#What the hell???? Oh I'm so so unwell

[kyouka-supremacy]

OP???????????????

I’m not over it, actually. So. Don’t think about how Atsushi keeps losing people. Don’t think about how many times someone’s slipped right through his fingers no matter how hard he tries. Don’t think about how readily he’d sacrifice everything to bring them back.

Don’t think about how he thought Akutagawa returned twice now.

Don’t think about Atsushi having to deal with watching Akutagawa die to protect him. Don’t think about Atsushi recognizing Akutagawa with Aya, and how for a second there must have been such overwhelming relief, don’t think about Atsushi begging Akutagawa to come back to himself with a smile on his face.

Don’t think about Atsushi, sobbing and alone, being rescued a second time from certain death as Akutagawa strides forward, confident and powerful, only to realize the man protecting him is a haunted house.

Don’t think about how Akutagawa keeps coming back, back to him, to Atsushi, don’t think about how much worse it must be to have the ability to reach out and touch, only to realize all over again the man staring back at him is a stranger wearing Akutagawa’s face.

[wikitpowers]

[REMINDER] we are getting all these!!!

AND I'M SO FREAKING EXCITED AHHHHH

[ourceliumnetwork]

hi hello idk if any of you were under the impression that I am either cool or normal but let me assure you that the only reason you could possibly think either of those two things is because you haven't seen me when my Super Special Interest is involved. I keep that shit on lockdown.

[maraczeks]

bcs s4 thread pt 2

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭.

synop: what do you do when you've lost it all?

wc: 3k.

request from anon: Hello! If it’s okay, may I request a Viktor x reader (established relationship) fic where Viktor, Jayce and reader were a trio in creating the hextech, but after the final battle in s2, both Viktor and Kayce are trapped in the astral plane (I refuse the notion that they are gone gone), but can see everyone and follow people around like unseen ghosts. With them gone, it’s just reader as she’s sitting at the ledge both Viktor and Jayce were about to jump in their respective times, but stopped because of the others, but now, it’s just reader all alone, burning the papers with their names on it as Viktor and Jayce sit on both sides of her. Flesh it out however you want!!

includes: angst. major character deaths. tw for suicidal thoughts. some unexpected comfort, but not enough.

author's note: oh anon, i can tell we share such similar feelings on those final scenes. i decided to write this with the assumption that jayce and reader are very close friends too—in fact, they conceived and began the secret research on hextech together. jayce and reader went through that certifiable hell of a timeline together as well. i'm extremely unwell about the "only you" quote to the point where i'm getting it tattooed on my clavicles, so of course i had to include it. when viktor says this, he means both jayce and you. you three are a trinity, previously believed inseparable. i hope you enjoy.

“Was I not enough?”

“You were everything.”

Viktor wanted nothing more than feel you beside him again. Your voice and mere existence were holy salves in this limbo—but oh, what he would do to touch you again. To wipe the tears from your eyes and tuck you against his chest and hold you until you smiled up at him again.

“You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Had you been atop the Hexgate, fighting like you should’ve alongside Jayce, you could’ve shared the burden of death with the two people tantamount to your existence. But you couldn’t kill Viktor. You understood why Jayce had to do it, to destroy the commune and commit the ultimate, heinous crime; and you wouldn’t stop him, but you wouldn’t go either. You holed away in the lab, windows sealed shut, and wallowed in darkness.

You were never one to let things destroy you. The life you led with Viktor was filled with nothing but discovery, sunshine, and base adoration. Setbacks were trivial. With Viktor at your side, you always worked through them.

All this, though? This wasn’t a setback.

This was obliteration.

You were slumped over on the familiar table when the battle began, blanket cradling you, leaning against Viktor’s cane as you numbly listened to the bombs and the guns and the screams. Maybe Viktor’s soldiers didn’t register you as a lifeform; maybe he purposefully passed you over. All that made you lift your head was a sudden quiet.

And then Viktor and Jayce were gone.

Viktor was belated at your survival, even more so than his own; yet even he couldn’t deny the importance of Jayce’s sacrifice. They didn’t finish this together—not without you. This magical plane was extraordinary and he shared it with his closest friend. But your absence was inescapable. It left a constant, marring hunger in his chest. You were missing. He was unbalanced.

The piece of hair that always fell across your face parted your forehead and Viktor itched to push it off your skin, tuck it behind your ear. Even without a body he could feel the sickness of his want for you.

You sobbed again, chest heaving as the clouds cracked above you and drowned Piltover with rain. You had been so close to stabilizing the Hexcore.

Then the attack on the Council.

Then Viktor virtually dying.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You were crying like a little kid. You hadn’t needed to in a long time. Snot and hiccups and gobs and gobs of tears. You had lost utterly everything. Not just Hextech—all of the realm of magic. Jayce. Viktor. The hope for a happy ending. Rosy, golden memories were tainted with the knowledge of their ending.

Viktor and Jayce stayed with you, invisible, as you grieved on the infamous edge. If only you could tilt the prism of reality—just a smidge—and refract them into your view. If only you knew it could be done. You’d see the kaleidoscope of their bodies pressed against each side of you, keeping you pinned to the ledge; Jayce’s head on your shoulder, Viktor’s hands running through your hair.

“There must be some way to speak to her,” Viktor murmured. His hands phased through you, but he still tried to card his fingers through your locks anyway. “This whole realm of infinite knowledge—it is beautiful. Perfect. But it doesn’t even compare.”

“Now’s not the time for I-told-you-so’s, but…”

Viktor’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head at Jayce’s words, yet he appreciated his ability to jest. There wasn’t much else to do but reflect or watch over you; his humor was a refuge in what felt like an impenetrable fog.

You, of course, didn’t hear him. You stayed stubbornly inconsolable. Two parts of your trinity worried you would finally do what they failed to. You were so close to falling—you already had emotionally. It felt only natural that the physical should follow.

You thought of the first night you met Viktor, when you placed your reputation and life on his ideas in making Hextech conceivable. When you were engulfed in that first field of magic. The three of you swimming in air, stars, and runes.

You thought of floating. You sobbed and started to believe if you tilted forward, just enough, you could fly with them again.

Third time’s the charm.

“There you are,” a voice gasped. A voice in your plane. Could be another ghost for all you care.

Mel crouched behind you and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. Being Jayce’s beau and an important advocate for Hextech, Mel had become a rather important part of your life—and a desperately-needed girlfriend, at that. When the stars aligned, your spa nights and genuine conversations always gave you a fresh perspective and a good break from the sometimes monotonous lab.

“Please, leave me alone,” you croaked.

“Teetering on the edge of a maintenance shaft? I know you’re grieving, but I can’t let you do that.” Mel’s hand pressed down on you, urging your body away from the precipice.

You wailed, refused to move. “How am I supposed to keep going on? My life—” You interrupted yourself with a sputtering sob, “—is meaningless without them!”

“That is not true,” she insisted. Her hand stayed firm. “I’m grieving them too. And if you do this, I’ll have lost you too.” She stepped out into the rain to grab your shoulders and force you to look at her. “You cannot live a life defined by other people.”

“Then what was the point of loving?”

Mel’s face turned stony as you glared up at her. Your words bit a new consideration into her mind. She hadn’t experienced the hellish landscape of your potential future, devoid of emotion for the sake of progress. She hadn’t kneeled before the iteration of Viktor who had seen it all—every timeline, every possibility—and been the recipient of his declaration that only you could show him this. She hadn’t loved or experienced Viktor and magic like you. She would never understand the hole that tore into you, a supernova that was determined to take you with it. You didn’t have a life without Viktor or magic. You had let it consume you, happily—the loss of it would surely erase you. There would be nothing left.

“...I can’t make the pain go away,” Mel began. Her voice was measured, but it held a softness for you that belied her own grief. “And it never will go away. It will get smaller, but it will always be there. But if you let that expound you, then you really never will love again.” Viktor watched as Mel pushed your hair off your forehead. A small moment of catharsis for him. Finally, your beautiful face.

“Are you going to let the universe make that choice for you, when we have all since learned the importance of having that power?”

You looked up at her, eyes pleading, soaked to the bone. You were a shattered tea cup on the floor. She was scooping you up. She wanted to repair you with gold.

“I miss them so much, Mel,” you whimpered. She leaned forward and hugged you to her chest, your head atop her collarbone as you sobbed. She held you in the rain and pulled you off the edge.

“I know,” she murmured back. “I do too. Moving on is impossible, when we are a mosaic of all the people and events of our lives. But we can move forward. We just have to gather ourselves up first.”

Mel helped you make a bed in the lab that night. You just wanted to surround yourself in it all again, and she would allow you—for a little while.

You dreamt of them. A kaleidoscope of colors, their voices, their faces in horrific clarity. A flash of light, and you swore you could feel the warmth of Viktor’s hands on your cheeks.

Only you.

You choked awake, dead of night, and immediately burst into tears as you held your own face in poor imitation of Viktor. Your chest was ripping apart. You were sure if you looked down, you’d see the muscle and sinew and bone, the beating of your heart in its cavity, your lungs heaving, your blood gushing off the sides of the bed.

But you opened your eyes to a room faint with moonlight. Viktor’s cloak spread over you as a blanket. You gathered it in your arms and burrowed your face into it. You knew the scent would be lost, sooner than you needed it to stay, so you greedily gulped lungfuls of air through the familiar fabric as you bled and bled and bled.

You fell asleep only out of sheer exhaustion and a headache that enervated every bit of fight from you.

Mel awoke you at dawn with a swarm of Noxian servants. Two ripped the curtains off the lab’s windows, forever washing it in sunlight once more and making you groan atop your makeshift cushions. The mage kneeled beside your bed, rubbing your arm through the sheets.

“Lots to do today,” she murmured. “But first, breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” you protested lamely.

“You don’t have an appetite,” she corrected. “You are hungry, though.”

You didn’t bother to retort. You didn’t have the energy. You internally grimaced at that, knowing it probably was because you hadn’t eaten since Jayce and you had returned to your home timeline.

Mel helped you sit up as a servant placed a silver platter of food before you. Huge, juicy fruits, meats that would melt on your tongue, eggs and fresh bread and butter—it all smelled nauseating. You looked visibly ill at the sight of it. You looked visibly ill in general.

Mel sat beside you on the cushions and broke the bread. The crust crunched in her hands as she offered a bite for you. It was mindless, the way you took it and stuck it in your mouth. Its taste hardly registered. You chewed mechanically, swallowed. And Mel offered you another.

With the patience of a saint, she fed you until you ate half of the small loaf. She tried one of the fruits, but you gave her a pleading look to not try; so she had the rest of the food sent away and hoisted you to your feet.

With the lab awash in light, everything laid out in front of you in perfect clarity. You saw a page with Viktor’s handwriting and immediately sobbed, bent over in pain as you snatched it off the table and smashed to your chest. Mel caught you and helped you stand upright. She shushed you, wiped your tears.

Viktor lived through her. His spirit watched over you and pretended Mel’s hands were his.

The mage ordered the servants to clean up the papers, have them set out of view. You wailed, begged, for her not to, to let you wallow over them and crumple them against your face and scar them into your skin. But she did not relent. She held you with gentle firmness as the lab was cleared of Viktor and Jayce.

So began the next few weeks. As the world shifted to react to the Battle of Piltover, Mel simultaneously accepted rule over the Noxians and took you under her wing. Each step you took, you took together. The papers were the first. Then it was getting you out of the lab, back into your own room. Leaving you alone for meals. Reading you the letters Violet and Caitlyn and countless others had left you.

You started getting up on your own. You felt numb to everything, but some level of worldly shuttering had to happen so you could just take care of yourself.

Viktor laid with you at night. He pretended his fingers were grazing over your cheek and your warmth was pressed against him one more. He already knew you were strong enough to recover from this.

After all, you were everything.

Months. You think, at least. You lost track of time in your grief. You’re sure you would’ve lost much more without Mel.

Golden hour in the lab was the most beautiful. Sunlight sparkled off every surface and washed everything in honey-glazed hues. It used to be your favorite time of the day. So many memories of Viktor and you testing, discovering, being. The walks you used to take through the nearby gardens. The day you harnessed flight for individual use, you two taking it for a run in a magical fly over Piltover. The dinners Jayce would bring when you both were too lost in work. The unextraordinary days of no progress. You’d kill to have just one more.

Months ago, just being aware of the time of day brought you to your knees. It still hurt, now, but you had it on a leash. It growled and pulled and sometimes got away; but today your grief was being surprisingly well-behaved. So you wandered to a cabinet. The door creaked when you opened it.

You sat in the curve of the alcove. Machinery whirred behind you. Piltover gleamed ahead of you, resplendent beneath a halcyon sky. Your back, flush with the edge of the window, slid down as you dangled a foot off the ledge. Viktor sat on the other side, on another plane, watching you fondly. You were pouring over the old papers. The Hexcore stared up at you in sketches, as formulas, overarching concepts. Your fingers brushed over Viktor’s signature scribbled tightly beside yours.

You pushed yourself out of the curve and toed the ledge. Viktor’s expression dropped. Jayce flocked to your other side as if to stop you. You looked down and thought of flying. You brought the papers up to your eyes again.

You ripped the parchment in half, Hexcore on one, Viktor’s handwriting on the other. You let the wind lift it from your hands. Viktor moved to sit beside you. Jayce followed.

You turned back to the stack. Grabbed another piece.

Shhhkt.

Runes drifted in one direction. Your signatures in another.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt. Shhhkt. Shhhkt. Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

You watched as stars of paper floated away from you. You suddenly realized what you'd done. You collapsed onto the platform, curled over yourself, as you held the rest of the stack to your chest and wailed. Viktor pretended his hand didn't phase through yours, pretended that his fingers were capturing yours, that you could hear him as he murmured assurances and comforts against your ear. They were just papers, you'd write a new copy when you got back to the lab, he'd draw his signature as many times as you needed it. Just come back, step away. You'd all be back to your gloriously routine evenings before you knew it.

But all you saw was the ledge. Past it, a sprawling world with nothing in it for you.

"There must be a way," Viktor murmured. You were sleeping later that night. He was laying beside you, memorizing every atom of you. Jayce sat beside him on the edge of the bed. You had the sheer grit to tear yourself away from the edge again; but even after months of grueling recovery, you had still come far too close to it. That terrified everyone but you.

"We don't have anything here. Ideas can't be reality, not when everything is just..." Jayce gestured around them in frustration. "Speculation."

"A connection can't be impossible."

"I'm not even sure how to look for one."

Viktor was looking at you when Jayce grumbled those words. The revelation dawned over them simultaneously. He looked up at his partner, then back at you.

He cupped your head in his hands, leaned in as he ran his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. Your expression squeezed in discomfort from the branding, searing pain that came with seeing his face again. The veil was thin between your planes when you dreamed. Sometimes you'd see through to them, feel Viktor's spirit touch your weary one, hear his voice in shattering lucidity for an ephemeral moment. But you'd always believed they were just that—dreams.

All Viktor wanted was to make you happy again, with or without them. But maybe if you knew you weren't just having nightmares, that it really was them, you'd find a new purpose. You'd find a way.

Only you.

You gasped awake. You flung the blankets off your body, haphazardly threw Viktor's robes around your shoulders, and sprinted out of your bedroom.

Mel wanted to clean the chalkboards ages ago, but you were adamant they stayed as they were. Papers could be hidden until you were ready, preserved and untouched; these writings on the walls were virtually intangible. Once they were erased, they would never return again. All that would be left were ghosts. Palimpsests.

You burst into the room. In one hand, a bucket of water and soap that sloshed at your feet; the other, a scrub brush. You dunked the bristles into the suds and slashed a wound of water across the chalkboard. It bled white as you scrubbed furiously. You didn’t bother with the whole thing. You weren’t ready for that.

But you were ready for at least a sliver of a blank slate.

You used the long ends of Viktor’s robe to dry the board. His spirit stood beside you, watching you carve into the past. Jayce took your other side in pride.

You gripped a piece of chalk off the tray and pressed it to the clearing. You hesitated, your grief biting regret into you for being so rash; only hours earlier had you destroyed important scientific documents.

Your trinity rested their hands on your shoulders.

Only you.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly, almost in acknowledgment of them.

Then, you began anew.

dividers used: paper • scribbles

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

[luvrrszn]

mean

REMUS LUPIN x FEM READER

summary full moon turns your remus into someone unrecognisable

warnings angst probably, probably inaccurate hp facts, bad writing, not proofread, probably a piece of trash i just needed it out of my drafts lol

a/n it has been SO long since i've written for hp so it's probably full of inaccuracies 😭 take everything with a grain of salt and PLEASE send in more requests ily

masterlist

james has a shit-eating grin on his face when you walk in.

“oh, bloody hell. what is it now?” you groan as you flop onto your boyfriend's, remus's, bed.

"wait till you see what pads did to snape's robes." james reveals, unable to contain his grin.

"oh c'mon, jamie. when are you guys gonna get tired of picking on him? you guys are gonna get in serious trouble one day, i'm tellin ya." you sigh as you try to find a comfortable position to sit in.

just then, the door swings open to reveal sirius and your beloved boyfriend, remus. sirius has his usual smirk, while remus looks a little more down than usual. you check the date on the calendar next to his bed and realises it's almost full moon.

he takes off his shoes and slides into his bed next to you. you snuggle up next to him, and he rests an arm around your shoulder.

"should we go to hogsmeade this weekend?" james suggests, and you nod, saying animatedly, "yes please. i need new quills, and i'd like to pop by honeydukes."

usually, remus chides you for the sheer amount of sugar you consume. this time, he remains silent. this is your first clue that something's wrong.

while james and sirius argue over nothing, you turn to face remus, eye full of concern. you ask, "remmy, are you okay? you've barely said a word all day."

"i'm fine," he replies. you're left puzzled, by the lack of endearment. but you decide not to push any further, turning your attention back to the book you had just picked off his nightstand.

"is that my book? why are you always touching my things?" remus snatches the book out of your hands, only to receive perplexed glances from james and sirius.

"oi, loosen up, moony. it's just a book, don't be mean." james stands up for you. so does sirius, saying, "yeah moony, don't be an arse."

remus just ignores them.

an hour passes, and so does about four different conversation between james, sirius and you. remus has barely spoken a word, and you're getting more and more concerned by the second.

"remmy, are you sure you're okay? are you feeling unwell?" you ask, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

"i'm fine, stop worrying," he says, curt. you're a bit shocked, by the tone he's taken with you and the way he barely looks at you.

"oh, merlin. do you ever shut up? all you do is talk and talk and talk. will you leave me alone for one bloody second?" remus snaps at you.

james and sirius immediately stop talking, and stare at remus in shock. remus worships the ground you walk on, never in a million years would they imagine him talking to you like this.

you're equally shocked yourself. you knew remus had a short temper around full moon, but his anger was never, never, directed towards you.

you get up from the bed and it takes everything for you to not cry in front of your friends. you say softly, "i think i'm going to go back to my room. goodnight, guys."

"dove, wait," remus calls out, his voice apologetic.

you pretend you don't hear him and walk out of the door, not looking back once.

—

when you push open the door to your dorm room, with tears streaming down your face, lily immediately beckons you over to her bed.

"oh, dear. what happened now?" she asks gently, holding you in her arms as she strokes your hair.

"boys are assholes." you grumble.

"tell me something i don't know." lily chuckles.

she holds you as you cry. she silently vows to not let remus near you any time in the next few weeks.

—

and just as she promised herself she would, lily had you surrounded with friends for the next few weeks, making it impossible for remus to reach you, or for you to reach him.

full moon had come and gone, and it killed you to know that you weren't there for remus while he went through it.

you weren't left to dwell on it for long, with all your friends always surrounding you, keeping you occupied.

remus, however, was left to stress over the fact that he hadn't been able to make it up to you, and not for a lack of trying. with lily and your friends around you round the clock, he never had an opportunity to approach you without death glares from four different girls.

his opportunity arises when you fall off your broom while playing quidditch.

—

"madam pomfrey, i'm fine, please, let me go back o—" you plead, only to be cut off.

"nonsense, dear. you need to be kept for observation. i won't have you go back out to play." she shakes her head, and disappears to tend to another student.

the door creaks open, and you see a familiar face poke in.

your boyfriend, whom you haven't spoken to in three weeks.

he has a sheepish look on his face as he sits down on the chair next to the bed you're lying on.

"dove, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have snapped at you like that, especially not in front of our friends. i was stressed, but it's still no excuse for the way i treated you. i hope you can forgive me." he says, gently taking your hand in his.

you let out a sigh, saying, "it was really mean, remmy."

"i know, i know, dove. and i'm so, so sorry. i should have never spoken to you that way. I'll never speak to you like that ever again, swear. else you can chop my balls off, i swear." he replies, giving you a small smile.

"fine, remmy. but you're an absolute arse, i hope you know that."

"i promise you i do." he replies as he presses a kiss into your hair.

[whxrecruxxes]

MIAMI, THE CITY THAT KEEPS THE ROOF BLAZIN'- ln4

pairing- lando norris x fem! reader genre- established relationship (idk yall) OH ALSO victory smut warning- SMUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTT (you dirty dirty ppl, don't be silly, wrap your willy), victory head ( my boy lando deserves it), lowk pda ???? idk yall tell me if you spot any lollolololol summary- when your boyfriend brings back his first ever GP win, there seems to be only one way you both think of celebrating. GUYS GUYS GUYS HE DID IT I ACC CRIED OUR BOY DID IT !!! LAND NORRIS, GP WINNER. LANDO NOWINS IS NO MORE. GUYS I WAS ACC UNWELL, I CAN'T EVEN I WAS CRYING SO HARD 🥺 anwayyyyyyysssss this is not proofread so sorry if there are any spelling mistakes

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · keep reading !! · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

Those last few laps, you could barely sit still. You spent them biting your bottom lip and pinching your forearm underneath the orange of your hoodie, too scared to even move. Especially after that DNF during the sprint, Lando did not have high hopes for the race, he had told you so right before you two got to the track that morning. And now here you are, sitting in the garage near Lando's dad, fiddling with the promise ring around your finger. Tears started blurring your vision as the final lap was announced, your legs shaking despite you sitting down. When he crosses the finish line, you can barely contain your sobs and your body folds forward as you press your hand over your mouth, Lando's father cheering and rubbing your bag softly. Zak comes running in from the Pit wall, cheering and whooping as he runs towards you.

"He did it ! He fuckin did it !" He yells, wrapping you in his arms and jumping up and down. He's laughing and cheering as he pulls away from you, holding your hand.

"You need to come down with us. He'll want to see you." He says.

"But i'm not allowed. I don't want to get in trouble." Adam nods beside you.

"You should. Knowing my boy, he'll want to celebrate with you." Zak nods, sighing heavily.

"Besides, what the hell they gonna do ? Lando will punch anyone who tries to take you away from him. And he would punch us for not dragging you along, so come on !" You let yourself get taken away, softly crying as you're guided down to the track. You see Lando climb out of his car and punch the air, holding a one with his finger. You can hear him screaming through his helmet, his voice raw. He jumps off the car and is immediately swarmed by max and carlos, who hug the younger driver amicably. He turns towards his team, where you're nestled between his engineer and his father, barely visible in the sea of orange and height. He takes his helmet off, placing it down on he floor, before running up to his team.They instantly grab him and lift him above their heads, bouncing him up and down as they cheer and he laughs. Seeing that smile on his face makes your heart warm.

He's waited for this for so long.

When he's placed down on the floor, his father pats his shoulder and Lando drapes his arms around him tightly. The smile on his face is wider than you've ever seen when he backs away, and it only grows when he finally spots you.

"Baby !" His eyes grow and he lunges for you, shoving anybody out of his way that seemed to be suffocating you in the tiniest way. His arms wrap around you and he kisses the inside of your neck as you lean up on your tiptoes.

"You did it, Lan." You sob as he pulls away. "I'm so proud of you, baby." He cups your cheeks and kisses you, so long and so hard it shoves all air out of your lungs. It knocks you on your ass, falling back to your flat feet and him leaning over the railing to get better access to your lips. His teeth graze your bottom lip, his hands venturing into your hair to tug you closer. You whimper in his kiss, fully aware of the people cheering around you and the cameras probably angled towards you. When he finally pulls away, he kisses your forehead and wipes away your tears. He stares down at you, absolutely ecstatic, before he's dragged away to the med tent.

The podium is even more of a fever dream, watching him spray champagne all over his team below and the other drivers spray him all over, not even leaving him a moment to speak. He winks down at you and you can't help the rumble in your stomach. The promise of celebration is always evident whenever Lando is on the podium - but his first ever win ? There is no way you'll be able to walk tomorrow. And it's already bad enough whenever he looses.

You feel a tug on your arm as the Podium Celebrations come to an end.

"Psst." You turn around to be greeted by Lando's engineer, who seems quite annoyed to be the one to have to tell you this.

"Lando wants you to meet him in his driver's room. He says he needs to speak to you." He says, nodding slightly. You smile at him and thank him, starting to break away from the crowd, but he tugs you back. "Look, i know it's his first win but let's not have a remake of Austria. I don't think anybody could unhear that for months. Just.. try to be quiet." he says, offering you a kind smile to lessen your obvious embarassement. You nod, too scared to speak, and break away from the crowd. Your steps are hurried as you rush to his room, your cheeks red. You knock on the door and wait patiently, anxiously looking over your shoulder. When the door finally slides open, your heart leaps into your throat. He's torn off his suit, the fireproof soaked with champagne and sweat sticking to his sculpted chest and arms. His soft curls are soaked with champagne, the soft cut on the bridge of his nose from the week before reddened with irritation. You smile up at him instantly pushing him into the room and shutting the door behind you. He wraps his arms around you and breathes in your scent, hands gripping you tight.

"My girl." He mutters into your neck, which makes you giggle and tears start to flow up into your eyes again. You pulling away from him, cupping his cheeks.

"I'm so happy for you, baby." You mutter, running your thumb over his nose bridge. "I can finally say i'm dating a race winner." You say. He smiles, gripping your waist.

"Don't you want to say you've fucked a race winner ?" He says, moving your hair away from your neck to wrap his lips around the soft skin. You whimper as soon as his lips come on contact with your skin, leaning into his touch.

"Maybe later." you breathe. He pulls away, frowning.

"Maybe later ? C'mon now, baby, you're hurting my feelings." He jokes. You roll your eyes, softly untying the knot he's made around his hips with his suit.

"Of course you'll get to do that, Lan." You breathe out. If it's one thing Lando knew, is that you were always insatiable for him- and he for you. There was not a moment in public where his hands weren't on your hips and ass, and that your hands weren't combing his hair or kissing his cheeks. Most people found it quite sickening and they would tell you, but Lando would refuse to let you back away, even when you were embarassed that someone would point it out.

Your fingers push the suit apart, shoving it down his legs.

"Whatcha doing now, then ?" He asks, smiling lazily. You look up at him, grinning.

"Giving you a proper celebration." You mutter, pushing his fireproof up his abs as you kiss your way down, kneeling down to your knees. You blindly pat on your wrists to find a hair tie but you can't for the life of you find one. You're about to resort to just shoving your hair down your shirt to keep it out of the way when lando tilts your head up. He slips a hair tie off his wirst.

"Here you go, love. Always have one on hand." He mutters, smiling in that boyish smile that makes you want to give in to his drunken gaze and let him bend you over like he obviously is dreaming of. But he's always the one to make sure you feel good. Now, it's your turn to make him see stars.You tie your hair back quickly and kiss your way down his thighs, fingers grazing his abdomen as they loop around the band on his boxers.

"C'mon, princess, don't tease me." He begs. He's losing his shit, watching you on your knees, eyes already heavy lidded. that bright papaya dress stretching perfectly around your breasts and ass, too far away from him to grab but still delicious enough to stare at. His hand wraps around your ponytail, establishing his grip on you as you finally tug his boxers down. His cock springs up, and your eyes widen, already salivating at the sight. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you wrap your hand around him and softly lick at the precum gathering there, making his head tilt back and a heavy breath leave his chest. He looks like a mess in your grip, his fireproof still halfway pushed up from when you were kissing your way down, and he's made no move to lower it, giving you a great view of his abs.

His grip around your hair tightens and he licks his lips, looking down at you as you ease the veiny length inside your mouth, running your tongue along the vein on the underside, right where you know makes him shiver.

"Fuck, baby, not so fast." he grumbles as your cheeks hollow around him, your hand pumping the rest of the length you couldn't fit in your mouth. He's heavy in your mouth, choking you in the best way possible. He brushes away a tear from the corner of your eye, groaning as he notices your thighs clenching to relive some of the pressure building up. At first, seeing you cry as you sucked him off scared him. The first time ever, he pulled away from you and knelt down beside you, gushing over you as how scared he was to hurt you. After a while he learnt that it was just the way tour face muscles were stretched, but that doesn't mean that seeing you cry doesn't scare him when he sees it. Although right now, your tongue is swirling around his tip, and he's clutching your hair tighter, his groans getting louder.

"Ah, fuck, baby. You take me so well- Shit, I can't wait to be inside you." Your eyes roll back into your skull as you hear those words, feeling your juices coating your thighs beneath your dress. Your pumps start moving faster, your hand tightening around his length and your tongue swirling around his tip. He shoves you down closer to him, groaning as he feels the pressure build up in his stomach. You can tell by the way his cock twitches in your mouth, throbbing with release. Knowing it'll drive him crazy, you pull away, kitten licking down his length, driving him away from his orgasm. He grumbles.

"God, please stop teasing me." He begs, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back, running his thumb along your bottom lip. You get to your feet, ankles wobbly, hand still wrapped around his length. He pulls you to him, lips wrapping around yours, his own hands moving fast to push the flimsy material of your dress up and past you hips all while tugging the top down to reveal your breasts. You hum into his kiss.

"Lan-Lan, we have to be quiet."

"Quiet ? Baby, i just won my first race. I want the entire paddock to know. Hell, the whole of Miami." He tears his firepoof off finally, revealing his abs to you as he grabs your waist and hoists you up, letting you wrap your thighs around his waist. You giggle as he drops you down onto the couch and slots his body between your legs, kissing your neck. A breathy moan leaves your lips as you cup his neck, running your fingers in his curls, biting your bottom lip. He smells of sweat and champagne, and it makes your heart race.

Lando Norris, Race winner.

"You ready, baby ?" He asks, looking up at you as he pushes your underwear to the side. You nod, and you feel his tip slide through your folds. He pushes in slightly, and a drawn out whine of his name leaves your lips, welcoming the stretch.

"Ah, Lan." You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses your exposed collarbone, his hand reaching up to tug your bra down.

"God, you're so wet f'me, darling. So fucking good for me- My good girl. You want more ? Want to take all of it ?" He asks, his tone teasing as you whine underneath him.

"Please, Lan, please." You beg. He kisses your temple, before pushing into you fully, bottoming into you fully, letting out a low groan. Your walls clench around him and he groans, catching your lips with his, his hand wrapping around your throat slightly.

"God you have no idea how bad i wanted you when I saw you when i got out of that car." He mutters, his hips rutting against yours, his tip hitting that spongy spot deep within you that makes your eyes roll.

"That entire last lap i was thinking of you, baby. My pretty girl, taking me so fucking well." His words are edging you on, your thighs shaking as his rough hands palm them to plough you harder and faster. he bites down on your neck slightly, eliciting a loud moan from you. The rythmic banging of the couch against the wall is deafening, and you convince yourself that there's no need to stay quite anymore when he sits up, sitting you down in his lap and rilling your hips against his. You throw your head back, his hands moving your hips to match the pace at which hes thrusting up into you.

The new angle pushes lewd whimpers and moans out of you, and he seems to relish in it. If there's one thing Lando loves more than you, it's hearing how good he makes you feel. Whether its you telling him straight up or the moans and whimpers he forces out of you, which he enjoys tremendously. Wrapping his arm around your waist firmly, he pulls you in, your hips relentlessly chasing that feeling building up within you.

"God, Lando."

"You close, hm ? You wanna come all over my dick, hm ?" He asks. Your bury you hands in his curls, biting your bottom lip, your thighs shaking as he lifts up to thrust into you at your pace. Your wall squeeze around him and he groans, head falling onto your shoulder as he kisses your exposed breasts and collarbone. Soft whimpers and moans are leaving your lips, and that just seems to drive him further. His thumbs reaches down to press on your clit, and your back arches at the overstimulation.

"Ah- Lan, fuck, i-i can't. S'too much." You whine, licking your lips.

"You can take it, c'mon baby. Open your eyes, look at me." He says as you open your eyes to look at him. He bites his bottom lip. "Fuck, you're so goregous like this. I fuckin' love you so much, baby."

That's enough to drive you insane, gushing around him as your walls flutter around his throbbing length, your body falling forward as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. He follows suit, emptying himself inside you, groaning into your ear as you keep your grip on his sweaty curls, kissing his neck lazily.

"Did so good f'me, babe." He mutters, softly lifting you off of him. You whimper at the loss of him, feeling empty. he blindly reaches over to a towel beside him, softly placing you beside him and bringing the towel to between your legs. You whine as he grazes your overstimulated core, and he kisses your temple, apologising underneath his breath profusely. Lando may love pleasuring you, especially after good races, but he usually gets taken away and hurts you- and that's the last thing he wants.

"I'm sorry, my love. You know how i get after good races." He mutters, adjusting your underwear back over your core and pull your dress back down your thighs and up to cover up your breasts. He grabs a spare pair of boxers and jeans from the chair, before slipping on a clean shirt and walking back to you, lovingly tucking you against him. You breathe in his scent, the new clothes still heavy with his cologne.

"It's okay. I like celebrating with you, like this." You mutter, fingers tracing the soft veins in his neck. "I really am proud of you, Lan. I couldn't sit still those last few laps." You say, not meeting his eyes. He chases your gaze, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours.

"You were the one thing i thought of." He says, tucking your hair behind your ear. "You're my everything, love, and I couldn't think of anyone else better to celebrate with." He says, smiling.

A soft knock is heard behind the door.

"Right, you done shagging now ?" You go rigid at the Aussie accent, covering your reddening face. Lando laughs and answers,

"Come in, Osc !" Oscar pulls open the door, walking in on you snuggled into your boyfriends chest.

"Lily wanted me to ask if you guys want to go out for dinner."

"I dunno.. What do you think, darling ?" He asks, fiddling with your hair, softly brushing your cheek with his thumb."Think you'll be able to walk ?" He whispers. Your cheeks go red and you look up at Oscar, making sure he didn't hear. You shove at his face, rolling your eyes.

"We'd love to, Osc." He smiles at you, before leaving the room. Before he's fully out, he turns to face you guys.

"Also.. Maybe keep it down next time- the entire hospitality was shaking." He says, before finally turning away and leaving. You cover your face, embarassed, but Lando kisses your forehead affectionately.

"C'mon, love. We've got a proper celebration to get to." He says, helping you up. You frown.

"So that wasn't the celebration ?" You ask. He winks.

"No, baby. That was just the beginning, there's more coming when we get home, so you better get that little ass up and jog it into my car so i can devour you the second we cross that door." He says.

You don't think you've gotten up faster.

And of course, as always, Lando held up his end of the deal, your thighs shaking underneath the table at dinner with Oscar and Lily, his hand on your thigh.

If this is what winning a race is like, you never want him to lose ever again.

[grimsonandclover]

first prev

Sympathy is a knife.2

or; Wake up, I'm sorry.

Stanford!Tashi x tennis player!reader

Song of the post 'when you sleep - my bloody valentine'

Tashi Duncan visits you at the hospital. It could have been her.

SFW

2.4k words

you know the drill. injury, medical shit to the best of my ability which isnt a lot, tashi duncan being kinda gay??? homosexuality? in front of my salad? if you squint, reader being emo but like come on, hospitals, nurses, knee splints, DRUGS (the medical kind and morphine), reader is generally unwell but she also just came out of surgery, suicidal thoughts, more mentions of vicera, its the hospital episode (again) (like beach episodes but less horny and sexy and fanservicey more painful and ugly and intimate so nothing like a beach episode), enemies to idk what this is! I'm a native english speaker but i play fast and hard with the rules of the language (meaning i fuck up tenses a lot and don't catch it all in editing, but i know they're there so i think that makes it better), minimal use of Y/N but there are some points where I had to.

The steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor was the only indication that you were alive.

Tubes in your arm. Tubes in your throat. Hues of purple and yellow peaked from under the immobilizer brace and pins covering your leg and drainage tubes, matching with the same shades of color under your eyes.

Despite it all, she couldn't help but think you looked peaceful. You looked dead. The nurse said you were still knocked out from surgery and would be for a while. Tashi wondered if you were dreaming.

Tashi wondered if you always looked so lifeless in your sleep.

Her sepia eyes couldn't move from that leg. The bandaging, the knowing what's right under. She saw your soul, and then she saw your bones and blood. Tashi had cried in her mother's arms when it had fully hit her.

Tashi Duncan won the match. Your injury meant your forfeit. It didn't taste as sweet at she wanted, more bitter and even vexatious. She wanted to win through skill, not... this. It almost felt like you did this on purpose. You pitied her.

No, she knew that wasn't it. It was easier to blame you than accept the fate of an athlete. These things just... happen, sometimes. It could've been her, instead. But it wasn't. It was your bones that reached for the sunlight filtering down on the court amongst the blooming crimson, not hers. Tashi was here, standing before your resting form, with two perfectly functional knees.

When the nurse came and told her it was time to leave, and Tashi gathered her things from the small armchair in the corner of the room where she watched you from, she felt... strange. Changed.

The fan of your eyelashes on the tops of your cheeks, your pallor, the halo of hair framing your face and resting head. Those tubes. The IV. The heart rate monitor. The surgical steel pins securing your knee in place. Her eyes land on the small tattoo on your inner wrist, one she'd never noticed before. Tashi recognized them as your father's initials.

There was the girl she hated, softly asleep despite her surroundings. You almost looked beautiful, and then she got this feeling in her chest, and it startled her.

She pitied you.

Waking up was miserable. Your throat was dry like never before, the lights hurt your eyes worse than any hangover you've experienced, and the feeling of the scratchy hospital gown made you want to claw your skin off. You could hear your heart rate monitor, and in that moment you wished it would just flatline.

The sob that broke out, despite how dry you felt, when you saw the state of your knee, was ugly. Your nurse, Nurse Amanda, was a useless piece of shit. You had major respect for healthcare workers and everything that they have to go through on a daily basis, but Amanda could go fuck herself to hell. She's the one that had asked you for an autograph when you requested your brother's music to be played.

"Oh, your knee." She'd say casually while writing things down on a chart as disgusting, fat, blobs of salt ran down your face and chin and you tried to remember how to breathe properly. "Some physio and you'll be right back on the court or in the club. I'm sure."

"How," hiccup, "How much physio?" You try to wipe the tears, but more keep coming. It's like your eyes were sucking any moisture from your mouth and lips just to supply a fresh batch of them. Wasn't Amanda supposed to bring you water?

Fucking Amanda looks down at her chart, tapping a pen to her chin. You were on drugs, but no amount of them could completely rid the feeling of your knee and it freaked you out. Every time the corner of your eye caught on the metal pins that poked from it, you felt a shiver run through you. "About a year, possibly more, possibly less. It was a brutal break."

She covered her mouth sheepishly like she just told you the secret ingredient in a family recipe. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that."

No, she shouldn't have. It just makes you stare at your fucked leg even harder. It just makes the tears fall even more. The collar of your hospital gown, one a powder blue, now soaked a darker cornflower.

When Tashi returns, you've calmed down considerably-- mostly thanks to the increased dosage of morphine. It's been two days since, and it's actually hard to remember anything that happened that day. Or the day before, or when you first woke up this morning. God bless morphine.

Though you can't tell, Tashi hasn't changed from what she wore when she visited you yesterday. Nobody even told you that she came earlier, and she preferred it that way. She didn't know why she came back, or why her heart fluttered when the nurse told her that you'd woken up.

Tashi stood still at the door, and you lay exactly where you would stay for the foreseeable future on that damn hospital bed staring back at her. She noticed how you had such pained eyes. The harsh hospital light cast shadows from your browbones to your cheeks, draining color from your pupils. How'd she never seen it before? Words dried in her chest like withered flowers before they got the chance to bloom, and she could feel them sit there. Tashi honestly had no clue what she wanted to say. She could say "I'm sorry" or "Are you okay?" but those were useless words. She didn't like useless things.

When you spoke, and you spoke first after a long stretch of awkward silence and staring, your voice was clearer than it was earlier-- because Fucking Amanda finally remembered you might need hydrating after sobbing for three hours straight and major surgery. Despite that, you still spoke low and broken.

"What are you doing in New York?" She's meant to be back in France.

A pull between her eyebrows, like an invisible string being yanked. "What?"

You look aside at the circles of cleared dust. She heard you, you weren't that quiet.

"Fuck you." She slowly shakes her head. What she means is fuck you for questioning her, because she doesn't have a good answer. You can read between the lines.

You laugh at the suddenness of it, and then your head spins a little more. In a nice way, even though you're meant to be scared of her. "It's a reasonable question. You're meant to be playing against..."

"La Lourie."

"Right. Her. So, what are you doing in New York?" What are you doing here.

Tashi doesn't move from the door, arms crossed as her fingers pick at a loose string of her zip-up hoodie. She doesn't answer for a bit, eyes moving down to a spot on the floor. "I pulled out."

Your breath halts, looking up at her when her words pierce you like an arrow. You don't say anything, because really, you can't. What is there to say?

She finally steps in, leaning against the wall next to the door. An easy way out, and escape hatch. Tashi swallows thickly as the thread on the hoodie is pulled more and more. "I couldn't, uh," she blinks hard, shaking her head, "I couldn't go back out there. Not after that."

What an un-Tashi-like thing to say. She could've been in your place right now and she'd still get up and hobble to the courts, demanding someone play her. Yet, somehow, you ruined it for her. At least for now. She was meant to hate you.

"Your blood is... like, they cleaned it, but I swear I can still see it there. I had to leave."

"It's the French Open, Tashi--"

"And I'll win it next year. But, fuck, I can't play it now." she shakes her head with finality. "I tried, I went on the practice court but I could only picture you on the floor like that, crying and bloody and calling for your dad--"

Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to her. "What?"

The medical team rush from their tent onto the court, surrounding you almost the minute you crash and fall. You can't hear the scared murmurs of the croud, or the shaking breath of your opponent, or your own sobs. Just the blood rushing to your ears and out your knee.

Everyone saw how you clung to your leg, rocking back and forth on the clay. There's someone asking if you can move, someone calling for a stretcher. You just rock and cry.

"D-daddy," you whimper, eyes on the clear blue sky and swirling clouds as your vision blurs and doubles. "Dad, daddy where are you? I want my dad, I need my dad,"

The pain got so bad you stopped feeling it.

Those in the crowd who knew about your dad gasped. Amber stood frozen, watching, not knowing what the hell there was to do. Tashi couldn't feel her legs and her stomach turned. She ran off the court into the player's tunnel, spilling out into the first trashcan she could find. When they finally got you onto the stretcher and off the court, you'd passed out.

Naturally, it was all over the news. Players get injured all the time, but it wasn't often that players like you crashed and burned so brutally. News sites discussed and speculated in detail about the match, everything before, and everything after. TMZ reached out to Amber, who declined to give them any information, and even Tashi got called by a few publishers.

Amber came to your room an hour after Tashi left, rushing to your bedside as bombarding you with questions.

"Oh, fuck," She mumbled, looking over at the mess you were in. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't-- couldn't come sooner. I- I don't," words failed her. Sure, Amber was hard on you, and maybe she considered leaving your career in the hands of someone more emotionally capable very often, but she did care for you. Like a sick, twisted mother-daughter relationship despite the fact she was only a couple years older.

You could tell how hard she tried to not look at your leg, to keep her eyes focused on your top half. You could almost hear the anxiety going on inside that head of hers. The job insecurity must be wild. Where'd she get her check now?

Patrick was next. He almost threw up from a mix of the jet lag and seeing you. "Jesus fuck, Y/N."

He couldn't walk all the way in at first, staying by the door like Tashi had earlier. It was so much. "I got on a plane the second I could. God, this is sick."

It took him a while to come in and not feel faint, sitting by your bedside and not letting his eyes zero in on The Knee. Patrick wasn't a religious man, not by far, but he felt like praying for you.

Your mother was last. Nothing much to note there, it was a silent visit only interrupted by a call she 'had to take'. She didn't return. Seline sent a card which now lies facedown and unopened on the bedside table.

A hand on her shoulder startles Tashi from her vacant staring at her knee, a soft "We're here, Tash." from the driver's seat telling her they're home. It's been a week, now, since your fall. Looking up at the passenger's seat mirror, Tashi can see soft circles darkening under bloodshot eyes, a testament to the night terrors she's been greeted with every time she closes her eyes.

She was meant to move out ages ago from her childhood home but never quite got there. Art said it was because she was secretly sentimental, but Tashi just assumed it was cause her bed only felt right in that room. Nothing felt right, now.

Tashi helps her mother carry in the groceries, Nat and Renee bickering at the table about one thing or the other instead of helping. The older sister doesn't really hear, the words just pass through her as one bag, then another is set on the counters. She's asked to pick a side, the answer is a dismissive hand wave, their mother tells the twins to leave Tashi to breathe.

They've been tiptoeing around her all week but she's too zoned out to bother to tell them to stop. The truth is, Tashi doesn't feel like Tashi. She feels replaced, swapped out. A part of her kicks and screams at her for withdrawing from the Open, and everyone around her can tell.

Every time she sees her knees, she thinks about how it could've been her on the ground screaming, crying out for her mom or dad. Tennis was her fucking lifeline, thinking of it being ripped away like that in a blink of an eye... something in her head throbs and Tashi flops back onto her bed, staring at her blank ceiling.

She feels like she's swimming through life in a pool of shock. Nothing sounds full, everything feels slightly blurry against her skin. Art keeps calling and texting, asking if she's alright, if he should come over. She dismisses him every time. Her mother knows she needs her space to process everything, but now it feels like everything is giving her space. Too much space. She's suffocating.

Tashi forgot to ask for your number. She really wants to talk to you, despite it all. God, she can't even remember why she decided she hated you. Was there a reason at all? Did she hate you cause she felt like she had to, because everyone else did? It was like with Britney or Amy, watching them go through shit and instead of sympathizing, criticizing. Is that what Tashi was doing? Wasn't she better than that? Losing to you hurt, that was for sure, and she didn't exactly respect the DUI, but everything else... why did it matter so much to her?

All the shit-talking, all the tabloids about you she read, all the gossip she'd listen to intently from other players. It made her sick to think about, because now, and only now, she saw you as the person you were. It only took you losing it all for her to see.

Didn't her mother raise her better than that?

She grabs a pillow, pulling it over her face to block out the world. Downstairs she can hear the argument between Nat and Renee heat up, her father in the next room on a work call, her mother making fresh juice in the kitchen. The neighbor's dog, Lucky, is barking outside. Someone's starting a car. Art's new text buzzes her phone.

Tashi thinks about how the whole world moves on while you're stuck in that bed, and how it could have been her.

first prev

[elysiaheaven]

do you take requests? if you do, could i request ronin with a jirai kei/landmine mc? (landmine is typically used to refer to a girl (although, it can also be a guy) who is mentally unwell and on the verge of exploding, usually someone with bpd or bipolar)

if not, i 100% understand 😊

hi! I'm really tried my best to research if it's not accurate I'm so sorry.. also it's so cringe I made it so fluff imaooo

Words:1000!

Summary: you are bandaging him after a small accident

Genre: Fluff

Devotion-Ronin x G.N reader ^^

The air in your small apartment stinks of antiseptic. You’re kneeling on the stained carpet, frantically wrapping Ronin’s arm in gauze, trying to keep his skin together before the bleeding gets worse. His grin—obnoxious, smug, and endlessly irritating—remains intact despite the gash running from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“Should’ve seen it, babe. You should’ve seen how his face split open,” he chuckles, his voice raspy and far too casual for someone who just narrowly escaped murder charges. “I swear, it was art.”

You yank the bandage tighter than necessary, making him flinch.

"Ow. Easy, sweetheart."

“Shut up,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice cutting through the room like a knife. Your fingers tremble as you fasten the gauze into place, rage bubbling in your chest, threatening to boil over. It’s like every nerve in your body is frayed, ready to snap in half. “Just shut the hell up, Ronin. For five seconds. Do you know how close you were to getting caught? I had to drag your stupid body out of there!”

He doesn’t even flinch at the outburst. In fact, his grin grows wider, eyes gleaming with some twisted amusement. He’s enjoying this—the way you’re unraveling in front of him like a ribbon being pulled too hard from both ends.

“You’re so cute when you yell,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall, as if you aren't seething just inches away. "All dolled up in that pretty skirt, screaming like a little time bomb. God, I love you."

You grab a loose pillow from the couch and throw it at his face.

The pillow bounces off Ronin’s chest, but he catches it effortlessly, laughing softly under his breath. The sound grates on your nerves like nails on glass. You shove his shoulder—his injured shoulder—and he winces, though the grin never leaves his face.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

Before you can finish, he moves faster than you expect. His uninjured arm snakes around your waist, yanking you against him, despite your furious squirming. “What didja think, huh? That you were just gonna walk out on me?” His voice drops, a teasing drawl laced with menace, his words slithering into your ear.

"Let me go," you hiss, thrashing against his hold, but it’s no use. He tightens his grip, holding you firm like he’s cradling something precious that might shatter at any moment—and, God, maybe you will. The tension coiled inside you, the pressure building up like a bomb, is unbearable.

“Not happening, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to the top of your head, a mockery of tenderness. “Where else would you go, huh? You need me just as much as I need you.”

You hate how his words crawl under your skin, how they make you freeze for a moment too long. He knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to sink his claws in. You’ve tried so hard to stay composed, to keep the storm inside at bay, but with Ronin, the cracks in your armor spread faster than you can patch them.

"Don’t…" your voice falters, but you push at him again, weaker this time. "Don’t act like you care." The frustration and sadness twist together, tightening your chest like barbed wire. You hate him for making you feel this raw, this open.

“Oh, I care, darlin’. I care so much it hurts.” His hand slides up your back, slow and deliberate, grounding you even as you try to shove him away again. "That’s why you patched me up, didn’t you? You were scared."

"You almost got caught," you whisper, barely keeping it together. Your breathing’s erratic, the words stumbling out in broken pieces. "And now I’m stuck here… cleaning up your mess… again."

Ronin’s hand drifts up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb traces the edge of your lips with a gentleness that makes your stomach turn. "You don’t have to fight me, sweetheart. I like you exactly the way you are—messy, angry, perfect.”

And that’s the worst part: You know he means it. He loves the chaos, feeds off it. Every time you teeter on the edge of breaking, he pulls you closer, cradling your madness like it’s something beautiful. And it scares you—how easily you could fall apart in his arms, how much you want to.

You sag against him, exhausted from the struggle, your body giving out before your mind can. Ronin’s arms tighten around you, holding you like a lifeline, like he knew all along you’d give in.

“There you go, Darling” he murmurs, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "I’ve got you."

You lean into Ronin’s embrace, the tension in your muscles slowly unraveling as you sink against him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of your frayed nerves. The soft thump of your heart beats steadily in your ears, a chaotic rhythm matching the swirl of emotions fighting for dominance within you.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, almost conspiratorial, as if he’s sharing a secret meant only for you. “You’re a walking time bomb, but that’s what makes you so interesting.” He leans back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze, his devilish smirk never fading. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch a beautiful disaster unfold?”

You scowl at him, not in the mood for his games. “You think this is funny? You’re the reason I’m falling apart.”

Ronin chuckles softly, clearly amused. “Oh, babe, it’s way more entertaining than funny. You’re like a high-wire act without a safety net. Plus,” he adds, nudging your shoulder with his, “it’s not like I’m the one keeping secrets in a bloody basement.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You don’t get it. This is real for me.” The shadows of your bipolar disorder loom large, threatening to engulf you. Some days, you can handle everything—navigate the chaos, juggle the highs and lows—but other days? It’s like being caught in a whirlwind, and right now, it feels like you’re spiraling toward the edge.

Ronin’s expression shifts, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more earnest. “Then let’s just be a mess together, yeah?” His fingers brush against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I mean, we can be extra dysfunctional, and I’m all in."

“Dysfunctional isn’t the half of it,” you mutter, your voice softer, the edge of your anger dulling as you look into his dark eyes, searching for a flicker of understanding.

“Ah, but that’s where the fun lies.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, teasingly whispering, “Besides, being a little devilish is my specialty. It’s like… embracing the chaos instead of running from it.”

You want to resist his allure, the way he pulls you in with every word, but there’s an undeniable comfort in his presence. He seems to understand the storm raging inside you, even when you barely grasp it yourself. “What if I explode?” you ask, half-joking, half-terrified of the reality that sits beneath the surface.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he promises, deadpan, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “And we’ll make a real mess of things. I’ll grab a mop, and you can scream all you want. Just don’t think for a second that I’d let you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a fraction. “You’re impossible.”

“Exactly.” He leans back against the wall, still cradling you in his arms. “And that’s why you love me.”

You push at his shoulder playfully, but there’s no real force behind it. “I don’t love you. I tolerate you.”

“Oh, please.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning like a cat who just caught the canary. “You’re wrapped around my finger, darling. But that’s okay; I like you a little unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” you echo, the term sending a shiver through you. It’s a label you often grapple with, one that feels too close to home.

“Yeah, it’s like a badge of honor.” His eyes gleam as he continues, “You’re wild, unpredictable, and a bit of a mess. It’s like your own personal chaos aesthetic.” He lifts his hands in mock exaggeration, as if you’re some rare work of art. “And don’t forget—you’re mine. I can handle the explosion.”

His confidence in you is infuriating, but also oddly reassuring. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You really think I can just… manage it all?”

Ronin nods, his gaze unwavering. “Of course. It’s all about balance, babe. You’ve got the fire; I’ve got the chaos. Together, we’re a beautiful disaster.”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep me around. See? That makes you the worst, too.” His smirk returns, cocky and playful. “You’re just as twisted as I am.”

“Not even close,” you retort, but the laughter in your voice betrays you.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You just wait, sweetheart. I’ll help you embrace your wild side. You’ll see.”

The uncertainty lingers, but for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace, comforted by the warmth and chaos he brings. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today.

You sink deeper into Ronin's embrace, the tension easing from your shoulders as his warmth envelops you. Your mind is still a jumble of emotions, but the soft fabric of your oversized hoodie—a faded black with intricate, pastel-hued patches—feels comforting against your skin.

“Nice hoodie, babe. I love how you rock that look,” Ronin said sarcastically, his fingers grazing the delicate lace trim at the sleeves. “So perfectly chaotic. It’s like you’re ready to explode at any moment.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile threatens to break through. “It’s called style. Not everything has to be about violence, you know.” Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, exposing the frilly strap of the pink lace tank underneath. You feel ridiculous, and yet… it’s part of who you are.

Ronin chuckles, tugging playfully at the hem of your hoodie. “It’s a cute look. That top is like a warning sign, and the ruffles are practically screaming for attention.” His tone is teasing, but there's a hint of sincerity behind it that makes your heart flutter.

“Like your bloody bandages aren’t attention-grabbing enough?” you shoot back, gesturing toward the makeshift dressing he’s wrapped around his arm. You can’t help but notice how the contrast between your softer, pastel colors and his dark attire highlights the chaos you both embody. His signature look—black ripped jeans, a loose maroon tee, and a battered leather jacket—only enhances his devil-may-care attitude.

“Hey, it’s all about the aesthetic,” he says, his grin wide and unapologetic. “You can’t have a true chaos vibe without a little blood, after all.”

You snort, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “You’re such a punk.”

“And you’re my..darling.” he retorts, the wicked glint in his eyes making you blush. “Just think of it this way: We’re the perfect match. You’re the ticking time bomb in frills and lace, and I’m the charming devil.”

The juxtaposition of your two styles feels almost poetic in its absurdity. Your layered fishnet stockings peek out from beneath your frayed mini skirt, adorned with silver hardware and mismatched patches that tell stories of their own. Each piece of clothing is a reflection of your inner turmoil, each stitch a reminder of the battles fought and the scars worn like badges.

“Do you really think I’m cute like this?” you ask, vulnerability creeping into your voice. It’s not something you often share, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he’s studying you.

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful, even with..."

The soft fabric of your oversized T-shirt brushes against Ronin’s arm, the pastel pink covered in faint rips and band logos, a perfect reflection of your chaotic style. The high-waisted black skirt, shorts you wear flares slightly as you shift, the hem adorned with delicate lace that clashes and complements your chaotic aesthetic all at once.

You roll your eyes, the playful banter bringing a flicker of warmth to your cheeks. “Shut up. At least I’m not wearing a beanie indoors.”

“Hey, this beanie is a fashion statement,” he replies, his tone dripping with mock indignation as he pats the plum-colored fabric atop his head. “It keeps the artistic vibes alive, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you glance down at your outfit. The contrast of your clothes—delicate ruffles and lace with a touch of punk rock—makes you feel both fierce and fragile, just like your mind. The jirai kei aesthetic reflects you.. it's just your style..

“See? You’re practically a walking art piece.” Ronin shifts slightly, cradling you tighter against him, his thumb tracing the edge of your lace-trimmed collar. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a person like you on their arm?”

You huff, your expression softening despite your best efforts. “Just because I wear ruffles doesn’t mean I’m not capable of causing chaos.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice low, and suddenly serious. “That’s what I love about you. You’re a contradiction, and it’s beautiful.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. You want to protest, to throw his words back at him, but instead, you find yourself melting further into his embrace. You can feel the tension in your body start to dissolve, even as the swirling storm in your mind rages on.

“Do you remember the first time I saw you in a stupid call?” Ronin continues, a playful lilt returning to his voice. “You were wearing that black and white striped shirt with a collar—adorable, and yet I could tell there was something simmering underneath.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop staring at me..I think?" you shoot back, trying to redirect the conversation, but the warmth in your chest only grows.

“It was the combination of the pastel colors,” he says, pretending to think deeply. “You looked like a cute little time bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you fight the urge to bury your face in his chest. “Stop it.”

“Nope,” he says with a playful grin. “I’ll never stop. You’re like a little —adorable on the outside, and then boom!” He gestures dramatically, hands exploding outward as if reenacting your metaphorical detonation.

You can’t help but laugh, even though a part of you is still tense, a storm cloud brewing in the background. “I am not like that! I mean it's we....”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone teasing yet tender, “you definitely are. But that just makes me want to be around you more. I’ll be here when you go off. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift your weight slightly, the hem of your clothing brushing against his jeans. “You might want to reconsider that.”

“Never. I’m addicted to your chaos.” He smirks, running a finger along the edge of your lace. “And besides, I think you need a little devilish distraction in your life.”

“Distraction?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Or danger?”

“Both. It’s a package deal,” he winks, the devil-may-care attitude shining through. “And trust me, with your flair for the dramatic and my penchant for chaos, we’ll create our own beautiful mess.”

You breathe in deeply, the tension slowly ebbing away as you absorb his playful confidence. The combination of your styles—his dark punk vibes and your jirai kei flair—creates a unique blend that feels so distinctly you.

“I guess I’m lucky to have you around to catch me when I explode,” you say, a soft smile breaking through the storm clouds in your mind.

“You bet,” he replies, his grin wide and mischievous. “But don’t think for a second I won’t enjoy the explosion, darling. I thrive in the chaos; I’ve told you before.”

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress a giggle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“True, but you love it.” He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You shift slightly in Ronin’s embrace, the soft couch enveloping you like a cocoon, but the clock on the wall catches your eye. It’s getting late, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “I really should head home,” you say reluctantly, glancing towards the door.

“Why?” He looks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve already made a mess of my heart, darling. You think I’ll let you just waltz out of here?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the weight of your worries lightening for a moment. “I don’t want to disturb you, Ronin. I mean, you probably have… things to do.”

“Things to do?” He quirks an eyebrow, feigning incredulity. “What could possibly be more interesting than this?” He gestures dramatically around the room as if it’s a grand stage, but the intensity in his gaze is undeniable. “Just stay. I promise I won’t bite—much.”

You feel a flutter of excitement mixed with anxiety. “I don’t know. It’s late…”

“Please?” he adds, his voice lowering, taking on a soft, coaxing tone that makes your heart race. “Just stay a little longer. What’s the harm in that?”

Your resolve wavers, and you can feel the familiar tug of his devilish charm pulling you closer. “I really should…” you start, but he interrupts, playfully pushing you down on the couch. You can’t help but gasp as he pins you gently against the cushions, his body hovering over yours.

“What was that about going home?” he whispers, his face inches from yours, the warmth radiating from him sending shivers down your spine. Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Stay,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again, deeper this time, his fingers tangling in your hair as if anchoring you to this moment.

You melt into him, the taste of him overwhelming your senses—spicy and sweet, the essence of him intoxicating. His kisses are fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels without words.

You push against him slightly, your thoughts a chaotic swirl, but the way he holds you tight makes it hard to think straight. “Ronin…” you whisper, but he kisses you again, silencing your protests.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Your worries slip away, replaced by the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. You pull him closer, surrendering to the need building inside you. His kisses become a frantic melody, a rhythm that drowns out your thoughts and worries.

You realize you’ve given up the argument, leaning into him, the hesitation fading away. This is where you want to be—lost in the chaos, the devilish embrace of someone who understands your darkness. No words are needed; the warmth of his kisses speaks volumes, each one whispering a promise of what could be.

Ronin’s hold on you tightens, a possessive gesture that makes your heart race even faster. He can be so devilish, and yet, here in this moment, everything feels just right.

[wasteofbandagesxx]

Baby I'm yours

{Chuuya x Reader}

Chuuya was going to surprise you. He wanted to do something special for his girlfriend. He adores you, he cares for you, and he loves you. Today he was going to treat you like a queen, it's the least he can do for all your hard work and care. You've always been concerned for his health and gave him as much affection as possible. You've been so sweet to him ever since day one, he wants this surprise to be an appreciation gift. He just wants to show how grateful he is to have a partner like you.

You've been unwell, this weak was pure trash because of constant missions, errands, toxic friends, ect. You just needed time to yourself, or time with someone you love.

Luckily your guy's 2 year anniversary was today, and there is no way in hell Chuuya would let anything ruin your guy's special day. He made Mori give you fewer assignments, Chuuya threatened anyone that was bothering you, and for some reason you didn't have to run any errands today. Obviously because your beloved boyfriend did all the work for you. He didn't get much sleep from staying up till 4 am planning your special day. Where are the reports? He did them all. Is there anything big you need to do today for work? Nope, Chuuya's got that covered. He's such a sweetheart, he would do anything for you to make sure your in the perfect mood to spend time together.

"Babe! Babe! I'm off work now, let's go get some ice cream." Chuuya couldn't be anymore cuter as he jumped at you and clings onto your arm like a kid winning a prize. "I don't see why not. There should be an Ice cream shop around the corner, good thing we're done with work because it closes in half an hour." You kept him close and made your way over to the ice cream shop called "Takeaway. " It's an ice cream shop that apparently brings people together. Rumors say that if you eat their ice cream, you will fall in love and find your soul mate, but again its just a silly rumor. Chuuya was all giggly and happy, you didn't know why or what he was up to, but you just went along with it.

"Heyyy welcome! What can I get for you guys today?" Asks the girl that was serving Ice cream. "I'll have 2 cookie dough, one for me and the lovely lady right here."

"Ohh lovely lady huh? I thought she was your friend or something, good for you though." She had a slight look of disgust on her face but you didn't mind it at first. Some girls always react like this, Chuuya is attractive after all. "You should come by sometimes, you seem like an interesting person. Where do you work?" The lady asks while getting the ice creams. "Your guy's ice creams are amazing, this is my favorite shop after all and I work at uhh...mcdonald's?"

You found it suspicious how she suddenly wanted to get to know him more, but your thoughts were cut off the moment your boyfriend lied about his job. "Oh...mcdonald's? That sucks, but at least you get paid more than I do. You should probably work here as your 2nd job, we could have a lot of fun together. You can get free snacks and ice cream as well." The lady said with a hint of flirting in her voice, her eyes fluttering as she talks to your man in a "friendly" tone.

She hands you your ice cream and continues having a conversation with your boyfriend. You looked at her from head to toe, you realized how pretty she was. You felt a bit insecure and you didn't want to get the wrong idea, maybe she was just being friendly but then you second guess yourself into thinking she's interested in Chuuya.

Chuuya was showing slight discomfort towards the lady once she started asking personal questions but she didn't seem to get the memo that he's not interested in her. He noticed your discomfort and well and thought to himself that they should leave. But then an unexpected question came out of the lady's mouth.

"You wanna come drink with me at my house tonight?"

He couldn't be any more disturbed. He grabbed your waist and pulled you close and gave the lady a nice smile before saying, "No thanks, it's our anniversary and I want to spend time with my beloved girlfriend." Your face turned slightly red at his bold move in front of the girl. She scoffed and rolled her eyes but then played it off with a smile, "Alright then, enjoy your ice creams."

Chuuya snickers and walks off with you by his side, enjoying his delicious ice cream, he noticed how sad you looked when you weren't saying anything, you hardly even touched your ice cream. "Hey baby, I'm sorry that happened back there. There's no need to be jealous, I promise your better than her and I'm yours forever." He said, trying to comfort you. "I don't like girls who are that bold, it's disgusting. I like you because your fucking amazing and so much more. Cmon, eat your ice cream before it melts, or before I eat it because I am very tempted to."

He playfully reaches for your ice cream and you pull away while laughing at him. "No, it's mine you pig!" You immediately ate your cookie dough and he gasped dramatically with a hand on his chest. You eventually got home, and you were expecting to go to sleep or watch a movie before bed. But Chuuya has other plans, he quickly drags you inside the apartment with your eyes closed, and closed the door behind you guys. "Ready love?" He whispers in your ear, making you blush and turn red like a strawberry. You slowly open your eyes when he tells you to, and you couldn't believe what you saw in front of you.

Candles were lit up on the table and counter, on the table were delicious food and a small jewelry box with a bow on it, a teddy bear was sitting next to the jewelry box with a bouquet of flowers leaving against it. Music suddenly starts playing, it a romantic song, one of your favorites. You couldn't be anymore happier. "Aww, honey." You immediately hugged him and giggled in joy, thanking him for the lovely gifts. He lifts up your chin and leans in close before pressing his soft lips against yours. You kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck with your leg getting wrapped around his hips. He holds onto your leg and lower back as the kiss started to get heated. He couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to melt right into you. He grabs your other leg and wraps it around his waist as well and pins you against the wall while he kisses you like a man starved. Your fingers caressed his beautiful ginger hair, getting lost in the feeling, but it soon came to an end as Chuuya pulled away with a shaky break, admiring you. "Let's eat yea? I've had someone prepare the food for us before we got here so let's eat before it gets cold." He gently puts you back down on the ground and takes your hand before guiding you to the kitchen.

The food smelled and looked amazing, you were basically drooling and Chuuya chuckled. "Come sit." He pulls the chair back for you to sit on before scooting it close to the table once you sat down. He took a seat across from you and you both began to enjoy your meal.

Later on, you were admiring the gifts. In the small box was a golden necklace, a locket with a picture of you and Chuuya inside. Of course, you didn't forget about today. Of course you've been stressing about a lot of things but you didn't forget to surprise your boyfriend with gifts as well. You gave him a teddy bear that matched his hair color, a golden watch with your initials carved in the back, and a rose. He couldn't be anymore happier. "Thank you love, you didn't have to. I love your gifts, I really do. But the gift that makes me the happiest, is you." He quickly got up and walked over to your side of the table before picking you up again and kissing you. He made his way to your guy's bedroom as you cling onto him tightly, you guys didn't dare to break apart from the kiss. Chuuya kicked the door open and made his way over to the bed before gently putting you down.

He climbs on top of you and kisses you again, and again, and again. You were like a drug, he was addicted to you. His tongue slithers inside your mouth, the kiss became more passionate and dirty, as if it was never going to end. He pulls away and attacks your neck with hickeys and love bites, marking up your neck. It was his favorite thing to do, as if you were a lollipop, a favorite candy of his. He took the time to worship your body, taking things nice and slow. He slowly removes your shirt, and you began to unbutton his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders and grabbing his hands for a quick moment. He looked at you confused but soon got the memo as you began to take his gloves off with your teeth. "Fuck doll, your so sexy yknow that?" He throws your shirt onto the floor and continued to worship you, you couldn't help but giggle at his words, and he found it adorable. He stopped for a moment to admire your beauty, everything about you.

He cups your face and gives you another kiss, a gentle, loving kiss. It wasn't any normal kiss, but a slow yet passionate one. He gives you a quick peck on the lips and smiles softly, he couldn't get enough of you.

"Baby I'm yours."

[trensu]

Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!

--

After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.

“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.

“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.” 

Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.

“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”

“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.

“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.

“Me? He wants to see me?”

“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”

“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.

“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”

Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.

"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”

“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.

“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”

Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.

The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse. 

Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition. 

By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.

He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.

“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"

Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.

“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”

“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously. 

“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”

There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.

“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.

“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”

“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes: 

Lord of Night,  Guide us through all phases Of the moon; May the dark be free of All dangers, While your many stars burn.

Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.

“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.

“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”

Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.

“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked. 

He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest? 

“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”

“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.

“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod. 

The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.

“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.

“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said. 

Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.

Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve. 

“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly. 

“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said. 

The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.

“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

[howi99]

A story of a Knight and a Yokai (part 1?)

(Btw, if you are a touhou fan, go read Osana Reimu. And if you are not, still go read it. It's the entire reason why i'm writing this)

RK: *waking up on a road* ... Wha... I'm alive? ... Guess the poison wasn't strong enough to kill me. *Get up, still feeling weak* Damn, what DID she put in that soup? It's like being inside a bullhead... *Looks around, not seeing Juniper... Or anything remotely recognizable* Is that... A temple? Where am i?

Nothing but the wind answered him

RK: Tsk, that's just great. No, really that's just perfect. I so wanted something new in the pile of crap that is my current life. Now i need to find Juniper and go save those kids before the cat can... *As he spoke, Jaune felt like something wasn't right* Uh... *Looking at the sky, something was missing* wait, where's the tree?!

*crack*

RK: *turning to where the sound came from, his broken sword now unsheathed* Ok, seems i'm back in the real world. So Grimm's are back in play. *Small smile* Can't be harder than a manticore or a dragon.

A woman comes out from the forest

RK: ... Or i could also just be paranoid. *Sigh, re-sheathing his sword* Who comes there? And can i also get a direction to the nearest town or city?

The woman looks at him, perplexed

RK: ...! Oh uh yeah, the armor. Don't worry, i am not a bandit, i'm just lo-

Woman: Aren't you afraid of me?

RK: ... Why, you don't really radiate bloodlust or anything, so i don't really get why i should be afraid.

Woman: *looking at him even more perplexed* You... Do you know who i am?

RK: No idea.

Woman: Aren't you from the village?

RK: *look at himself then at her* I look like i just came out of a fantasy book, why would i come from anywhere near here?

Woman: But it doesn't make sense! How did you survive the Yokai?

RK: The what now?

Woman: *roll her eyes* Vampire, ghost and all that.

RK: ... Sorry to ask a weird question, but... Are we on remnant?

Woman: What?

RK: ... And here i hoped i was finally out of hell. *Sigh* Well, can i get the direction of the tree? I need to go kill a curious cat.

Woman: ... What tree? And cat? You mean Chen?

RK: Who the hell is Chen? No i mean the literal curious cat. You know, a trickster psychopath but in a literal cat body?

Woman: I mean... I never heard of him. As for the tree, i mean there's the forest of magic, but it's not like there's one specific magic tree.

RK: Isn't this the ever after?

Woman: ... No? This is Gensokyo.

RK: ... Tell me, is the moon shattered?

Woman: *sigh* Why would it be?

RK: *to himself* So either i'm before the gods left or... *Look at the woman* Last question, are the brother gods still living among men?

Woman: ... Who?

RK: *crestfallen, thinking to himself* I can't believe it... First i have to kill a friend so the world doesn't end. Secondly, i fell through the world and ended up in fantasy land so i could fuck up again by getting sent back in time. Thirdly, i waited centuries to get back to my timeline but discovered i was the hero from a book, try to follow the story only to get poisoned and now this? Is this a joke? Can life stop being a bitch for once?

Woman: *noticing the knight looking unwell* uh... You ok?

RK: *let himself fall face down to the ground, his aura protecting him by reflex* I think i will lay down and let myself die.

Woman: ... *Sigh, then mumble to herself* How low the most feared yokai has fallen. Can't believe him doing this... *Approach Jaune* Oi, get up.

RK: *face in dirt* Lef meh di.

Woman: *sigh again, then knell down to pick Jaune up like a sac of potato* You can't just die in the middle of the road. What would the people coming to the temple would say?

RK: *says nothing*

Woman: Tsk... Name's Rumia, if you were wondering. *Waiting for an answer* ... You are supposed to tell me yours, you know?

RK: ... I don't remember my name.

Rumia: Ah! What a joke! You look no older than 30, no way you forgot-

RK: *sigh* I'm centuries old, my aura kept me young by repairing any damage made to my body.

Rumia: *interested* What's that?

RK: What's what?

Rumia: Aura.

RK: Ah... Of course, new world new rules... Aura is the manifestation of the soul. It can protect, heal and make attacks more powerful.

Rumia: *nods* Seems useful.

RK: Yeah, there's also something called a semblance, which is derived from aura. It's an ability which is unique to every aura user with some exceptions.

Rumia: Hm, we have something similar here. But why would humans need this?

RK: ... *Sigh* Fine, i'll explain to you everything about my world, can you put me down?

Rumia: Will you lay down and wait for death again?

RK: I'll... find a better place.

Rumia: Oh, but can you wait before explaining everything? I know someone who will really want to listen to this!

RK: ... Sure.

Rumia: *putting him down* By the way, if you forgot your name, what should we call you?

RK: *shrug* I don't really care anymore. But the book i'm from called me the Rusted knight.

Rumia: *looking at his armor* Doesn't look that rusted to me.

RK: *shake his head* Well, they meant my sword... I assume.

Rumia: The broken piece of junk? Why didn't you throw it away?

RK: *thinking back at what he did* Long story and a part of my life i will never forget.

Rumia: Yesh, not a fan of talking about your past i see.

RK: Oh i don't mind talking about all my adventures, just... Not what came before.

Both of them start walking

Rumia: ... I think i should tell you that i'm technically a dangerous Yokai who eats humans.

RK: ... I see.

Rumia: You don't see surprised or upset.

RK: Well, you didn't try to eat me and i can see you are trying to make me less... Hateful toward myself? So i'm guessing the technically mean either you eat bad people, which i don't care for or you stopped... Which i'm fine with.

Rumia: *placing her arms behind her head* Second one. Got beaten half-dead by the drunkard who runs the place *sigh*

RK: *nods* Sounds rough. So she got you on a leash or-

???: Rumia!

RK: *look at the top of the stairs, seeing a woman wearing... A box for a mask?* ... I assume she's the drunkard?

Rumia: *smile* Yep, she's the one.

Crazy Woman?: *sigh, shaking her head* And here i was wondering where you were. Reimu was panicking when you bolted away. *Now noticing Jaune* Oh? You brought company? I never saw you in the village.

RK: I'm not from around here.

Crazy Woman?: Yeah, like half the village.

RK: Half the village comes from a world where animals talk, fruit make you travel in time and a giant tree keep bringing people back from the dead with a better body but no memory?

Crazy Woman?: ... Uh... N-no?

RK: *shrug* Eh, was worth a shot.

Crazy Woman?: *look at Rumia* Is... Is he... You know....

RK: I'm not mad... *Seems to think a bit* Nevermind, i meant i'm not that crazy. Living with no human interaction for centuries did drive me a bit crazy. Just enough to accept a lot of weird things as normal. Like your head accessory... Is that a donation box?

Crazy Woman?: Speaking of! *Walk down the stairs* You got money for the temple?

RK: *look inside his pockets* I got a copper piece, two silver drakki, a couple of gold coins and... Well, now i know where she found the poison. *Take the silvers and give them to the miko*

Crazy Woman?: *take them quickly* Oh oh! Nevermind the first impressions, i think i already like you, now!

Rumia: *getting impatient* Can we get going?

Crazy Woman?: Oh yeah, of course! *Goes back the stairs, humming a happy song*

RK: She seems happy.

Rumia: Well, you just gave away the equivalent of what she gets in a month.

RK: ... *Shrug then start walking up the stairs* Fair enough, i'd be happy too... I think? I completely forgot the value of money since silver was the least valuable in the ever after.

Rumia: *following him* Then what's the most valuable?

RK: Mithril, but i didn't have any on me. At least in money form.

Rumia: You got some?

RK: *point at his armor* It's mostly made of it. It takes years to rust and even then it only takes a bit to get rid of it. It's a good insulator, so it keeps me warm when it's cold and fresh when it's scorching hot. It's not really stronger than steel, but with my aura, i don't need it to be.

Rumia: *nods*

RK: It can also repair itself. Slowly, but it's better than having to wait for a smith to be available, you know?

Rumia: I honestly can't since i don't wear armor.

RK: Speaking of, what is the technology level here? We have scroll or?

Rumia: Scroll?

RK: Phone?

Rumia: In the human world, i think they have those? I'm not sure.

RK: Electricity and heated water?

Rumia: oh yeah, we got those.

RK: *sigh in relief* After all these years, a nice hot bath would be nice...

[chibigaia-art]

Do you have any favorite webcomics?

oh boy, do I

ok, addressing the elephant in the room immediately: homestuck. just read it. don't read anything after the main webcomic ends, don't get into the epilogues, or the sequel, but hs? fun, still love it dearly.

now for the others!!!!

Paranatural - middle schoolers with supernatural powers fight supernatural entities, it's one of the funniest thing I ever read that also managed to punch me in the gut and make me want to draw even more

Sleepless Domain - magical girls protect the city at night from monsters. Everything is fine until things happen :)

Heartstrings (18+) pop star/punk lesbians :]

webtoons:

Public U. Art Club - it's an art club. liloth my beloved

Cursed Princess Club - story about self love and acceptance, I just really really love this comic and I am still so happy I followed it while it was updating. It's finished so it's a good binge read!

Love Advice from the Great Duke of Hell - this one is also finished, idk how to pitch it, just read it, it's so fucking funny, also read Vampire Family from the same author

also on tapas:

Fantasy x Grounds (I'd say 18+ for this one too) - the summary on the page just says "A funny fantasy comic with nameless characters". This is true but it's also a lie, it's also a fantasy comic full of heartaches and characters that feel like real people This one is from an italian author and I've been following it for years, I'm so in love with the story, the characters and their arcs it makes me unwell. There is an english translation and that version has updated art on old pages, some fixes for colors and redrawn sequences that are very very cool - the translation itself is also kinda rough at first but it gets better. I will also say, the earlier parts of the comic didn't age super well BUT. IT'S SUCH A GOOD COMIC. YOU HAVE TO SEE WHAT FUCKERY HAPPENS LATER, YOU HAVE TO SEE THE INSANE THINGS THEY FIGHT. YOU HAVE TO READ THE [MOONANGEL KING] ARC BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE MY FAVOURITE GUY STARTS BREAKING FOR REAL

edit also if you read any of these pls let me know what you think

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 7

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You have a conversation with Elvis which leads to something he doesn't expect.

TW: kissing, vomiting

Word Count: 1999

A/N: Ah the cliffhanger, there will be more in the next one though! It will be out soon!

You take a deep breath as you prepare to knock on his door. You waited until Sonny had to leave to go on an errand so you could talk to him alone. You raise your hand in a fist reaching to knock.

You can't do it.

Turning to go back to your room, the door to his bedroom opens. You spin back around and he stands there with his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"You need somethin' honey? Why are you lingering?"

"Um yes, I do."

There is a long beat as you just stand there looking at him. You feel completely paralyzed. Leaning against his door frame, he takes in your state, sensing your anxiety.

"Is something the matter?"

You swallow.

"Yes."

The palm of his hand travels to his face as he rubs his cheek. He hums, and you see a quick flicker of fear cross his face before he masks it. Another moment goes by as you two look at each other. He clears his throat.

"Well, I can't help you if you don't say anything, can I?" he sighs, feigning irritation but his voice is strained.

Tense.

You release a breath. It's now or never.

"You have my things," you try to say firmly, but it comes out in a whisper.

His face drains of color.

"Ah," he mutters softly.

It seems like he's been waiting for you to confront him about this.

"Yes, I do."

Oh God. Your stomach sinks and it takes all your strength to stay upright. You become light-headed as you try to swallow, but you can't.

"Come here, honey. Sit down," he sighs as he opens his door motioning over to a pair of chairs in the corner of his room.

You enter his room as he shuts the door.

"Elvis, I-what did you find?" your voice is panicked, but that is the last thing on your mind at the moment.

"Honey, just sit down and-" he starts but you cut him off.

"Elvis, if anyone else knows I-oh God, what's going to happen? What did you see?"

You can't catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! I'm not gonna say it again. Sit. Down."

Your eyes snap up to his at his insistence. You mutter out an 'okay' and you sit down.

"Good. Good," he sighs, his hand threading through his hair. "Now, I'm gonna need you to tell me I'm not crazy."

---

He lays it out in front of you, and you have to will yourself not to puke.

It's everything.

Your wallet, ID (with the year you were born and expiration date), even your cell phone. You are at a complete loss for words as you look up at him. His eyes connect with yours.

"Honey, I'm gonna need to to tell me I'm not crazy in about 2 seconds, because I'm this close to losin' my Goddamn mind," he breathes, fear in his voice.

"I don't know what to say."

It's a lame response, but it's the truth.

"What to say? What the hell is all this?!"

"Well...what does it look like?"

He steps back as he turns away from you, a laugh escaping him in disbelief as his hand comes to cover his mouth.

"No. That isn't possible," he mutters.

"Why do you think I freaked out when I woke up here! I didn't think it was either. I-."

You don't know what else to say. You look at Elvis and he looks unwell. He's as white as a ghost. He looks like he's going to- oh God. Running to the bathroom and grabbing his trash can as you hear him groan, sitting on one of the chairs. You get to him just in time as he hurls into the trash can, grasping onto your shoulder to keep from falling over. You have to steady yourself to keep from stumbling over.

"I was really hoping you would say it was a joke," he gasps after spitting in the trash.

You chuckle at the irony of the situation, deja vu hitting you hard as you were in this position not too long ago.

"I wish it was," you say sincerely.

He groans as you imagine his stomach turning.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I'm gonna need you to leave my room. I can't-" he starts, pausing, thinking.

"I'll talk to you later, I just can't do this right now."

Your heart sinks, although it frightened you to learn that he knew your secret, it is relieving to be able to share it with someone.

"Okay," you mutter, placing the can down in front of him.

He grabs your hand before you can get up from kneeling on the floor. A shock wave runs throughout your body as you look up at him.

"I'm really sorry honey, I just need to rest. I feel like- God I feel crazy," he apologizes, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

You bring your free hand to hold his in both of yours, massaging his knuckles in small circles.

"I know, I'm sorry too, the feeling will pass. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

You release his hand and walk to the door, opening it gently before closing it behind you. When you approach your room, you close it before going to your own chair, letting your face fall in your hands.

---

"Jer, can you pass over the salt," Elvis mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you as you look across the table at him.

It is tearing you up inside. It's been two days since you spoke to him in his room and he has been ignoring you ever since. He won't even look at you.

"Yeah, here you go, E," Jerry responds as he hands it over.

You pick at your food, you haven't had much of an appetite lately. Elvis has told everyone that he was feeling a little under the weather after you two spoke, and has barely left his room.

"Hey, (Y/N), I got you something while I was out and about yesterday, for your books," Sonny says, having learned your name when you told him and Jerry you remembered it.

You figured they couldn't do much with just a first name. Your attention is pulled away from Elvis' sullen face.

This grabs Elvis' attention too.

"Uh, it's not much but, well here ya go," he fumbles, holding out an intricate bookmark, with a beautiful swirling design of gold.

It's very nice. You take it from his hand.

"Thank you Sonny, this is very nice. I love it," you say, turning it over to see the same design on the back.

It's heavy, a metal bookmark, so it doesn't fade. You look up at him and his cheeks are rosy, a bashful grin on his face.

Oh. Oh.

"Well, I saw it and thought of ya. Thought you might like it," he muses before quickly going back to his meal.

Your cheeks flush as you tuck the bookmark under your leg. Does Sonny...like you?

You hear Elvis clear his throat and look up. Your eyes finally connect with his after two excruciating days of him acting like you don't exist. And his gaze is piercing through you. He looks pissed. He then glances over to Sonny who is smiling like he just won a million dollars. Suddenly, his chair scrapes against the floor. Everyone else turns their attention to him.

"I'm not feeling’ so well anymore. I'm goin' to my room," he mumbles, not breaking eye contact with you until he turns to trudge up the stairs.

"What crawled up his ass?," Sonny mumbles, as he looks back down to his breakfast.

You hum in acknowledgement as you wonder the same thing.

---

You sit up in bed pulling the covers over you in your room looking towards your closed door. It's about 10:30 P.M. and Elvis stayed in his room ever since breakfast. He didn't even come down for dinner. You want to knock on his door and speak with him, finally talk to him after two days of radio silence, but you feel like he wouldn't want that. You relax back into the chair as you open up Sound of Thunder again. You've read pretty far into the book and are getting into the part where the main character, Eckles, is learning the importance of the butterfly effect by his travel guide, Travis.

“All right,” Travis continued, “say we accidentally kill one mouse here. That means all the future families of this one particular mouse are destroyed, right?” “Right.” “And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot, you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!”

Travis goes onto explain that just one simple action done in the past can alter the course of the world itself. You look back to your closed door. Could Elvis knowing about you change things? From him just knowing, would the course of history be affected? Your stomach starts to churn at the possibility. You hope not. You turn back to the book as your eyes start to get heavy.

---

You can't breathe. The hands around your neck are squeezing so tight you feel all the blood rush to your face. You try to yell out but you can't. You can't move. Elvis' eyes gleam as tears stream down his face, Salty droplets falling onto your own. You grab onto his hands, trying to will him to stop.

"Why are you back?! Why did you come back!" the shaky laboured breath calls from above you, but it sounds so far away.

Lurching up in bed, you scream. And scream. You clutch the sheets to your chest as labored breaths escape your lips. You are covered in sweat. Suddenly the door surges open. The light flicks on.

"What! What's goin' on?"

You expect to see Sonny on the other end of the door, but Elvis stands there, concern written all over his face. With the speed of which he arrives, it's as if he was already awake as he stands in just his pajama pants, no shirt.

You hide your face in the sheets.

"Stay away from me!"

It's the nightmare talking, you know, but your body is riddled with fear. You shake uncontrollably as sobs escape you.

"Hey," a gentle voice calls from beside you, a hand resting on your shoulder.

You shrink at the touch.

"Don't hurt me! I'll leave I promise, I just-"

"(Y/N) calm down, you're alright. I won't hurt you, baby. I won't hurt you," He whispers.

Then, hesitantly, he breathes, "Don't leave."

In the midst of your panic, your heart flutters.

You feel his hand thread through your hair as he pulls you into his arms, rocking back and forth.

"No one's gonna hurt you, sweet heart," he repeats, his lips coming to your forehead, lingering.

You cling to him as you try to calm your breathing. You then realize what position you're in. You are in his arms. His warm body encasing you.

"I'm sorry, I had a nightmare" you croak, starting to pull away from him.

The hand stroking your hair suddenly sinks deeper until it reaches your scalp. Before you know what's happening, you feel him draw your mouth to his, your lips connecting.

You're frozen. Your mind races. You feel him start to move his mouth on yours before realizing you aren't responding to the kiss.

He pulls away.

"Was that okay?" he whispers, in the softest, tenderest voice you've ever heard.

You don't respond, your mind is so jumbled, you don't know how to respond. You want to say yes, but your mind keeps going back to the book you fell asleep reading. the butterfly effect.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, embarrassment in his voice as he moves to release you.

You grab his hand to keep him in place.

"I don't want you to leave."

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @sissylittlefeather @father-of-2cats @goldobsessionsworld @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[thatfreshi]

Hiya, I love your writing style! This is more inspo than a request -- but you know how there's posts floating around about how Astarion's disdain for heroics and good-alignment characters is really a reflection of his feelings about no one ever helping him or rescuing him? What if Tav worked that out and said, "I'm sorry I took so long" -- or something to that affect 👀👀

I imagine this takes place in act two, but before you meet Araj

tw - gore

Recommended Song: Your Power - Billie Eilish

You woke up to a startled shout in the camp, somewhere to the left of your tent. You're not necessarily a heavy or light sleeper, but this would've woken anyone up. There was a fight somewhere, and soon after you realized the shout came from Astarion. Sure he could be mouthy, but loud? It's not really his thing. You grab a knife from beside your bedroll, off to investigate the sudden kerfuffle. When you get there though, Astarion has handled the camp intruder, who is now lying dead on the ground. He doesn't notice you at first as he investigates the stranger's bags, looking to see if he had anything of importance.

"Are you alright?"

Your voice sends shivers up his spine. He's not used to kind questions, at least ones without poor intentions.

"No, I am dead and splayed all over the grass Tav. Shame you didn't help me fast enough! Guess you're not so great at playing hero all the time."

At first, you read this as his normal shitty banter, but there's a spite behind his words, bile.

"Did he-"

"Nope, didn't do anything, I am fine! You may go back to sleep now and dream of all the damsels in distress you haven't found yet."

You take a couple steps closer, worried about how closed off he's being, worried he's hiding something from you. Although, that wouldn't be rare of him.

"Oh what, you think I didn't kill him? Do you need to double check? Here's some proof."

Astarion then plunges his dagger into the chest of the dead man a couple more times, clearly tense. He doesn't unhand his blade after, and simply meets your eyes.

"I can handle a spare rogue. Now, leave me be."

Anxiety bundles in your chest.

"I... you seem unwell."

He scoffs.

"It's you that's made me so unwell, so if you want to sit there and be concerned, perhaps you should look in the mirror."

Where was this coming from? You take a couple more steps, and he turns his blade on you, standing to meet your stance.

"Lower the dagger Astarion."

"Or what? I've been through hell already, what can you do?"

"I don't want to hurt you, and quite frankly I don't know why you'd want to hurt me. I've only ever protected you, assisted you in how many fights, helped you how many times!"

"And that's precisely it. You pass along a silent helping hand, sit there and listen to my woes, pick me up off the ground when I'm wounded, and for what?"

You're taken aback. What kind of question is this? Who would ask something like that?

"Because I care!"

"No. Because you want something from me. That's how it always goes, right? I fall into some peril and a kind creature says, 'oh you poor thing, I'll keep you safe,' and then suddenly I am trapped. No, you won't fool me. Kindness is a means to an end, and I will not be that end again."

Your argument has now woken up everyone in the camp, a few souls rubbing their eyes and wondering why you're yelling this late.

"What would I want from you Astarion? We all want the same thing, the tadpoles gone, the Absolute destroyed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I don't know how you don't see that!"

"Then why sleep with me at the party?"

He has now officially aired your business out to the entire camp, but no one says anything. You think about the question, wondering what he could possibly mean.

"I... I slept with you because you offered and I thought it would be fun, and-"

"And what? Because you wanted to hold something over me?"

"No! Because I... because I think I'm falling for you."

Astarion is frozen for a moment, because you seem like you're being genuine right now.

"You know I've used those tricks on everyone in the book, right? Thousands of people have gotten the 'I love you' spiel, you're not special."

A few tears come to your eyes.

"No, it's not that. You say pretty things, sure. But there's something about you, your voice, your eyes... you're, comforting. And when you said you wanted to have sex I figured it might be my only chance to be that close with you, because you're so damn guarded. I guess I was right."

He sheathes his dagger.

"I know you're not used to people being nice, but I like being nice! Especially to you. I know you're trying to keep yourself safe, I don't blame you, but what's the point in freedom if you don't try to use it to live a little?"

Astarion meets your eyes again, tearing up a little.

"The second I drop my guard, I'll have the rug pulled out from under me, the other shoe will drop Tav. I'm not going to take the chance that you're that other shoe."

You try to close the gap between the two of you.

"But wouldn't it be so freeing to just try? You know I see it right? Those little smiles that cover your face when you think I'm not looking. Why can't we just try?"

You try to reach out for his hand, and he hesitates.

"It would be so easy for you to use me."

"I'm telling you I won't, I promise."

"Promises are often empty in my experience."

You try to catch your breath, wiping the salty streaks off your face. When you're ready to give up and tell him to forget you ever said anything, he takes your other hand in his.

"But maybe... just maybe you're right. Trying, it does sound nice to try."

You hold yourself back from squeezing his hand, not wanting to scare him off from the interaction.

"I know you think my whole do-gooder thing is a ploy, and I'm sorry that you've been lied to, but not everyone promising salvation is out to get you. At least I'm not, and I'm here now. I'm here now."

For so long, you wanted to reach out to his heart like this, feel something real with him. You go to wrap yourself around him slowly, and soon after, he reciprocates the embrace. Astarion doesn't say anything, and just sobs into your shoulder. You move your hand to his hair.

"You're free now, it's okay."

The audience hasn't seemed to leave, shocked by the rather tender moment they've witnessed from their tents. You catch a glimpse of Wyll crying a little at the scene. When Astarion removes himself from your side, he wipes at his eyes.

"So now what? Emotional vulnerability isn't really my thing you know."

You both laugh a little.

"Whatever we want I guess, whatever feels right.

"And if I... don't know what feels right?"

You smile.

"Then we'll figure that part out together."