the band of mercenaries for six weeks. You had assumed that your herbs were working, that you wouldn’t go into heat. You were wrong. 

It started with an ache in your belly. Gradually increasing in intensity until Rizzetti was asking you what your problem was. He didn’t actually care, but he was already planning on stripping your body if you were to die of whatever was ailing you. Making you snarl and glare at him until he finally left you alone. 

None of these men know you are a woman. Your dirty appearance and shapeless clothes concealed the truth and you had just told them that you had never been able to grow hair on your face. That had kept you safer than any guards, than hoping someone would protect you. You were exposed to the disgusting nature of most men when a woman is not present, but with your scent masked and your nature unknown, you had slept peacefully until the last few days. 

The fire crackles and burns, snoring from the lumps of blankets gives you some peace. Allowing you to move slowly, Shuffling up and creeping away from the light of the fire. Unaware that a lone set of eyes had been watching your every move. 

****

Whimpering, you know that you have to get to the cave that you had found earlier when you were hunting. It was close to the water and large enough to hide your horse in case any of the men came looking for you. Although you doubt they would. You had been careful to leave all the supplies beyond what you had brought with you. 

The slickness between your thighs is driving you crazy and the clothes are rubbing your skin raw. You need to strip down and try to assuage the burning need in your core by using your fingers. To try to fill the space where an alpha’s knot would be, satisfying you and filling your needy cunt. 

The horse is content with his feed bag and your bedroll spread out, your clothes seem to peel off easily, even though your fingers are shaking. Moaning softly as you feel the cool air of the cave on your skin and soothing the fire that is raging inside you. 

“So you are omega.” You shriek, jumping and spinning around to find Pero Tovar, the Spaniard, holding the reins of your horse and watching you with glittering dark eyes. “I thought I smelled it on you.” 

Your heart pounds, the dagger that had been strapped to your waist discarded on the cave floor, not close enough for you to grab if he decides to lunge at you. He watches you look at it and then back at him. 

“Do not test me.” He warns, nostrils flaring and his chest puffing under the armor he wears beneath the rough fabric of his poncho. Your body tenses, but you don’t move. 

He’s an alpha. You had been wary of the grumpy and often violent mercenary as you had ridden with the group. Unaware of his eyes watching you, but unsettled when he spoke to you, his questions more probing than anything. Now you realize that he had been figuring you out. 

“Please.” You swallow harshly, knowing that you are now at his mercy. Your fate is sealed. You will be dragged back to camp and used by all the alphas there. Abused and stripped of what little dignity you had before they decided what to do with you. 

He grunts, looking towards the cave entrance and then back at you. Obviously weighing his options before he speaks again. “Finish stripping.” He orders, making you choke when you hear the deeper tone of his alpha thread through his command. 

Your eyes close, tears sliding down your cheeks as you obey him. Unable to look as you know that he does the same, preparing to take you. The flick of his leather belt makes you whimper, aware of what unmated alphas do to an unprotected omega. Most do not survive. 

The brush of steel being pulled from a scabbard makes your eyes shoot open after your shirt comes off, finding Pero standing in front of you - still dressed, with his back turned towards you. 

“I-” Astonished, you gape at the broad back of the Spaniard, standing with his legs braced as if anticipating an attack and his sword in one hand, his dagger in the other. 

“Do what you need to care for yourself.” He growls, turning his head slightly but not looking at you. “The others will not touch you.” He turns back his eyes on the entrance of the cave. 

“You- I thought-” You stammer slightly, his own pheromones reaching your nose and making you whine quietly. You can smell his arousal, his own need building and pushing through the stench of sweat and dirt. Still intoxicating and calling to your omega. His looks are dark and foreboding, but his scent is spicy and sweet. Powerful and calming. 

“I have killed,” Pero acknowledges easily. “Robbed people, lied, but I have never taken an unwilling woman, omega or no.” He re-grips his sword in his hand, as if reassuring himself of its presence. “I will not start now, omega.” He promises. “Make your nest.” 

You’re safe. The heat that rushes through you is nearly overwhelming. He is not going to force you to take his cock, to knot you while you are vulnerable. It should be a relief, but it actually just makes you want him to take you. The care of his gesture appealing to your omega, the need to be protected and cared for. 

Now naked, you arrange your bedroll and the few blankets that you have as best you can before you lay down. Watching his back and noticing how stiff he is standing. Your hands running over your skin and a soft moan echoes around the cave. 

Pero shivers, not as immune to your sounds and smells as he would have you believe. His cock hard beneath his trousers, but he cannot abuse you like so many others would. Garin had mentioned your changing smell in passing, both of them the only ones that were aware that you were a woman disguised as a man. He had assumed you were a beta, but now? Now you are in danger from the group. 

Your smell is sweet, calling to him. His own need is building in his loins and he knows that if you stick around, you will throw the entire party into a rut. He will have to kill most of them, although that would not be much of a loss to him. William will not touch you, but he is only one that Pero could guarantee. 

Your moans start to get louder, making him tense and catch the growl in his throat. Wanting to turn around and join you. To replace your fingers with his own and absorb all your sounds for himself. To give you his cock, his knot, and soothe the ache in your womb. To ride you until you are exhausted and filled, heat gone and your body needing rest. He wants to strip down and join you in your nest, caressing and biting your skin, shushing your whimpers and making you cry out for him. 

“Pero.” His body jolts, immediately on fire when he hears the plea in your ears. It’s not the same appeal you had given him when you were afraid he would throw you to the wolves. This is yearning, your omega starting to beg for him. “Alpha, please.” 

Pero closes his eyes, inhaling roughly and his cock is throbbing and leaking into his breeches. Harder than the steel of his blade and his own belly starting to tug harshly with a pain that catches him off guard. 

“Omega.” He hisses, trying to control himself but he shifts slightly, telling himself that he is getting a better view from beyond the horse’s rump, moving a step back towards you. Still he does not turn. 

“I need more.” You pain, your voice straining as you work yourself towards another orgasm. He can hear the slick sounds of your fingers pumping into your cunt and he groans, gripping his weapons so he doesn’t reach for his cock. “I- I- I need you, alpha.” 

There is only so much a man can take, spinning around, Pero growls at the wanton sight in front of him. You are presenting yourself to him, tits arched up and legs spread wide, fingers working furiously between them. His mouth waters and his cock manages to stiffen even more when the full scent of your need hits him. “You don’t mean that.” He grunts, his eyes darker than the moonless night and fixed on your body. 

“I do.” You whimper, rolling your hips and whining when it’s not what you need. What you need is right in front of you. An alpha. Strong and capable of breaking you, but knowing that he would not. He’s already been presented with the opportunity and means to take you. However, he had offered you protection. He had offered you the safety of his sword while you were so vulnerable. Now you want his other sword. “Knot me.” 

Pero’s eyes close and his weapons slip from his hands. Giving in to the call of your scent. Letting it fill his senses and consume him. Fingers reach for the buckles and straps of his armor, needing to be as bare as you are. Wanting to be what you need right now. “Omega.” He murmurs, opening his eyes and they are glowing with command and desire, his alpha completely taking over. 

You bite your lip, realizing that he is asking your permission to join you in the little nest of blankets. Making your heart soar in gratitude that you have found an alpha that shows omegas respects that long been forgotten in this cruel world. Watching him strip off and reveal the lean strength of his body under the layers of clothes and leathers. “Come to me.” You beg, pulling your fingers out of your cunt and reaching for him. Your eyes fixed on his heavy, leaking cock and yearning to feel him locked inside you with his knot. Unafraid for the first time since your body’s needs started to take over and your heat started. Whatever else might happen, right now you have a good alpha to give you what you need. 

[silkenwinger]

Umm so... Sexual favors/seduction gone wrong (or right) with Price... (mdni!!!)

It's not like you need money. Well, it's always nice to have it, for sure. But the job pays well already, as expected of a profession where you can always blow up in pieces.

What you seek is more along on the trail of glory, as lame as it sounds. You're a woman in an extremely male dominated field, and the very thing that has led you here is also driving you insane. Ambition, or the need to be on top at all times, is behind most of your professional choices.

Which is how you found yourself in this taskforce, anyway. Work as hard as a mule and you'll get somewhere. Except...

Well. It feels like you're not working enough. The accolades can't be there if you're not on duty most of the time, and you're doing a lot more paperwork than you're used to. You need, at the very least, the thrill of moving out and jumping out of a plane. Not obsessively checking if the printer is out of ink. This is not what Laswell had promised you.

You do have some experience with this team at least, and it has been positive. Soap and Ghost, for their eccentricities, are top notch soldiers. And John Price, your captain, is a decisive and confident man who rarely endangers his subordinates. Which is why you want to work with them. Seriously.

Seducing your boss is probably one of the lamest things you could do in your situation, straight up un-feminist, with no low chance of it blowing up in your face. But it has gotten to this point. And Price... well. If you can convince him, you get to sleep with an attractive older man and get more action (in all senses). If he rejects you, he'll be cavalier about it, you feel. You hope? You’ve seen him send you longer glances than appropriate at times. Probably not enough free time to get a real girlfriend. Your attention should be enough to mellow him to your liking. You’ll chat a bit, initiate contact, do the deed, and ask him. Linear, an exchange and a pleasurable means to an end.

Honeypot endeavors were never your specialty, but you have had sufficient training to know you need to be tempting and lend an ear to whatever ails your victim. Dressed as skin-thigh as possible with military issued clothes, you approach him in his office when it's already quite late, warm light haloing the desk. He's sitting there, reading some report or another, glasses perched on his nose and tired face.

You greet him chirpily, and he does the same a bit more mutely. He doesn’t say anything once you reach his desk, which sends you into a panic. He just looks at you with almost glazed eyes. Shit, you hadn’t counted on him being too exhausted to even consider your offer.

He raises one bushy eyebrow at your prolonged silence. You feel a rush of cold water running down your spine, but keep your smile open. Delicate.

“Just wished to know how you were doing,” you hear yourself saying, “besides the cold hard events said in briefings.”

He lets go of the paper that floats silently on the desk, and leans back on the armchair, arms crossed. His gaze is still appraising, and you think he may be biting his lower lip in thought, but it’s hard to tell with the diffused light. He recovers enough to speak to you, voice hoarse from disuse. 

“Something the matter on base?”

“Huh? No, not at all,” you reply, voice caught by surprise. His head tilts.

“Has anyone given you trouble?” He continues his inquiry, eyes thin, like he’s reading your very bones. You’re a bit uncomfortable with what seems to be genuine concern on his part.

“No, sir,” you laugh, embarrassed, “everything has been going well.” And then, for some reason unknown to you, the truth comes out of your mouth.

“I just really want to know what’s going on in the field. I’ve never been off active duty for so long…” you trail off once you realize you’ve let out much more than you wanted in the first place. Remembering why you came here in the first place, you take a step closer.

Price exhales, like the same thing has been bothering him for long. Which you doubt, seeing all the responsibilities he holds. Rolling his shoulders, he takes off his glasses and leans closer, elbows touching the desk, and you take another step.   

“I see why that would bother you. You have a brilliant record, sergeant. I don’t say that lightly. You’re very talented, but the latest missions needed small groups, and the other men and I have been working together for longer. That’s a special kind of bond that can’t be replicated without time and effort.” His tone is gentle, but the words destroy you all the same.

“Oh, well.” You breathe out, pointing your feet inwards, suddenly feeling both shame and sad anger raising inside you. So it was a you problem, and not instead sexism or whatever. You haven’t been here long enough, you haven’t bonded well enough, you don’t bring something special enough to make you stand out in any way. Swallowing, you raise your eyes again, meeting Price’s focused ones on you. The urge to cry bites at your cheeks, but you need to hold on, explain yourself before you can flee. Fuck, you didn’t even accomplish what you came here for.  

“I’m… I’ll do better. Whatever you need me to do, I will–” your voice trembles more than you want it to, but you get interrupted.

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been splendid, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning over, hand coming to hold yours, remarkably hotter to the touch than yours. He runs his thumb on your knuckles, a reassuring gesture. It feels like he’s an old time knight at the service of his queen.

“It was just a coincidence. I did not intend you to feel unvalued in this team. Hell, thank you for telling me instead of sulking for years like some others,” he smiles, eyes almost disappearing. You attempt a little smile, still not feeling satisfied with your explanation. But Price won’t hear any other plead, and he apologizes to you for not communicating better. 

You go back to your room with your heart in your hand and maybe something more. Your mission failed clamorously, but you don’t feel too bad about it, somewhat believing Price’s words. When two days later you get the call for a deployment in Russia, you almost skip all the way back to your quarters.

What you don’t expect, in the biting cold of the harsh climate, is for Price to keep you glued to his side. Before, you usually went with Soap, and once you did rec with Ghost. Instead, you’re now with Price for all the entirety of the mission. He keeps close, pointing things to you far closer than he needs to. The pat of his hand on your shoulder and his low good job at one of your shots prickle your nerves like you haven’t felt in a while.

When you finish the day, the two of you huddle up in a grim safehouse. At least the fire started. Removing your gear, you send a glance to Price, who’s also removing his boots. You feel genuine embarrassment when you remember your attempt some days ago. What were you even thinking? Cabin fever got to you, in a way…

Sitting on the couch in front of the fire, you warm your frosty toes, stretching your legs. It’s been a hard day, and maybe you really are out of shape, but you think you did okay. You feel Price sitting next to you, quite close, and when you turn, you see he’s removed all layers but his black, tight shirt and his pants. You suppose you should thank him.

“Captain, I’m honored you chose me to bring along today,” you say, earnestly. You almost bite off a chunk of chapped lips, hands under your knees. Price just laughs and takes an absolute paw of a hand to your hair, ruffling it. You scrunch your nose, happy to be building this bond that is so important in this task force. But then Price’s hand goes lower, to your cheek, briefly pinching it, and then to your neck. 

“You’re a good girl,” he says, hand still on your throat, just holding and not squeezing. Saliva pools in your mouth, unwillingly. You can only look at him with suspiciously wet eyes again.

“You really had my back today,” he adds, caressing your jaw. You let out some form of strangled noise, before you find your voice again.

“Captain-”

“Call me John,” he whispers, and you feel the slight sting of his moustache before you even realize he has gotten impossibly closer, and he’s kissing you, sweetly and not demanding. You keen, but lean into it, into him. Your hand comes to grip the short sleeve of his compression shirt. His hand brushes against your side, calming, cupping your breast, and then slithers inside your pants. He pats your cunt over your underwear then, and slides his fingers under it.

“You should relax more. You have nothing to worry about,” he mouths in your ear, and you nod. Your back is arching, and your foot is coming to support you from under as you open your legs more while he starts circling your clit. Behind your closed eyes, you can feel the fireplace’s heat and the one coming from him blending, becoming the same thing and surrounding you completely. His strokes are precise, like he’s done this to you a million times, and you can hear he’s muttering something in your ear still, but you’re not understanding the words. John slips two fingers inside your pussy, still going at your clit, and the sensations become close to overbearing, almost making you jump off the couch. But he keeps you steady and close to him with his other arm around your torso, playing with your tits from over the clothes. You come with a high pitched sound, covering your face, but his muttering has turned even softer, quieter, more reassuring as he removes his hand from your pants. You sniffle, glancing at John, and he’s got the fingers he had in you in his mouth without a care in the world. 

“You can sleep now, honey,” he says, matter of fact, like you’re husband and wife, and you feel a surge of affection for this man who took your concerns to heart and more. You wish you could do something for him, too, but you’re suddenly very sleepy. He lays you gently on your side and caresses your back.

Drowsy, with your head leaning on the couch’s arm, you can’t help feeling like you’ve been taught a real lesson on seduction.

[sualocin]

"I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you." Ch. 4 - Insurmountable Pain

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: everything you had wanted came true, if only just for a second of time. things are turned upside down quite quickly, and what happened to the guards?

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, graphic descriptions and mentions of blood, violence and blood, commodus being a HUGE dick

word count: 2.8k (whoops)

a/n: i spent wayyyyy too long on one section of this chapter lmao. i can guarantee no one can guess what one it is. also more commodus pov stuff because i am a sucker for it and his internal monologue. as always ignore any plot holes because i am small-brained and can't remember my own dang plot

not beta'd

blog dividers by @cafekitsune!

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

It felt like Commodus had died and arrived in Elysium when your arms wrapped around him, face pressed so harshly against his chest. Gods you smelled delectable, a mix of pomegranate and rose. Such a scent should be outlawed in a way so that only you may wear it. He had held back a sigh when you first launched yourself into his arms. For you had sought comfort in him, him! His thoughts ran like mad. He needed to have you closer, to feel the warmth of your body against his, for you to be the only thing in his senses. But all he could do in that moment was to cradle you into himself, holding you tightly against him to help soothe whatever ails you. It would be enough for now, just to have this moment alone with you. His desires could wait, if only to make sure you were okay. 

Commodus could feel you shifting in his arms, most likely restless from being held stationary for so long. It was time for the embrace between you two to end, even though he (and you) definitely did not want it to. Before he lets you pull away though, he gives you a single kiss to your hairline. A show of affection towards you in an effort to comfort you. When you had pulled just back enough for him to be able to see your face, your eyes were now void of tears and a kind smile was stretched across your face. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest at the sight. His cheeks flushed as an awkward smile graced his lips, too awestruck by your natural beauty to do much else. What he wouldn’t do to have you smile like that at him more often. What he wouldn’t do to have you nestled in his arms always.

“Are you feeling better, my love?” Commodus asks, rosy cheeks and delightful smile still on his face. You’re not faring any better you think, cheeks burning and heart racing. All you want to do is bury yourself in his chest and hide there forever, but the ache in your head and the tiredness of your body deems that it is time to get some sleep. Much to your chagrin though.

“I am indeed, sweet Commodus,” You reply, going all in on the terms of endearments to match his enthusiastic use. His smile grows, eyes closing as he lets out a chuckle at the words. The Gods really did make him in their image, didn’t they? From the bronze laurel crown bestowed upon his tousled dark hair, to the bejeweled rings spread amongst his fingers, it was as if the goddess Venus handcrafted every part of his being before you. You should make an offering at one of her temples as thanks for her hard work, you think. 

“Good…” Commodus says, before moving his hands up to cup your face and pulling it closer to his own. His eyes are half lidded, and glance down to your lips before he brings them back up to look into your eyes. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks, slowly and deliberately as he waits for something, anything that shows that you do not want what he wants. Seeing no recoil or disgust crossing your features at his closeness, he takes a shaky breath in.

“Would it…Can I kiss you, my love?” Commodus pleads, with a needy look in his eyes. Hoping to the Gods above he did not misread anything about the past moments spent with you, he desperately wants you to say yes. He needs you to say yes. His entire self-worth feels like it may crumble down if you decline him, that he himself will turn to dust if you refuse. 

“I-Gods please,” You whisper, cutting off his ever declining line of thoughts. Commodus breathes out in relief, and moves ever so slowly closer to you. Your breath fans out across his face, both his and your eyes close in sync. Your lips meet, and he is once again thrust into a cascade of bliss. If simply hugging you was Elysium, then kissing you was like ascending to god-hood. Your lips were plush, soft, and slightly salty from the dried remains of your tears. But the taste, oh the taste, it was as if you were the nectar of the Gods. Forbidden to mortals, yet still a delicacy enjoyed in secret, Commodus felt like he should be punished for having the slightest taste of you. He wanted more, needed more. But you pulled away too soon for his liking, much too soon. 

“That was wonderful,” You sighed breathlessly, cheeks aflame. The kiss was so tender, like he was pouring all of his sincerest emotions into it. It was better than anything you could have imagined, but it had to end. Even if it felt right, Commodus still had many previous grievances to make up for before he could fully pull you in. The hurt you felt at his performance unfortunately didn’t disappear with a few sweet words and a mind-melting kiss from him. He needed to put forth the effort to right his own wrongs, and he needed to show you that he was truly sorry for his actions before you would welcome him into your arms. All your inner turmoil quietens when he smiles so gently at you, but it is not forgotten.

“What is on your mind, my dearest?” He asks, seeing the far-away look in your eyes. His thumbs continue their caresses, the feeling almost making you dismiss what he put you through in order to receive more. The gentle touches and endearments he was spouting were but a mere diversion away from all the damage left by his previous endeavors, making you fill your thoughts with how loving he could be. You needed your space empty of him if you were going to get the words out. You couldn’t let him use his sweet remarks and his even sweeter touches to dissolve the previous animosity you held towards him. Finally, you step back and out of his hold, his face shifting into curiosity at the movement and mouth opening to say something. But you couldn’t let him speak, you had to let him know that this moment doesn’t absolve him from his deeds.

“Commodus,” You begin, taking a deep breath before continuing. His mouth snapped shut at hearing his name, jaw starting to tense and his eyes starting to harden but a smile still plastered over his face.

“These sweet words and even sweeter gestures do not erase the hurt and pain you caused me with your behavior. I need you to know this, and to understand this; The distress I felt because of you cannot be forgotten so easily,” You start to explain. His once kind and loving gaze turned to anger at your words. You swallowed, a grimace appearing on your face. You were afraid that the rage growing inside of him was going to be lashed out upon you. For you had seen the aftermath of one of his outbursts, the cause of said outburst being slapped to the ground and taken away to who knows where. They were never seen again, but their screams could be heard in the quiet of that night. But in a sense of control, he sighed and released the tension held in his body, eyes closing so as to not gaze upon your face and hands dropping to his sides. He spoke before you were able to continue. 

“I understand Y/N,” The cold and detached tone of his voice sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine. Commodus abruptly turns and walks away from you, not even any parting words leave his mouth. You had royally pissed him off it seems, as he reverted into his paranoid and angry self at the unexpected confrontation. His cape billows behind him as he turns a corner, walking further out of your view. What did you just do?

For the days and weeks after that night, it was as if he avoided you even more than before. He was absent at meal times, and no longer training in the courtyard as well. Was it you bringing up his previous actions that did this? You had to do so,  you couldn’t have forgiven him that easily. Surely he must have known that.  If only you could talk to him again and explain yourself further. Explain that you needed him to show that he cared for you at every moment, and not just the ones hidden from view. Maybe that would snap him out of this avoidance routine, maybe that would bring the sweet and caring Commodus from that night back. 

You searched the palace for any sight of him, even asking Lucilla if she had seen him (which was no mind you). There was no glimpse of him anywhere, as if he had just vanished into the darkness after that night. It was terrifying to think that this was because of you, because of your words. You would take them back in a heartbeat if he had asked. At least when he was ignoring you, you could still see him. Still bask in his presence. But total avoidance? It felt like it was killing you not being able to see him, not being able to apologize. Though you really had nothing to apologize for after all. You had tried to talk with Lucilla again, a few weeks into the whole ordeal, to at least elaborate on what you had meant to finish saying that night. Just in case she was seeing and talking to Commodus, but she was not. He had not even approached her since that day. Lucilla was lost on what was happening anyways, not knowing what had really occurred between you two that night. But even with all of her great wisdom, she couldn’t say anything to make it better.

The date of the wedding was just a day away when you gave up trying to look for him. Being constantly pulled this direction and that for your input and to be measured for your dress, which you still hadn’t seen yet, took all of your attention and energy. None could be put into trying to find and talk to Commodus. Lucilla had done her best to keep you company throughout all of it however, giving her input when requested. Even Lucius came bounding by to see you occasionally, but he kept his talking to a minimum at his mother’s behest to not overwhelm you. It was hard, going through all of this almost truly alone. Everything felt wrong and out of place without Commodus’ presence. Gods you missed him. You missed the quiet and gentle side he showed you that night, you missed the clever remarks he hurled at scribes that came to bother him during meals. You missed every part of him with every fiber of your being. And it hurt, it hurt to know that you had caused your own loneliness in some way.

You had retired early to what were considered your chambers for the last night before the wedding. Being constantly needed for various issues and tasks was physically and mentally tiring. Sitting down on the edge of your bed, your mind decides now is the perfect time to wander. Did that night mean nothing to him? It meant the world to you. Commodus was able to walk away so easily from it, did he truly care about you? He had at long last shown you some semblance of kindness, but he walked away when you were about to ask him to display it more often. He had jumped to conclusions that were not put forth by you before you could do so. He did that himself though, and it was high time that you realized it was not your fault.

Two rapid knocks on the door pulled you away from your thoughts. You weren’t expecting a visitor the night before your wedding. Recognizing the guards' knocks however,  you decided to let the visitor in anyway. Must be important if they wanted to disturb you after you declared you were done for the day. You didn’t have time to stand up before the door opened and an unfamiliar face waltzed in like he owned the place. In the short glance you get of the hallway before the doors close, you can see both of the guards stationed there crumpled on the floor, crimson liquid pooling underneath them. Your heart feels like it stopped, and icy fear runs up your spine. Whoever this guy is, he is not here to be friendly. Your eyes finally shift over to the man who had decided to casually mess with your things. In his right hand is a steel dagger dripping with blood, but no wounds are apparent on his body. How did he manage to kill both guards so quickly and quietly? They were members of the praetorian guard, some of the most trained soldiers in Rome. How could they fall so easily?

“I would have thought the Empress-to-be would have much nicer things,” The man comments, putting down a trinket given to you by your parents before your departure. He turns towards you, finally giving you a good look at his face. He almost looks like an average citizen of Rome, except there’s no emotion in his eyes. There’s no emotion on his face at all. The unknown man tilts his head at your frightened state, moving closer to get a better look at you. You shuffle backwards until your back ends up hitting the wall the bed is placed against, just to try and get away from him.

“I was supposed to kill you tomorrow night, but when you’re left all alone like this? I couldn’t refuse the opportunity,” He says, crawling onto the bed towards you and lifting the bloodied dagger to your cheek. He runs it along your cheekbone, easily slicing open the skin and letting your blood slowly drip out. The fear and adrenaline running rampant in your system numbs the sting to a degree, but you still flinch at the pain. He smiles at that, enjoying the reaction he pulled out of you. He takes pleasure in harming others it seems. 

“I was told to make it hurt. To kill you so viciously that the ‘Emperor’,” He puts quotation marks around the word before continuing.

“Feels nothing but fear, knowing it will be his turn soon,” The man explains before moving his dagger downward towards your left thigh. His grin turns sickly, and he laughs before raising the dagger high and plunging it into your thigh. A hand quickly places itself over your mouth, covering the scream of pain you let out. He shushes you like a child.

“You don’t want to ruin the surprise for your lovely husband-to-be, don’t you? Sure there’s no one around, but we can’t have you spoiling that,” He mocks you. All you can feel besides hot tears running down your face, is a painful burning sensation located right where the dagger is still embedded into your thigh. But that burning feeling is amplified the moment the man starts to slowly pull the dagger out, blood flowing out of the open wound he created. If you weren’t stabilized by the wall behind you, you would have surely collapsed by now. The man raises the dagger again, this time to your neck, and slices. It's not a deep enough wound to kill you, but still deep enough to have blood start dribbling out of it slowly.

“Tell me, does he even love you? If he did he wouldn’t have a measly two guards standing outside your door. He wouldn’t have you so far away from everyone else. So vulnerable,” He taunts you, hand still clamped over your mouth. You clench your eyes shut at his harsh words. On some level, they ring partially true. Why were you placed so far away from everyone else with only two guards? No, now was not the time to think about this. You had to put your mind towards surviving. However slim the chance was.

“You’re getting crowned ‘Empress of Rome’ tomorrow aren’t you? Too bad you won’t live to see it,” The man grins, disgustingly rotten breath blowing into your face. You can feel your own blood soaking into the bed, creating a blooming red stain. The tears that run down your cheeks merge with some of the blood from the cut on your cheekbone, turning into pinkish droplets that splatter onto your once pristine ivory stola. He brings the dagger up to your stomach now, moving to carve the words ‘nemini parco’ into it. The dagger isn’t cutting deep into your flesh, but the pain enveloping you feels like no other. All you can do is let out small whimpers and sobs as he carves, immobilized by the pain. He finished carving the first word when the door to your chambers was thrown open.

translations: nemini parco - i spare no one

i love me some cliff hangers LMAOOOOO

chapter 5 probably won't be up until friday due to college work :p

thank you for reading as always (人´∀`)

tag list: @capitanostella , @five-miles-over

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Matt Davies

* * * *

President Carter, may you have fair winds and following seas

Steve Schmidt

President Carter was one of the six presidents who was born in the first 25 years of the 20th century.

Those six presidents led America between 1960 and 1992, before the first baby boomer was elected.

During this speech President Carter talked about the trauma faced by that generation specifically, and the country in general. He talked about the loss of faith, trust and belief in the future that was taking hold and was being driven by many factors. He painted a picture of the road that would lead to Donald Trump 37 years later.

Jimmy Carter reached out to the American people, and spoke a truth that hurt him politically, but this speech was among the most profound an American president has ever given about the American spirit.

He diagnosed a growing lassitude that was driven by consumerism and emptiness. His entire life was a living devotional towards resisting the temptations of a meaningless life for a principled one. He never cashed in, and never changed anything in which he believed. His convictions were backed by deeds. His wisdom should be better known.

There has never been an American president that lived as long as Jimmy Carter, and no American citizen lived longer as a former president than Jimmy Carter. His life has ended, and all of the politics and recriminations, judgements, actions and decisions of a life that has endured for almost 100 years are gone now.

What is left is the full record of an American icon, global statesman, Navy submariner, Sunday school teacher and recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. He was married to his wife Rosalynn for 77 years.

Every person who knows him says the same thing. They all say that the Jimmy Carter who became the most powerful man in the world came home as the same Jimmy Carter who left. He led a life of service and integrity.

He was a peacemaker who loved his country, and served it long and well. He was the last surviving member of the generation that fought and won the Second World War, and kept the peace in the dangerous hours of the Cold War.

Wherever there was suffering and injustice in the world the oppressed peoples knew of Jimmy Carter and what he stood for because he stood for them. He stood for the American idea and ideal all through his noble life.

The American people should take a moment and say a prayer of gratitude for Jimmy Carter. Whatever ails America, it still produces people like Jimmy Carter.

Godspeed, Mr. President, on your last journey.

May you have fair winds and following seas.

Thank you for all of your service to America and to all of humanity.

[Steve Schmidt]

+

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

William Shakespeare‬

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Harry looking for you at the Kingsman base after the argument…

Part 1 | Part 2

At the Kingsman base, Harry caught Merlin in the hallway and halted his friend for a brief moment.

“May I have a word?” Harry requested.

Merlin lowered his clipboard and looked at the man. “Finally cooled off from whatever ailed you?” He asked pointedly.

Harry merely blinked back. The only way Merlin would have known about his mood was if you had confided in him. And judging from the harsh and unimpressed look, you had done exactly that.

“Y/n told you then.” He surmised.

Merlin raised a hand and adjusted his glasses. “It was discussed when your significant other was on my front porch at an ungodly hour.”

It didn’t surprise Harry that you had turned to Merlin. He was a loyal friend through and through. It also brought him comfort that you were under a safe roof.

“Were they upset?”

Merlin cleared his throat. “Not quite.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Gods Merlin, did I make them cry?” He asked, voice becoming more fretful as he spoke.

Merlin merely squinted back. “Actually, I talked Y/n out of poisoning your stores of liquor.” He answered with a small head shake of disapproval. “Always a theatrical anger with that one.”

The shoulders under the finely pressed suit sagged with relief. At least he hadn’t made you cry. Harry had done so once and he still hadn’t forgiven himself for it.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”

Merlin scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “They laced it with a potent sleeping agent instead. Confessed to it this morning.”

Harry thought back to your scent still in the house and the drink he almost sipped in the kitchen. A small shudder escaped. Softening his demeanour, Harry spoke again. “Where are they now?”

“The instructions said to, and I quote, ‘find me when you’re ready’.” Merlin replied. “This one’s for you to fix, Galahad.”

Part 1 | Part 2

~ More imagines here ~

Tags: @leylovestaytay

[moronkombat]

Can I request bi-han,tomas and kuai Liang with a pregnant s/o? PLEASEEE 🙏

yes yes yes yes YES YES YES YOU CAN I LOVE WRITING THIS STUFF YES YOU CAN ALWAYS REQUEST THIS

Kuai Liang:

He is so soft and gentle with you. While he has always been affectionate he is more forward with it

This often looks like him embracing you in a manner that seems just so delicate and careful. Normally when he wraps his arms around you it is with strength and conviction but this time it much more gentle

When you are ailing, he stays right by your side. His duties as head of the Shirai Ryu go second. He has Tomas take charge then while he dedicates his time to you

Often times, Kuai Liang wishes to lay in bed with you, his head near the life that grows within you and then he sings and hums soft lullabies

When his partner begins to show, his hands are constantly laid atop your abdomen. The first kick he feels has his eyes welling with tears and he thanks you. For what you aren't exactly sure but you're not about to ask him when there is such a look of tranquility about him

Overall he is calm and very collected throughout it all. Your emotions rule you while his are there to help you. He loves you and he loves your baby. It's almost as if he's waited his entire life to have a moment like this

If you baby is a boy, he names the child after his father. You do not protest this as you know how important that is for him

Tomas:

Tomas is excited, over the moon with joy and elation. He picks up you, twirls you around. He's wanted this for so long. A family, his family, he's going to have a family

He is very catering to your needs and will do whatever he cans to help his partner through his experience.

He still very aware of his duties to the Shirai Ryu and takes them very seriously but there's this understanding between him and Kuai Liang so his responsibilities conveniently seem to lessen when his partner is pregnant

Tomas' favorite thing to do is lay his head so very gently against your stomach and just close his eyes and imagine the future of his little family

When he sleeps next to you, his hand is always draped across your abdomen, never once does it waver

Before the two of you fall asleep, he talks to you about all he wants to do with you and the baby once they are born. He's so starry eyed about it and he talks about it until he ends up falling asleep

He would name the baby after his either his sister, mother or father

Bi-Han

Nervous. Scared, shaken and petrified. He has not the first idea of what it means to be a father. His own relationship with his father was so strained, will it be that way for him to?

He doesn't want it to be but his thoughts are consumed with all the what ifs even when your baby is not yet born

Not only is he nervous of becoming a father, he is nervous that something may happen to you. What if something goes wrong? what if you get sick?

Bi-Han is very firm with having you stay well rested and practically not lifting a finger during your pregnancy

Even when stepping up and down the stairs, he needs someone walking with you. What if you trip?

He is involved as much as he can be but Bi-Han does not pull himself away from his duties of being the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. If you are pregnant after the split between him and his brothers, he has even less time with you

You keep him up to date with everything though and he appreciates it. He wants to know how all the doctor appointments went and is often seeking second opinions just to ensure you are truly healthy and that your baby is too

During those moments when you and him have that time together, he is usually quiet and reserved. He prefers to sit next to you and hear your voice while he occasionally touches your growing stomach. He thinks then what it would be like to hold your baby. How small would they be? Would they cry? Would they smile? He doesn't know but he wants to

He would name the baby something proud and regal. A strong sounding name that carries weight and merit

[chaoticallywriting]

Animals ⋋Chapter One⋌

A/N: Thank you to all the love that I've received over the prologue! I did change the name from Beastly to Animals for all those who may be confused. It just felt better. This will be updated every Saturday unless otherwise stated. As always, thank you so much to @blitzs-largest-horsiest-dildo for proof reading this for me <3

Pairing: Silco x Reader (eventual/slow burn), Viktor x reader (past/ex's)

Summary: Heartbroken and disgraced from your lifelong dream coming to a halt and the only person you've ever loved abandoning your scientific pursuit. You decide to turn towards a newfound Kingpin in the city you once called your home in hopes of making your dreams come true.

Warnings: Classism, arguing, theft, lack of self care, mentions of prostitution, mentions of nausea, mentions of teenagers operating bars, poverty

WC: 4.7

Before // After // AO3

So maybe in your haste to pack you might have stolen your shared savings that you had both stored away in a floorboard under your mattress. Maybe you were using said savings to get a cheap apartment in the Undercity and maybe you spent the first four days wallowing in bed while combating a nasty cold.

You were never the one to get sick, always tried to keep yourself healthy so you could watch over Viktor. Never stayed in the cold for long, always kept yourself warm, tried to eat regularly. You wonder how he is, if he's figured out it's over. If he's missing your fingers in his hair like you're missing his. Is he peering out at the nasty weather in your old apartment, wallowing as you are?

You'd shared goals with Viktor, or so you thought. You whispered them while you were meant to be sleeping as teenagers, after you moved in with him and his ailing mother. She worked doubles despite her horrid cough just so he wouldn't have to work and to thank her for letting you share a bed with him, you ended up working at some dodgy bar near the pier. Should a fifteen year old be pouring beer? Probably not in Piltover, but in the Undercity a job was a job, and if you were old enough to wipe your own ass then chances were you were old enough to do whatever brought in cash.

But those nights, the ones where your legs would tangle under the threadbare blanket on his bed due to the lack of room and his arm would wrap around you, that was when you'd whisper about your dreams. All you wanted was to make the Undercity a better place, and more specifically wished to clean out the water that the city got it's main food source from. The fish were as questionable as the air in the mines or the quality of light and so no one batted an eye if one of those bad boys had three extra fins or if the insides held a concerning green hue. If it didn't immediately kill you then it would only make you stronger. A motto used in many establishments.

The water was highly toxic, toxic enough that it made being a fisherman one of the most dangerous careers in the Undercity. Spending all day out in those oil slicked waters, fingers getting nicked from fish hooks and then soaked in the salty, polluted amalgamation Piltover tried to pass off as 'safe'. The life expectancy of a fisherman was short and children were told to be grateful your pops lasted as long as he did.

You were meant to clean the waters, and then use the money made from your purifier to fund the medical research needed to keep Viktor and so many other street rats alive. To clear their lungs of the pollution constantly swirling inside, embedding itself into the very lining of such a vital organ. But it's gone, all of it.

On the fifth day you finally get up and shower, you've been surviving off of stale crackers and slop from a food stall right outside your building. The lack of proper nutrition left you a bit nauseous and swaying lightly as you take the stairs down to the busy streets two at a time. From your brief time apartment hunting (if you can call taking the first place you found apartment hunting) you learned there had been a shift in power recently. While the infamous Vander hadn't necessarily in charge of the Undercity, he had helped keep it afloat.

Back when you had spoken to the landlord of this mold infested joint, he had offered you one of his cheap cigarette's. After quickly declining he had waddled over to the counter of your new kitchen and blown a puff of smoke into your face. His voice was raspy as he muttered to you about the recent happenings in the Lanes. "Now that new big shot's got some drug gettin' sold in the clubs and a' bars. Don't get hung up on that shit, I don't need any a' my tenants usin' rent money on some glowin' purple liquid."

"Big shot?" It had been years since you lived in the Undercity and they didn't exactly have a newspaper to help keep their citizens up to date on recent happenings. Word of mouth was the best you'd get, so you pried some more but all he had to offer was how a bunch of important people wound up dead a couple weeks ago. Roughly around the same time that big explosion happened at Jayce's apartment. Stupid fucking Hextech.

Now the Last Drop is under construction. You needed more information, and there were certain places in this city that got information faster and more accurately than anywhere else. One place in particular was so popular and high in demand that just about any half decent girl born in these slums had debated trying out for a spot on the staff just to get them off the streets. Babette's.

The Brothel had been around since before you were born and potentially before your own mother was born too. She had briefly worked there before meeting your dad and some of the older staff members had always been kind to you in passing. They made sure to treat the girls like family, so if you were related to one? Well then it was your lucky day.

It's early enough that the place is practically desolate, the front rooms near the entrance are empty, being cleaned by the back of house staff, and the sounds coming from nearby bedrooms are few and far between. You pass them all, heading straight for the office you had last gone into in order to say goodbye to the woman in charge. Now you're rapping your knuckles against the worn wood, nose scrunching as the intense fragrances of a nearby incense wafts over to you. The citrus scented smoke only serves to remind you of your lack of breakfast as your stomach almost turns.

A muffled, "come in," comes from a worn voice you'd recognize anywhere. You venture inside the office where an elderly Yordle sits behind a wooden desk that looks nicer than most pieces found in this city. A cigarillo is held between two of her fingers and the usually jovial expression seems replaced by something mournful. She's somehow aged ten years and somehow you know it must be because of the rumored deaths at the warehouse.

Her expression only softens upon spotting you, eyes saddening even further. The cigarillo gets dropped into a metal ash tray and suddenly she's up and walking towards you. "I thought you escaped."

So did you. All you can offer is a shrug and a watery smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Soon the yordle is beckoning you and you're bending over to hug her so tightly she might just pop like a balloon. But she doesn't, she only hugs you back.

"Oh honey, what happened? Did something happen to Viktor?"

His name only furthers your tears, causing cracks along the mental dam you've been building over the past few days. You grip at her lascivious robe, breaths coming out a little choked for a minute or two. Only a minute or two. You can't keep losing it, you won't let yourself. You got out of bed determined to fix this shit. Crying won't do anyone any good.

"He abandoned our research, found someone new with a shinier idea." Before you can stop yourself, you're confessing everything to her, sparing no details. You watch as her eyes begin to blaze when you mention getting tossed out like some kind of vermin. At this point she's managed to coax you into one of her arm chairs that reek of smoke and cheap perfume. She rings a bell for tea and some porridge, something hearty to help fill your empty stomach. Your exhaustion and poor self care must be obvious because she stirs in some honey to your porridge before handing it to you. Part of you wishes she had taken you in as a teenager instead of Milena and Viktor, maybe then your heart wouldn't feel like it's been split in two.

But Babette had known a brothel was no place for a teenager, despite the dubious ages of most of the working class in this city. Even if you'd just lived with her, you still would've been connected to this place, and she always said it'd drag you down if you stayed. Everyone thought you were too brilliant to be tied to this city, but now your here and he's up there.

"I heard," you say after swallowing a mouthful of hot porridge. Your tongue burns from it, but you find yourself barely caring. "That Vander died?"

There was a time when you were far younger, before the attempted revolution on the bridge, where it seemed most of the Undercity was finally a united front. There was still crime, still backstabbing, but it had become scarce among fellow street rats. Instead foreigners were targeted for pick pocketing and scams. Your dad had spoken a few times about secret meetings over oily boxes of Jericho's only for your mom to flick a clump of rice at his face in return. 'I won't become a widow just because you let some smooth talker convince you to become one of their soldiers.'

He'd grunt and pout the rest of the meal, pushing around his fried tentacles before little eleven year old you would dart for one of them. The mood would lift and all would be forgotten.

"Yeah, him and three of his kids. Rumor has it he's got the living one locked up somewhere. No one's seen her."

That's darker than you expected. Messed up shit happens all the time in the Fissures but it's still a shock, especially when there's kids involved. There was a time when there was so few that made it past the first couple months, before the filtration system had been put in place. Children were a rarity and teenagers were shocking. You were told stories of that dark time seeing as you were one of the few born right before the air ducts were built.

While you remained fine with lungs relatively untouched, the kids in your age group were sparse. Viktor wasn't as fortunate as you were, but you both had a theory that genetics also played a part in his misfortune. With his mother passing away from a common and supposedly incurable illness. Right now it was mainly just his leg and an occasional cough during winter, but that same cough is how it started for her.

"Listen, kid. . ." She relights her long forgotten cigarillo, smoke swirling through the room as the elderly mistress inhales deeply. Her fingers rub against the worn paper, lips pressing into a thin line. "If you can get back into Piltover, do it. Shit's changin' and I can't promise it's for the best."

She means well, she's only saying this because she cares. You try to remind yourself of this but you find yourself setting the half empty bowl down with a roll of your eyes. There's nothing left up there, nothing to go back to. You both destroyed your chances; him with you and you with… Well everything. You stole from him, destroyed academy equipment, and called those enforcers variety of colorful names. They probably laughed about you to their coworkers over drinks that night. Probably didn't care if you wound up dead after tossing you out like trash. You go up there and you lose your pride. Which is just about all you have left. You'd rather scrape your way through the underbelly of this city than lose that.

"Who's the big bad that's got everyone all scared?" With a lofted brow you pick up your chipped cup of tea that is mostly lukewarm. It has copious amounts of honey in it, just the way you like it. "I was born and raised here, I've dealt with Undercity assholes and Piltover assholes. You know how many guys I've fucked up from my days bar tending."

She stares into your eyes and you simply stare back as you sip your tea. Your stubbornness is something many hate, it's a trait you've been told to work on all your life. But your mom was stubborn just like you, and Babette always found it endearing. Until now, it seems, at least you think so. You aren't one of her girls, she can't frighten you with stern motherly love. So after a few beats, once your tea is almost gone, she finally speaks.

The new big shot (as your landlord dubbed him) is named Silco. An ex revolutionist who ran 'The Children of Zaun'. He helped organize the big bridge riot all those years ago and for some time he went quiet, licked his wounds, or well, according to Babette, his wound. "It's frightening, unnatural. Nothing is normal in this city but that reeks of the kind of shady dealings that'll get you in Stillwater."

He's responsible for all their deaths. Apparently some big fight happened at his old hideout, some abandoned factory. But that was blown to smithereens so he's taken his seat at his new throne. The Last Drop.

Most of the coziness has apparently already been torn away. Neon lights and some big addition to the back are being constructed. And the purple liquid Mr. Landlord mentioned? Babette calls it shimmer, well first she calls it bad news and then she specifies that it's actually called shimmer. Some new drug that tops all the others, that's dangerous beyond dangerous and yet-

"So he's a chemist?"

"I didn't say that, he's just the one distributing it. I don't think Silco could make shimmer himself. That wasn't his specialty."

You frown, calloused hands gripping your empty tea cup. "But he has to know who made it if he's distributing it. Which means he knows an extremely skilled chemist. At least if this stuff is as bad as you're saying."

She scoffs and slides off her chair. Her cigarillo has since burnt out and despite the fact that it's barely midday, she heads straight for her bar cart. She uncorks some bottle with a worn label on it, pouring herself a glass with her hunched back facing you. "It is bad, kid. The worst. I know you wanna make everything better but a guy like Silco will just destroy whatever it is. He's not a good guy anymore, not since the bridge."

"I'm not saying he's a good guy, Babette. I bet the chemist is an ass too. But my idea, it could make them millions and if you're telling me he once wanted to make this city a better place then-"

"Shimmer won't make this city better," she interjects. Her glass is already empty, so she fills it again. "He just wants power. Please , for once, listen to me."

The stroll you take around the docks does little to quell your thoughts. You have two options and both aren't looking so great. Option one, you listen to Babette and maybe get a job bar tending again to make ends meet. You try to scrape together the materials you need for your purifier and hopefully stumble across a biochemist worthy of helping with your project. If you don't manage either of those then you drink every bar in the Undercity into closure.

Option two, while far riskier, holds a much higher reward. You break your promise to Babette and find a way to talk to this Silco man. You manage to work alongside his biochemist and make your childhood home the thriving community you always envisioned. Whilst potentially only drinking one bar into closure.

If for some reason you can't convince the big bad one eyed monster, then either he kills you or you go back to option one. Which, in some ways, will most likely be worse than death. Giving up on your dream, scraping to get by, letting go of the last speck of joy in your life.

As you reach the end of a pier, the oil slick water comes into view. Swirls of pinks, greens, and yellows all float along the surface, looking like some kind of gorgeous painting that would be held in a pretentious gallery in Piltover. But it's not art, it's how your people live. It's what killed your father and continues to slowly kill so many others. A school of four eyed fish swim by, bodies swaying through the thickened waters.Hope flickers in your chest, a familiar flame that's felt doused in this tumultuous time. You can still make a difference.

Maybe by the time Babette finds out you broke your promise, your purifier could be done and she'd see that what you did was worth it. If not then, well, the Undercity is used to losing people. At this point the only person left who would even notice is the old Yordle herself. Your parents are dead and you sort of isolated yourself growing up. You'd clung to Viktor and stuck your nose up at others. Occasionally you'd let Skye come around but it always made your stomach twist with how she gazed at him. You know it's the same way you look looked at him. Like he hung the moon and painted the stars. Like you'd die if you didn't feel the brush of his lips against your own.

The taste of salt jars you and your shaking fingers brush against wet droplets gliding down your cheeks. Perhaps coming to the docks wasn't the best idea, it always made you feel sad, as reminders of your dad often did. Your heart is already so fragile right now. With a slight scrunch of your nose you aggressively wipe at your eyes and take a deep breath. The salty ocean air offers a slight change of pace from the Undercity's smokey streets and the stifling halls of the academy. You welcome it, even as the slight burn from the pollution clings to your throat.

You can't let others hold you back anymore, not Viktor or Babette. You know she means well but you need this like you need air. This idea is all you have and you cling to it like some fiend desperate for their next fix. It's not worth living if you can't have this, perhaps you could have been placated with a simple life in the shadows, if you had him with you.

But you don't.

Your feet carry you back to your shoddy fourth floor walk up apartment as you think of how you need to make this work. The idea of turning the Undercity into a better place with your invention and ideas not only thrills you because of the positive change that would come of it but because it would feel like the perfect revenge. A middle finger to your ex, a way to shove in his face everything he gave up.

Moving quickly, you shove everything you need back into your bag before rushing off once more with a slam of your door. You almost forget to lock it in your haste for your destination. Just like you almost miss the last step of the stairs or how you continuously bump into others as you race through the streets. This is the most invigorated you've felt in weeks, even before the breakup. Viktor had been coming home later and spending less time in the lab, and it had made you feel invisible, like your work meant nothing. But right now as your boots smack against uneven cobblestone your heart races with that same feeling you get right before you solve an equation. Like that last puzzle piece has finally been found.

So Babette will never know of you standing in front of the Last Drop as construction workers wrap rope around a metal beam and use a pulley system to lift it up into the air. She'll never know of you gripping your bag that's full of paper and journals and your metal model. Babette will think you're at home, wallowing as you told her you would be. Crying over a broken heart instead of marching past two frightening looking men that stand on either side of the double doors. Shoving Jericho's into your mouth instead of side stepping piles of building materials and loose nails.

Maybe she thinks you'll go looking for a cat to suffocate with all your sadness, not sliding up to the bar where some lanky kid is pouring over blueprints. "Hi," you say as you totally don't break your promise to Babette.

The guy, who couldn't be older than maybe seventeen, jerks his head full of greasy hair up to you. His eyes shoot up to his brows, lips smacking before stuttering out "oh we aren't open yet! Uh, if you're here for the lunch delivery you just leave the food at that booth over there." He shoves his pencil in the direction of the booth, waggling it for emphasis.

You just shake your head, fingers tapping against the sawdust covered bar. "I'm here to see Silco."

His face reminds you of a fish fresh from being caught. Right after your dad would pull the hook from their mouth, they'd just sort of gape at you. This must be his first job, you can't recall being this nervous at the bar but then again, that felt like eons ago. The sounds of construction from outside fill the awkward silence that follows, sawmills, hammering, curse words and shouts. The usual.

"Is he here?…"

"No one is allowed to go see him. He's busy."

"I get that, but I've got something he might wanna see."

For all his awkwardness he finally regains some semblance of normalcy, at least the kind of normalcy you'd see on any other kid. He drops the pencil onto the counter that is littered in papers and blue prints and shakes his head, letting out a deep huff.

"He'll be mad if I interrupt him. I'm sorry. Maybe uh, mention it to the guys by the door and they can tell him you came by. They actually talk to him . . . Sometimes. I've never talked to him. Or seen him, I just bring the contractors whatever they ask fo- Oh shit they asked me for these blueprints!" He scrambles to grab fistfuls of the paper, pencil clattering to the floor and suddenly he's off.

Leaving you alone. In the building that Silco is supposedly in. Hmm, your feet drag you towards a cramped looking staircase to the left of the bar. The mezzanine above is small, just shoddy wooden railing, maybe five steps and then a door. To the left you can hear construction just past the wall, this must be where they plan to expand. You wonder what's included in this grand idea of his, maybe a special murder room? The way Babette spoke of him he sounds like he'd want a place to beat up innocent people.

Only one more obstacle. There's another beefy guy in front of this door. He's not all nervous and unsure like the kid below, instead he's standing with his chest puffed out and his hands clasped in front of him. He's got a gun strapped to his waist and arms the size of your head. You aren't a fighter, you're a scientist, an engineer to be specific. You can throw a decent punch when it comes to handsy drunkards but a professional? Yeah, that's not happening.

"Get out," his voice is gruff, very stereotypical of a big scary guard. Maybe you'll get to keep your promise to Babette after all. I mean you can't break it if you never even managed to see him. But still, you step forward and let out a deep, shaky sigh.

You take another hesitant step forward. "Look I'm not a threat, you can literally stand directly behind me the whole time if you'd like. I just really need to see this guy."

"No."

Your shoulders slump, eyes beginning to burn. You just need a win. If you don't get a win soon then surely you'll combust into a million tiny shard of despair. Maybe that's what causes you to blurt out your words, voice a little louder than intended as you swing your arms about for emphasis.

"I don't know who you are, I barely know who this guy is but I do know that people say he used to want to change this place for the better and I-" you swing your bag around, hastily opening the flap and rip out a handful of crumpled notes. In your haste to grab the papers you hadn't noticed the guard withdraw his gun but you see it once you look up. Your hands shake, voice wavering. "I have this brilliant idea, something that can help. So if you just let me in."

He doesn't move, gun still pointed at you. He cocks a bow, so you wave your hands. Gods if you could see yourself a week ago you would have laughed. You're about to cry in front of this stranger while brandishing your research papers and blueprints at him. You probably look insane. Maybe those blue bellies were right.

"Just let me in! This is revolutionary, it's something he'll want to back if all the rumors are true!"

The guard shoves his gun back into his holster, but your excitement is short lived as he walks over to you. Rough hands grab your waist and you begin to wiggle in his grasp. Strange men need to stop manhandling you and you need to invest in some knives so this doesn't happen again.

Your hands smack against his back as he tosses you over his shoulder, papers clutched tightly in your fist. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" You bark at him, "How fucking dare you, How fucking dare all you fucking me-"

"Egor, set the loud woman down." From the way you're being held you can't see who said that, but their voice is smooth and masculine. It runs down your spine like honey slowly running down the handle of a teaspoon. The brute of a man slowly sets you down, his emotionless eyes staring down at you before he steps aside to let you through. "Thank you."

As you finally lay eyes on the talk of the city, you get what Babette meant earlier when she'd referred to Silco's wound. Before you is a tall, lithe man who holds himself with a certain confident air. His sharp face has two very different and very striking eyes; one sea green, kind of the like the foam that bubbles over the water sometimes, and the other bright orange, like a flame.

The orange one is surrounded in inky blackness and you find yourself wishing to ask how he managed that. It's got to be something with medicine or drugs or a procedure because well, people don't just develop literal black eyes. But even then his impressive eyes aren't the only striking feature. High cheekbones, a strong nose and sharp jaw- he looks almost aristocratic. Like he's to good for street rats like you.

"I'm not usually loud," you utter after a few beats of silence. Silence spent with him looking you over as you gawked at this strange and yet powerful man. You wouldn't have needed to hear all the gossip to know it either, not with how he holds himself. Power and control rolls off him in waves and sort of sucks you in. "I'm just desperate."

"Desperation tends to lead towards mistakes."

His eyes rake over you once more before lingering on your hands which are still white knuckling disorganized research papers and notes. You slightly loosen your hold and in the overwhelming silence you can hear the slight crinkle from them.

"Can't make mistakes if you've got nothing to lose."

His lips, narrow with a defined cupids bow, slightly quirk to the right at your words. "Even more dangerous if you have nothing left."

Despite his words Silco steps to the side, uttering "come in." You find yourself quickly obeying and your heart begins to race once more. As you step over the threshold something feels final, your boots press against the floorboards and some kind of line has been crossed. You don't know what or how but something drastic is about to happen.

And then the door clicks shut.

Taglist : @soniiyi @galactic-magick @adsky4 @alexandra-001 @drpepper280 @mac-and-cheese21 @watasinekoru @anthy-j-ander @fudosl (if your name is struck through than it would not let me tag you! You may need to check your settings)

[stanathanxoox]

Our Babies

“Our babies would be so cute.”

“Oh, yeah?” - Ominis Gaunt x MC

You had just escaped from the hospital wing, your boyfriend helping to escort you there when you had began to feel incredibly nauseous and dizzy during potions class with Professor Sharp. Matron Blainely had insisted that you spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing until whatever ails you passed, having sent Ominis back to class straight after he was sure you were settled. Matron Blainely had run some tests throughout the afternoon and come to only one conclusion, one that you should’ve probably suspected given your most recent turn in your relationship with your boyfriend. You made your way through the door into the room of requirement, having sent Ominis an owl when you were being released from the hospital wing for him to meet you there. You settled on the couch having noticed that he hadn’t arrived yet. Deek appeared a couple minutes later and bowed in front of you saying

“I have a plate full of plain crackers and some soup at Matron Blainely’s request for you Miss Y/N, she said that given your certain situation at the moment you may not feel like eating what is being served for dinner in the Great hall”. You take it gratefully, and chew slowly on the crackers

“Thank you Deek, I appreciate it greatly. Do you mind giving me and Ominis some space while I tell him?” you ask and Deek nods, taking your hand in his small one before he says

“Mr Gaunt has been worried sick about you all day Miss Y/N, kept on calling me to see if I knew any more about your condition. I’m sure he will be positively thrilled to hear your news”. And with that theres a poof and Deek is gone.

You don’t have time to even think or dwell on what Deek had just said to you because the door cracks open and you hear the worried voice of your boyfriend call out

“Y/N? Are you in here? I got your owl and came as quickly as I could” he says as he rushes into the room. You stand and make your way over to him, suddenly very nervous about the whole situation. You had known right from the beginning of your friendship with Ominis that he didn’t care much for his family or for what they had done and how much he wanted to escape. How much after this last year of school he wanted to leave and never return to his families home ever again. You hadn’t really talked about children apart from that if you had them they weren’t to be anything like his family. But you couldn’t help but worry what would happen given that you were both unmarried and - you couldn’t think of that. Your hands are ringing together, a sign of how anxious and nervous you are, something that even though Ominis can’t see he can still pick up

“My sweet Y/N, what is wrong?” he asks, placing his hands gently on your arms to reassure you

“Our babies would be so cute” you say, blurting the first thing that comes to your mind, another anxious trait you had. He raises an eyebrow even more confused as he asks

“Oh yeah?” and you nod your head before gently taking his hands and placing them on the slight bump that is your growing baby. You watch the different expressions flicker across his face, from shock, astonishment and wonder, to happiness and excitement

“Are you serious right now?” he asks, his voice a whisper and you nod leaning in and whispering

“Yes Ominis, we’re having a baby, Blainely thinks I’m about 12 and a half weeks pregnant” 

“We’re having a baby” he whispers before pressing a kiss to your lips and you smile

“Ominis, what does this mean for us and the baby?” you ask and he places a kiss to your forehead

“We have two months left till graduation my sweet girl, and then we can marry and raise this baby  together” he declares as if it was the surest thing in the whole world.

“Are you sure?” you ask and he nods

“Of course I’m sure my sweet girl, a life without you in it just doesn’t seem worth living and now that I know we’re having our own precious little one well that’s even more reason for us to be together don’t you think sweet girl?” he asks and you nod, as tears slip down your face

“I love you Ominis” you whisper and he beams. 

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[outlandish-dreamer]

A Weapon? A Monster? A Child.

Regressor! Alastor and CG! Rosie <3 Word count: 2193

He could hear them. Their mocking, jeering voices at his new found problem. The great, terrifying Alastor a puppet to something else, how little in control he was of anything. He couldn’t shake them out of his head. Every second filled with their reverberating laughs and yet, Alastor could do nothing but endure. 

He winced as he tried to stand, hands shaking and bones weary. Oh how cowardly he must’ve looked, barely able to stand on his two feet, hiding behind his shadow as he retreats to the one place he found solace. His radio tower. 

And not even that eased his ever growing fear. Whatever was left of it stood before him, a grim sight that made his already unwell state much, much worse. It served as another reminder of his failure. To see the very thing that kept him sane all these years defiled in such a manner. He truly had no idea how to react. Part of him wanted to go stark raving mad, and the other….

He slowly, unsteadily made his way through the wreckage that lay in front of it, his body ringing with each sting that came. It also didn’t help that he was regretfully known as something he hated to his core. He was a little. Such a pathetic aspect that he, much to his gratitude, managed to keep hidden from everyone else. Oftentimes even himself until it caught up to him once in a blue moon. No one knew and no one would know if he could keep it up the way he had the past few decades. However, that seemed much more unlikely given his current situation. The attack was so easily avoidable and yet, he still got hurt. He could’ve been killed and how he so narrowly avoided Adam’s final blow was beyond him. Now, he would’ve actually preferred it because then he wouldn’t have to face the aftermath that he knew was yet to come. 

It terrified him. To know of how much weakness he was showing. He could only hope, no, beg that no one saw and once he made his way inside, he exhaled in relief. He was alone. A disgrace, but alone nonetheless. Despite his rather embarrassing secret, he willed himself not to let it affect him. Not the fact that a huge chunk of his prized room was missing altogether, let alone the mess that was the inside of it. Reaching his table, the pain stumped him once again, making him fall to his knees. His smile wavered and he bared his teeth as he found himself underneath it. Sighing strained in relief, the safety of the confined space only worsened his struggle between headspaces. 

On one hand he just wouldn’t allow himself to, and on the other, he had no control over it. His body ached inside and out, his heart panged heavily on the fact that he was losing it, and underneath all of it, he felt so…scared. He was a fawn caught in a wolf’s den. A little boy hiding from the bastard he shared a bloodline with, hoping to God he wouldn’t find him. A cornered animal and with that, it was all too much. 

He couldn’t handle it anymore. 

He slipped. 

********

The fight may have been over, but that didn’t stop Rosie from feeling, at the very least, a little concerned. It wasn’t just the fear of losing everything she’d known that ailed her. It was losing the people she cared about. Really, the one person she cared about the most. And since it was finished, she hadn’t seen him at all, not even once and it was starting to worry her. 

Alastor was Rosie’s best friend, and she just couldn’t bear to lose him. Not like that. 

Looking over at the celebration behind her, she smiled fondly. She couldn’t be more happy for the unlikely group of residents, despite hardly knowing most of them. Charlie was such a darling, how could she not? Even as they stood under a building in desperate need of fixing, she still looked so happy. So proud. It was…admirable, to say the least. To watch her and her friends be so passionate about their achievements warmed her heart. 

Still though, as she turned her head in thought, something was…off. She could sense it even if she wasn’t sure what exactly “it” was. 

Speaking of which, there was one thing missing from such a display of victor, or rather, one person. Someone who would be even more supportive than she was. Where was Alastor? 

The rest seemed to pick up on that and Charlie asked the same thing as well. The rest kind of shrugged with mutterings of “I’m not sure” or “Last I saw was during the fight, so it beats me.” That didn’t help much in easing her anxieties. As they began looking, some albeit more willingly than the rest, she sighed. Her eyebrow raised, she took off to look for the demon. After all, she of all people ought to know where he was. 

She walked up to the one place she figured he might be. Everywhere else came out to be unsuccessful, so there was really one place left. Holding the hem of her skirt as she climbed up the stairs, Rosie walked curiously to the radio tower. Nothing out of the ordinary there, disregarding the very obvious debris. She couldn’t see anything, but if her nose and ears served her right, something was very, very wrong. The scent of blood seeped from beyond the door making her feel oddly nauseous for once, her stomach churning at what could be waiting for her. Thinking better of it, she steeled herself and went inside. 

The blood trailed over to his desk at a concerning amount. Stepping over the rubble, her gut wrenching at the sight of something he cared so much about ruined without a second thought, she called out gently. 

“Alastor? Sweetie, you in here?” She craned her neck, unable to see anything. “Everyone’s been looking for you.” She stepped carefully, avoiding the coat rack that now lay on the floor just waiting to trip some unsuspecting person. Suddenly, a low sound of strained breathing rumbled from his form, an ear perking up at hearing her come in. That gave it away to Rosie as she approached the desk even closer, her feet just inches away from his crumpled body. 

And that’s when he found him.

Crouching down, she saw a not quite unfamiliar sight. The all powerful Radio Demon’s smile gone, eyes squeezed shut as he lay curled into himself. Rosie knew what this was, she’d seen it before, but definitely not to this extent. Her head cocked to the side, she whispered. 

“Alastor..?”

Eyes nervously squeezed open, big, wide, doe eyes pouring into her as they tried to hide his fear to no avail. Glassy from tears hiding behind him that threatened to pour at any moment. Rosie’s heart squeezed in a way it very rarely did. Not unfamiliar to her, but the circumstances she found him certainly were. At the sight of her, the little shuddered, a pleading look on his face. 

“Oh..” Rosie gasped, crawling to his side and reaching out her hand, holding the side of his head. “You poor dear, is this where you’ve been all this time?” 

He didn’t have the words to respond, flinching slightly at her touch. Strained, he nodded his head slowly, uncurling himself slightly at her asking to see what happened. God, it hurt so much. He just wanted his mama, even though he knew she wouldn’t come. He sniffled, choking back a sob that escaped his throat. 

Rosie clicked her tongue and moved closer to pull him into her arms. Seeing him like this threatened to make her cry as well, wishing so desperately she would've come sooner. How long had he been like this? So scared and in pain. Part of her wanted to shake her head at his stubbornness, but she knew it wasn’t the time. The fawn just about broke as he pressed his head into her chest, giving in to the pain that rang throughout his body. His broken cries barely muffled by his best friend’s vise-like hold. 

“Oh my sweet thing, it’s alright.” She whispered, moving instinctively to brush the hair out of his face and pulling a handkerchief from her skirt. “I got you. Why don’t we get you out of here, hmm?” She tilted her head down at him, feeling him nod against her chest. “Now just hold still for a moment. It’s gonna hurt a little, but it’ll be quick, okay? Take a deep breath.” She inhaled deeply, crawling out from under the table and moving to pick him up. 

Alastor groaned at the motion, wincing as Rosie avoided his injuries and lifted him into her arms like a bride. Normally he would’ve laughed at such a feat of strength, the thought distracting him from the sharp jolt in his wounds. “There we go, you did a swell job baby! Such a brave boy.” Rosie walked out of the room, making a mental note to clean up his blood from the floor later and thought about where to go from here. She certainly didn’t want to leave him here, nor draw any attention from the others. There was always her emporium, even if it was a bit away. Yeah, that was a good idea. He’d be less...manic later on without anyone else knowing. And she was more certain he’d be safe there. That was all that mattered. 

*******

The baby sat on the toilet, curiously watching as Rosie rolled up her sleeves and went to work taking off his jacket. It was clear that Alastor needed stitches at the very least, if not something more later on. He didn’t seem to have any more serious injuries underneath, but it still didn’t look good. The other threaded the needle after cleaning him up the best she could and knelt down in front of him.

“Okay kiddo, now you’re not gonna like this, but I gotta do it. So take a big breath for me and we’ll get this over with, sound good?” Rosie admitted sympathetically. Piecing the skin together, she went to work suturing him up. Funnily enough, she’d done this plenty of times before, so really, it went by much quicker than she anticipated. 

“And...done! Look at you, being such a strong boy. That’s my Alastor alright! Isn’t it?” She cooed, laughing when he bleated happily in response. It wasn’t a common noise, however, it was one characteristic of his deerish nature he didn’t seem to despise. It was…well it was pretty damn cute. To the both of them and especially Rosie. 

Once again she picked him up and carried him into the room. Judging by his increasingly longer yawns, she knew he had to be exhausted. The day didn’t even feel like just a day and for Alastor it must’ve felt like a week at the very least. Discarding his tattered suit, she looked through her chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of fuzzy pajamas. Rosie pulled them over his worn-out, shockingly lanky frame; he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days. She’d have to do something about that later, she thought. Ruffling the top of his head, she watched as the little one rubbed tiredly at his ever-so drooping eyes and walked across the room to turn out the light. And following that, she turned on the phonograph to its lowest volume. A familiar lullaby flooding the air. He whined slightly at her walking away, earning him a little tease from the other. “Hey now, I’m gonna be right back. I’m not going anywhere.” She sat next to him on the bed and put an arm around his shoulders. “See?”

The fawn turned to look at the woman and blinked slowly. Not quite registering her reappearance until he felt her hand. Alastor huffed, tiredness clouding his mind and tucked his head into her shoulder. Rosie moved to pull the covers down and laid him down underneath them. Dried tear tracks stained his cheeks and right as he was about to fall asleep he turned his head up at her. The same pleading gaze as before, asking her not to leave him. Her hand to her chest, she drew in a breath. 

“Of course my little fawn, I’ll stay. Is that what you’re asking?” Alastor cooed, the smaller holding out his hand. Rosie smiled and took his hand in hers, running her thumb across the top of his fingers. She hummed alongside the phonograph and watched as he drifted off to sleep, breathing lightly as if the day had never even happened. Rosie kissed the top of his forehead, lingering for a minute more before whispering. 

“Sweet dreams darling, I’ll be here when you wake up. Nothing can hurt you now, I promise.” 

Having it all over with, Rosie was happy. It may take time for it all to heal, but at least in the moment, her friend, her little fawn was okay and for her, that was enough.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The Singing Princess

My take on a fairy tale of type 306: The twelve dancing princesses / The shoes that were danced to pieces (but what if there was only one of them, and what if she was queer). [Also on AO3.]

Once upon a time there was a king who had only one daughter and a plumper, pleasanter, prettier maiden had never been seen wearing a crown. She was the apple of her father’s eye and so anxious he was for her health and well-being that her bed was hung with curtains of the thickest velvet and that every night after she had gone to bed, the doors and windows to her room were all locked and barred. All so that she may sleep soundly and undisturbed.

Of all the princess’s many talents, her beautiful singing delighted the court most of all. No one knew of a sweeter voice than that of their princess when she let her voice ring out merrily in the great hall. So it was a great sadness indeed when it came to pass that one day, after the princess had finally got out of bed to a very late breakfast, it was discovered that she could not sing a single note. Indeed she was so hoarse and tired that she could barely speak, and when she did speak she was yawning all the while, as if she had not slept a wink.

In time, with lazing about in the garden and resting in the parlour she was no longer so sleepy, but her poor voice did not recover until it was time to retire to bed. And the next morning it was the same thing all over again!

So it went for weeks and weeks. The princess never sang anymore, though she smiled often enough. And while she went early to bed and was late to rise, she was forever trying to hide her yawns behind her fan.

The king was worried sick and the whole court lamented, for no one could understand what strange kind of illness had come over their princess.

At last the king could take it no longer and he proclaimed to all the kingdom that whoever could find out how to cure his daughter would be given their weight in gold and then some. Many came, many boasted, many sat at the princess’s bedroom door and tried to find out what ailed her. But none of them could stay awake to watch her. Whatever remedy they suggested, it was all for naught, and the king had them sent away in disgrace.

Now it happened that not very far from the castle lived a young couple with two small children and one more on the way, who often saw the king and the princess ride by in their carriage. And they said to one another that while the princess did not look at all sickly, it was a bad thing to have such a mystery hanging about her. And besides, they would very much like to receive such a kingly sum of gold.

So the following day the young father kissed his wife and children and went to the castle to tell the king that he would like to try his luck at finding out what afflicted the princess. The king agreed and after the princess had withdrawn for the night, the young father was brought to a small antechamber to the princess’s bedroom, after which all the doors and windows were locked. Only the door between the antechamber and the bedroom was left open, so that he might watch over the princess during the night.

The princess very politely wished him goodnight from behind the heavy velvet curtains round her bed. But a few moments later she began a lilting lullaby, as if to sing herself to sleep. The young father lay listening and he did not wonder at everyone who came before him not being able to stay awake. He almost fell asleep himself, but with every lilting trill of her voice he started awake again and looked around wildly for his children, as if he had heard the very beginning of a baby’s cry. He kept quiet though and did not stir, and after a long while the chamber grew silent. After a longer while still, he heard a rustling of bedding in the princess’s bedroom, and when he slyly opened one eye to see what he should see, the princess was quietly getting out of her bed.

She tiptoed across the floor and quietly took out her loveliest clothes and finest jewels and prettiest ornaments and primped and preened until she was a vision of beauty. Then she took hold of the heavy bed curtains, drew them shut, then drew them back once more, and as she pulled them aside there was a stairwell leading down where a moment before her bed had been. With one last glance over her shoulder she gaily lifted up her skirts and ran down the steps into the dark.

The young father was so surprised she had gotten quite a head start on him before he was able to follow her and he did not dare to hurry, for fear of making any noise. So he followed the princess at a distance, climbing all the way down until the stone steps became hard earth and lights began to shimmer in the distance.

The princess hurried on and the young father followed, until they came to a winding path that led into a beautiful grove. All the trees were tall and slender and every single one of them had leaves of shining silver. The princess did not look left or right, but the young father reached out and plucked a silver leaf from one of the trees so that he might be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

The path went on and as they went, the trees around them grew larger and older and all their leaves were glimmering gold. And further still the trees were so many it was no longer possible to stray from the path, and all their leaves were of dazzling diamond. The young father plucked a golden and a diamond leaf too and hid them in his pocket.

At the very heart of that strange forest, old, deep-rooted trees twisted all about, bowing low and spreading their branches to form a shady bower. In its entrance stood a lady of unearthly beauty, proud and tall, with a smile that was as eager as it was sharp and eyes that were as endless as they were wild. She held out her arms, laughing like the wind does, and the princess ran to her.

The lady caught her up in her arms and whisked her off her feet. She carried her into the bower, as the branches closed rustling around them, to a bed spread with shimmering silk. And there the princess sang like a bird, all night long.

Just before dawning, the princess emerged from her hiding place and hurried back along the forest path. She was not so fast as she had been before and often the young father had to halt his step for fear of catching up with her. But at last they were climbing the stone steps back into the royal palace and the princess was so worn out and sleepy that she did not notice him slipping out behind her.

She drew the curtains and threw them back again, restoring her bed to its rightful place. Then she took off all her finery, hid everything neatly away, and collapsed into bed to sleep like a rose.

Now the astonished young father did not sleep a wink. For a while he thought he had dreamed the whole thing, but there in his pocket were the three shimmering leaves, as real as the nose on his face. So he lay there in silence, frowning like anything, wondering what to do. Imagine what might happen if the princess did not make it home before dawn one night? They could not loose their only princess to the fairies, that would never do. But what should be done about it?

So he lay thinking, as long as the princess lay sleeping. And when she finally rose, near the end of the morning, she was just as drowsy and heavy-eyed, exactly as hoarse and voiceless as she had been the day before. The courtiers lamented, but the young father had risen with a smile and immediately asked to speak to the king in private, to discuss what ailed his daughter.

“Your Majesty,” he said solemnly, “your noble daughter is lonesome. She weeps in her sleep and this wears out her sweet voice so by night that she cannot sing by day. If you will take my advice, my liege, you must call to your castle every young woman who is of age and unmarried and willing to leave home, and let your daughter pick from among them whomever she likes best to be her companions and confidantes. Do this and all will be well, I am sure.”

It was done exactly as the young father recommended and to the entire court’s joy and astonishment, it went precisely as he had predicted. From then on the princess appeared at breakfast bright and early, almost every morning, surrounded by her new companions and in high enough spirits to sing all day long.

The king did not know how to praise the young father highly enough. He gave him trice his weight in gold and then some extra because his daughter begged him to, and the young father returned home to his wife and children with as much fanfare as any knight of noble blood.

His wife kissed him and his children hugged him and they were merry all day long. And when the children had been put to bed and his wife had put her feet up, he told her all about what had happened at the palace. Then they both laughed and blushed and laughed again until they were quite out of breath. The three peculiar leaves they hid away for another day, for you never knew. And from that day on they lived comfortably and happily and drank to the health of their princess at every breakfast.

[crispy-kiss]

Today's yap: Commedia dell'arte & Gay subtext; Why is Közi dressed as the Pierrot in Verte Aile?

I've talked about this on Twitter a few months ago but since it is now banned to me i'll post my thoughts here as well. Hear me out.

First of all, let's just summarize the plot: Gackt and Judith are a happy couple who live with the nobleman Kami, Judith's brother Yu~ki and Mana, a maid/prostitute. Everything was fine until Gackt dreamed that a misfortune would befall them. Worried, he and Judith go to visit a fortune teller who, after a blood pact, warns them that they are cursed and Judith will die. Gackt gets depressed and spends his days at the bar lamenting the inevitable. When Judith finally dies, Gackt is left with the regret of not having enjoyed the time he still had with her.

There is also a subplot involving the hooded man and the book that leads to Gekka no Yasoukyoku PV, but that's not the focus right now.

You see, the Pierrot is originally a Commedia dell'arte character. It was an improvised form of theater, the shows took place on improvised stages and carts, the actors using whatever they could find around. The plot of the plays usually revolved around stories of lovers who could not stay together or master-servant relationships. the actors wore masks to play their characters, which were usually the same regardless of the story. Here are the three most relevant ones: Arlecchino, Colombina and Pierrot.

The most popular script involving them is simple: Pierrot is in love with Colombina and writes letters to her in secret, as he doesn't have the courage to confess his feelings. Then he gets his heart broken when Colombina gets with Allerchinno, who is more charismatic and flirtatious. Basically a love triangle.

Now, what does this have to do with Verte Aile?The thing is that there is also a love triangle, although more subtle. Gackt, Judith and Kami, I wouldn't say Kami is in love with Judith though, but with Gackt.

Notice that while Kami's character is in the spotlight, he's always looking at the couple, especially at Gackt. His expression is not one of joy though, he looks upset. And just like Pierrot, he does nothing but watch.

back to Közi, in his pantomime play is interesting to note how the soundtrack gives us clues about the characters' feelings. The scene begins with Közi performing a cheerful song, we have a close-up on each of the characters watching the performance and then... when the camera stops on Kami, he is gazing at Gackt and the music becomes melancholic.

Közi then simulates crying in his performance and cut his wrist, which Kami also did soon after that.

Also, Közi was wearing a mask that he took off just before he cut himself. Kami is the only character to appear wearing masks after this (Bel Air PV.) The mask may symbolize the feelings he was hiding the whole time.

I believe Közi's Pierrot symbolizes Kami's feelings for Gackt. seems very plausible to me, since it's not the first time Malice Mizer includes queer elements and Gackt participated in the script writing. If you know him you know he includes BL in his works quite often.

If you don't like this theory, you can also just say that Kami was in love with Judith. But I honestly don't see him paying any special attention to her during the movie. So it's up to you! Maybe I'll write more another day. ^3^

[thegoldencontracts]

Kiss-Kiss K.O.~!

Summary: Your boyfriend keeps telling you he'll faint if you keep being so affectionate with him. Little do you know, he's right.

Pairing: Azul/Reader

Notes: Reader is completely gender neutral. Hehehe Azul bbg I would treat you so right just sign this marriage contract teehee-

A normal day at the lounge. You, In the VIP room, sitting next to Azul while you both did work together. Things were peaceful, and Azul was there, which made everything better.

While you worked, your attention drifted to Azul. You wanted him to talk to you. Or kiss you. Or maybe you wanted to kiss him. Something like that.

"Hey, Azul!" You said.

"Yes?" He said, a smug grin on his face. "Would you like something? Perhaps you're lonely? If so, I'd be more than happy to shower you with my affections as you please. You need only ask."

That wasn't even what you wanted to do, but now you were flustered, damnit! Damn your boyfriend and his silver tongue! And damn you for liking this so much!

"Really, now," he said, holding your hand up in a may that did more damage to your heart than any of those triple-deep-fried foods they sold at state fairs. "You look positively adorable like this! How could I possibly resist?"

"I- uh, just-" he snickered as you gave up, and you realized you were pouting. Damnit.

You weren't sure what exactly he couldn't resist until he kissed your hand. Your face was burning. This shouldn't've been such a big deal. It was fine. You were fine.

You were not fine. You glared at Azul. He did this to you . This was his fault. He shouldn't have been so insanely charming. Why was he so hot?

"My, my," he said. "It seems as if you're having trouble concentrating. Is something ailing you?"

Yep, something was ailing you. And you knew the cure.

You leaned in real to press a quick kiss to his mole. Kissing Azul made everything better.

"This was about you, you know," he said. "I think I ought to be the one kissing you, rather than the other way around."

He seemed perfectly smug while he talked, and someone might think he didn't like being kissed. But the red on his cheeks said otherwise.

"No, No," you said. "Let's keep going."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, grinning at the shudder he couldn't keep in. And then you pressed another, slightly lower than the first. And another. And another, until-

"Y-You!" Azul screeched, face bright red. "This is highly unprofessional!"

Good thing you didn't have a profession, then. That meant you'd get to do this more.

"And?" You said, pressing another kiss, this time to his nose, laughing as he failed around in his chair. "I like doing this. You look adorable when you get all flustered."

He'd said that last sentence to you so many times before. It felt so good throwing it back at him.

"I am not adorable." He said. "I am a businessman, I am intimidating, not-"

You cut him off by kissing him right next to the lips. He looked away from you, scowling.

"What happened to that grin when you were kissing me a few minutes ago?" You asked. "Is it that you can't take what you dish out?"

Although you didn't think it was possible, his face somehow got redder. He looked away, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. He looked so pretty when he was flustered. Actually, he was pretty in general.

Really, you were lucky to have him. He was so pretty, so perfect.

"T-That isn't true in the slightest," Azul mumbled.

Oops. Did you just say that out loud? Whatever. Azul deserved to hear nice things about himself anyway.

But he was denying it. That wouldn't do at all.

Without warning, you kissed him, this time, trailing down his face with more kisses until he finally pushed you away with a yelp.

"Stop," he pleaded, though something told you he didn't want you to stop.

"Do you really want me to stop?" You asked, grinning as he shook his head. "That's what I thought."

"Seven, if you tease me any more, I'll faint," Azul groaned, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Right," you said, leaning in to kiss him again.

And then he fainted.

He just fainted. Because you kissed him too much. Were you going to laugh, or panic because the twins might get here and grill you on what happened any moment?

The door slamming open answered that question for you.

In walked Jade, polite face turning into one that screamed murder as he looked at Azul's limp body.

"My, my," he said, "care to explain what happened here?"

You got where he was coming from. Azul, who'd been fine that morning, fainting out of nowhere? And you were the only person in the room with him? You would blame you too if you were him.

Right after him, walked Floyd, who gave you an annoyed look after seeing Azul's body.

"Hey, Grouper Fish," Floyd changed your old nickname to that ever since you'd started dating Azul. Something, something, symbiotic relationship, you vaguely recalled Jade explaining. "What happened here?"

"Well-" you realized how dumb your explanation sounded. There was no way the twins would believe it. "I, uh, can't say."

Jade raised an eyebrow.

"You are aware that your words give me reason to believe Azul s current state is your doing, no?"

"Yeah," you said, gulping.

"Can I squeeze Grouper Fish now, Jade?" Floyd said.

"Not yet," Jade said before gesturing to the security camera. "It would be best to review the security camera footage before jumping to conclusions."

He turned to you.

"Meanwhile," he said, "Would you mind bringing Azul to his room?"

You nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. The twins would realize what actually happened. You were safe.

A bit of struggling later, you managed to get Azul to his room. Now, all you had to do, was wait.

A while later, Azul woke up.

"What- happened?" He groaned, before flushing red as the memories came back to him. "Ah."

"Sorry, Azul," you said. "I probably should've toned it down a little."

"No, no," he said. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm simply- not used to such gestures of affection."

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," you said. "Anyways, Jade and Floyd came and saw you fainted. I was scared, dude. Thought they were gonna turn me into fish food."

"I apologize for that," he said. "Please accept a free meal at the lounge ad compensation."

You nodded in acceptance, though you were probably going to try and pay for it on secret anyways.

"Wait." Azul said, eyes wide.

"Yeah?"

"The twins have access to the security camera footage. They likely saw everything that happened."

"And?" You asked, before it hit you. "Oh. Sorry."

"Ugh," he groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this!"