#also the wounds are more around the eye not on it

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[pepperyduck]

pins & needles

summary: how various jjk men react to ur new/unnoticed piercings! incl. nanami, gojo, geto, choso

warnings: veryyyyyyy suggestive (esp in nanami's), (new) piercings, geto's & nanami's is a new relationship type thing. excuse any typos pls😞. 18+ mdni!

a/n: i got like 3 new piercings over the weekend, this is just self indulgent and cute methinks. also tyyy for 700 :3, i'm trying so hard to get over the writer's block. love u all!

choso + smiley piercing!

"i've never been happier to see you," choso groans as soon as he enters your dorm, kicking off his shoes at the door. though his voice is monotone, you can infer he's tired, worn out from a day's work and fighting curses.

"rough day?" you scoot over in bed to allow room for your boyfriend, smoothing out the sheets and flipping your blanket up.

"very." the singular word is the only response choso gives before beginning to strip his uniform right in front of you. as you're watching intently, choso gets almost completely naked before grabbing some clothes he'd left over; a pair of baggy pants and an "i heart my girlfriend" shirt that you gifted him, and lazily putting them on.

"i did something today, cho," you inform him, and choso’s attention immediately snaps to you, eyes showing that he was obviously wondering.

"what’d you do?"

you give him a bright smile, all the teeth in your mouth shown to him, the shiny ring glistening atop your pretty gums. choso’s brows furrow together, his pupils coming to realize there was something new in your mouth, something different about your smile.

"what’s…that?" he asks, stepping closer and closer and eventually sitting on the bed with you. you giggle at his curious looking, his eyebrows still knitted together in an inquisitive way.

"a piercing, silly," you inform him, carefully flipping up your top lip to show where the jewelry went through the frenulum of your inner lip.

"does it hurt?" choso leans in even more, straightening his eyes with the freshly pierced hole in your mouth.

"not really, just a little bit," you tell him, letting go of your lip and pressing a quick peck to choso’s lips. it catches him off-guard, choso’s face lights up red because he thought he couldn’t kiss you. smiling triumphantly, you pull away from your boyfriend.

"it—um—it looks really pretty on you." choso compliments, "can i kiss you again? please?" and he’s so sincere and sweet, always asking permission for everything. so endearing, really, even with his deep, dark voice.

needless to say, when he kisses you again, choso is making sure to flick the jewelry all around with his tongue, faintly enough to not hurt the new wound. and it becomes a habit from thereon.

gojo + bellybutton piercing!

"i missed you so much, baby."

satoru is on top of you, arms caging you in while you lay underneath him, smiling and feebly grasping the biggest part of his bicep. it had been over a month since you'd seen your husband, he'd been away on a business trip for far too long.

"did you miss me?" his words are drawn out and dramatic, like always, like he was teasing you—but he was practically always teasing you.

"yes, satoru," you blankly reply, "i missed you."

just before you can roll your eyes, gojo's kissing you, a bit enthusiastically, but you quickly melt into his touch. as annoying as he could be, you loved him, you missed him. you had longed for him the moment he left—that was a fact you couldn’t deny.

as quickly as he meets your lips, satoru leaves, disconnecting himself to trail down your torso that was draped in a way-too-expensive t-shirt of his. but the one thing that doesn't leave you is his eyes, he keeps an intense stare on your face as he moves lower and lower towards your waistline. his fingertips dance along your sides before pinching the fabric of the bottom of the shirt and slowly lifting it up.

his eyes are no longer able to stay on yours when he catches a glimpse of the sparkly blue rhinestones on each ball of the jewelry stuck through your navel. of course, you chose the shade that best matched satoru's eye color.

"no way!" satoru exclaims, beaming with a new-found excitement for the little hole in your tummy, "you actually did it?"

"yes, satoru," you repeat, threading your fingers through the white tufts of your husband's hair.

gojo's nimble fingers come to play with the jewelry—the size comparison comedic from how large his hands are. he studies the now fully healed wound, moving the jewelry all around and practically forgetting the previous heated mood.

"do you like it?" you somewhat nervously ask, intimidated by the tedious investigation of your bellybutton.

"yes, duh," satoru dramatically quips, "you think i should get one next?"

nanami + nipple piercing!

kento had tried so hard to ignore it.

you didn't mean to distract him, really. it was a simple mishap at first, not wearing a bra when kento came over. but after the first time, he didn't seem to mind, he was gentlemanly enough. his eyes stayed averted—when you were looking at him, at least—so you took it as a green flag to remain braless when he was at your house without worry.

but nanami's only a man.

so here you are, after work, after your boyfriend had come over, ranting to him in your kitchen about your boss and whatever bullshit you had to put up with that day. but your words land upon deaf ears, noise drowned out by the sight of the little hearts poking out from the shirt you're wearing. he's sat at your dining table, legs lazily spread as he half-listens to you.

"—like, what?! what else am i supposed to do in that situation?"

for the first time in your venting session, you lock eyes with kento, noticing how they flash up quickly from...your chest.

"ken?"

"um—yes?" he chokes, a little too obviously for him to not be embarrassed over.

a smug smile rests over your face, nanami was caught red handed, ogling at your boobs and the cute heart-shaped jewelry that adorned them.

"what'cha staring at?" trailing closer to him with a teasing tone in your voice, you're killing him, embarrassing the poor man as the seconds roll on. kento doesn't reply either, only a raspy breath leaving his lungs as his response. his face heats up and his expression drops, shamelessly glancing down at your chest once more—one, two—counting the peaks of your nipples through the shirt.

"i'm sorry," he finally chokes out, unable to keep his eyes from flashing up and down, to your eyes then to your chest, again and again.

without any words, you slot yourself between nanami's legs, inching your chest closer to his face. it was so funny how easily his stoic persona disintegrated under your presence. he'd never been this close to your chest—to you. and it's intoxicating to him, he's ashamed how he loses himself by simply being eye level with your boobs.

but that guilt quickly washes away when you take his hand and place it perfectly to cup your tit—index finger and thumb resting right around the pretty jewelry under your shirt.

tdlr; that's the first night your boyfriend stays over at your place.

geto + clavicle piercing!

"you look lovely tonight."

smooth as ever, geto compliments you, his voice dripping with a sweet nectar. your insides warm up despite the harsh cold outside, the thick coat draped over your frame doing little to combat the weather.

"thank you," you whisper and smile at him, stepping into the door of the fancy restaurant suguru had chosen for your date. third date, to be exact.

once you're at your table, suguru helps you shimmy the bulky jacket off your shoulders, revealing the tasteful, deep-cut top you had chosen for your date—along with the two studs on each side of your collarbone that your clothing showed off rather perfectly.

it takes suguru a few moments to notice once he sits down. he tries to strike up conversation, relying on the simple questions and responses he can utter without getting too distracted. however, within a few minutes, geto is cracking, eyes every so often flickering down to the gems that aligned your clavicle so prettily. he can't help it, because with every slight movement you make, the jewelry sparkles in the dim light of the restaurant—it's hard to ignore.

"are you okay?" you interrupt your previous dialogue when you take note of geto's increasingly hazy replies, and how he seems a bit spaced out.

"yeah," suguru swallows deeply, "i really like your—um," his pointer finger vaguely motions to his own collarbone, and you have to look down at your chest before you realize what he’s talking about.

his mouth is dry. he’d already thought you were, like, the sexiest woman on earth, but this, oh this, was just too much. geto was unsure as to why he found the piercings so distracting, so hot, but nonetheless enjoyed the view he had.

"oh, thank you!" you giggle, smiling brightly and ghosting your fingers over the piercings—you’d honestly forgotten that this would be the first time he’s seen this much of your body, and the piercings ended up being the perfect touch to make suguru lose his mind.

and he can't wait until he's able to feel on 'em, too.

[florencebirdsong]

Trick or Treat

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: with Agatha away planning a trick, Rio decides to have a little treat

tags: mentions of slapping, marking, biting, possible dub-con at the start regarding Rio as she uses magic, fingering (r & Rio receiving), praise kink, cunnilingus (Agatha receiving), bondage, bunny pet name 

authors note: when you’re only intending to write a quick one shot but the lesbians won’t stop playing tug-a-war 

masterlist | ao3

You hum quietly along to the old radio as you continue stitching. Agatha has yet to explain her need for a blanket covered in such a wide variety of runes but as her familiar you are happy to help anyway. 

You’re currently in a slump hobbies-wise and needed something to distract you while your mistress is away.

It’s Halloween Eve, which means she’s currently tormenting her victims into a corner so she can begin her real trick at the witching hour.

A fond smile graces your lips as you move onto the next rune. Agatha may complain about what the modern world has done to Samhain but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself immensely. You can already feel her anticipation through the bond and can’t wait to bask in her wicked glee when she watches her prey realise the trap they’ve fallen for.

Being able to fully bathe in the feeling is one of the reasons you don’t join her. The other is how long she likes to celebrate her victory when she comes home to a ready and wet pet.

The back door slams shut and you jump, needle piercing your finger. Blood oozes from the wound and you frown as the rune it’s resting against greedily drinks it up.

You pull your finger away with a quiet tut and poke the unrepentant rune with the sharp point of your needle. Instead of releasing the blood, it sucks up the drop still clinging to the metal. 

You sigh. That’s going to make the empowering stage much more annoying. Balancing is already hard enough when every rune starts at the same level. 

Another door slams, this one closer, and you frown. The back door could have just been the wind but you can’t even tell which door that last one was. The cabin isn’t exactly big. 

You pierce the current rune you’re working on so it doesn’t get any ideas and slowly lower the blanket. You can still clearly feel Agatha through the bond. She isn’t hiding from you and is still a fair distance away which means this isn’t her playing a game.

Rapid footsteps have you shooting to your feet with your hands raised. You may not have the powers of a full-fledged witch but you are the familiar of the most powerful witch alive and this is your home.

The footsteps stop at the door to the living room and then start to go around. Through the wall. They continue to circle the room as you try to think. Some sort of ghost, probably, but you can’t feel anything. Your mistress is a spirit witch, you have more of an affinity with it than most. You cast your magic and when that doesn’t show anything you begin muttering spells under your breath. Also nothing. Does that mean it isn’t a spirit? The footsteps reach the front porch and you decide it doesn’t matter. You bolt for the back door, where the sounds had originally started. You make it through one room before she appears in front of you. Dark hair, purple eyes, green jacket.

You freeze. Your Mistress’ magic sings at the sight of her but the animal part of your brain screams run. You don’t get the chance to take a single step. She has you trapped between her a second after you see her.

You’ve been Agatha’s familiar for long enough to know Lady Death. But only ever in spirit. A vague awareness that she’s there. Agatha is the one she talks to. For her to not only show herself but be in her physical form? For her to touch you? Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

“Bunny, it’s so good to see you again!” she says with a big smile. “Is your mistress not home?”

You rapidly shake your head. Your panicked breaths reinforcing how tightly she’s pressed against you.

“Aw, what a shame,” she says, looking delighted. “I really was hoping to see her.” 

Her hands climbs up your sides and you desperately try to wriggle free. You can barely move at all. 

“Feeling shy?” she asks innocently. 

You’re too panicked to respond. You can feel Agatha worriedly looking down the bond but you don’t know how to respond. The clear intention behind Rio’s touch is breaking some very big rules, but that’s what a large part of her and Agatha’s relationship seems to be about. You manage to send a jumbled weird-fine-what do? down the bond which doesn’t do anything to ease Agatha.

“No need to call her,” she says and nudges your chin up. “I can take care of you.”

Her nose runs down your neck. You tense as you feel her get close to the familiar mark. Agatha’s mark. Anyone other than her touching or interfering with it results in quite a lot of pain for both parties. She pauses just above it and her hot breath has you squirming again. Something warm and wet touches just below it and you freeze.

Rio’s gives your familiar mark a long, slow lick. What should burn sends waves of pleasure through you instead. Your eyes roll back as you moan and buck into her.

Only Agatha should be able to get such a response from your mark. The fact that Rio can means-means something that’s too hard to work out with her sharp teeth scraping over it.

You whimper and instinctively bare your neck further. Her laugh is low and her breath hot against your skin.

The bond flares as Agatha’s presence fills your mind. No doubt looking through your eyes for who dared touch her pet. You force them open and on to Rio, who is still sporting the same grin. The teasing look in her eyes isn’t for you. They never leave yours as she gently brushes her lips against yours. Agatha, consciously or not, urges you forward and you lean into it willingly.

Rio pulls back with a victorious smile. You have to shut your eyes. Agatha isn’t pleased at being so easily played and between that, her own lust and yours it’s too much. 

Agatha breaks the connection to your sight with a snap. She’s still close but her emotions aren’t being directly shoved on top of your own anymore.

Rio nudges your head back up to bare your neck. You can feel her anticipation rolling off of her in waves. She practically vibrates with it. You whimper when you realise she’s going right back to your mark. She teases around it, working you up until she finally laves that last bit of attention on it and you’re limp and pliant in her arms. She eagerly begins sinking her teeth into the skin around Agatha’s mark. You don’t know enough about Rio and Agatha’s relationship to know which end it will send Agatha over, pure possessive rage or insatiable lust, but you can already feel the explosion growing with every step closer she gets.

Rio’s nails trail up the delicate skin of your inner thigh and you try to close your legs with a whine. You can’t with her pressed against you. 

One more swipe over your familiar mark has your legs opening for her. All thought of resistance gone as the ancient magic lulls you into an obedient, pleasure-filled haze. Rio slips her hand under the waistband of your pants.

“I can see why Agatha likes this so much,” Rio murmurs as her fingers delicately circle over the wet spot forming on your panties. 

You can feel Agatha getting closer and closer. Her emotions invade the bond more and more. Indignation, anticipation, pure lust. It has your hips rolling against the light pressure Rio is giving you.

Rio’s fingers move to your clit and she has you mewling for her by the time Agatha slams open the door. You can feel the way her magic pulses, inside you and against your skin, and it has you moaning.

Agatha tears Rio away from you. You whine at the loss, something that would have earned you a slap if Agatha’s hands weren’t full.

Agatha slams Rio against the apposing wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growls. Her emotions are still wild and the fight between possessiveness and hunger has your knees weak.

“Enjoying Halloween,” Rio says innocently. “I thought I deserved a little treat and that you,” she leans her face closer to Agatha’s, “Would enjoy a little trick.”

“She’s mine. Find your treat somewhere else.”

“Like under your skirt?” Rio smirks. You can feel the anger and desire grow within Agatha. “She responded so well to me, didn’t you bunny?” 

She peeks over Agatha’s shoulder and you nod without thinking. It’s not entirely your fault. Touching the familiar mark in such a way is designed to flood you with the desire to please.

Agatha reaches through the bond and tugs you to your knees.

“Behave,” she snaps. The new position means you can squeeze your thighs together without falling. The tiny bit of pressure squeezing your sensitive clit has you grinding. “That is not behaving.”

You can’t stop yourself. Agatha enters your mind to find the source of your disobedience. All she finds is a lust-filled haze.

“Aw, did Rio touch my mark? Is that what turned you into such a mindless bunny?“ she says with mock sympathy as she advances on you.

You whimper up at her with pleading eyes. It’s a mistake. Moving your head clearly shows your mark, and the way it’s covered in Rio’s own.

Anger flashing down the bond has you barring your neck to her and the dark desire that hides beneath it makes your mouth water.

“That’s quite a sight, pet,” she says with a smile that stretches too wide. “It’s a miracle you aren’t dead on the ground.”

Unable to think enough to respond you continue to stare up while panting. Not wanting a dumb doll just yet, Agatha eases some of the fog from your mind.

Thoughts are still form slow and it takes you a few moments to realise she wants a response.

“It felt good,” you whimper like she doesn’t already know. 

“Oh?” she reaches down and grips your chin. “Are your loyalties so easily swayed?”

Anger claws at you. Your devotion to Agatha is complete. The familiar bond only cemented it.

“You know that’s not how it works,” you snap. Agatha looks at you with mock shock at your outburst.

“Then how does another bring you such pleasure, bunny?” she asks. You swallow. Such a dangerous question when it comes in regard to Rio. But not answering will be much worse than telling the truth.

“My feelings mirror my mistresses’ own,” you force out quietly. There’s more nuance than that to the bond, you don’t become a copy of her, but it’s true enough for what happened.

Her eyes flash just like you knew they would.

“I think that’s enough talking,” she moves her hand from your chin to your mark and presses down. Bliss bursts from the contact. It travels to your brain and down to your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll back. Your hips continuously move as you seek just a hint of pressure. Agatha kicks your thighs further apart to prevent you from getting any. “Naughty pet, telling secrets. Your mistress will have to teach you a lesson, won’t she?”

You whine, wanting to beg for mercy, but there’s barely her name in your head let alone a full thought. Before Agatha can continue, Rio breaks free from Agatha’s hold. She swings Agatha against the opposite wall with her magic. Agatha collides with a dull thud that has you trying to get up automatically. Your limbs are still weak and your brain fuzzy. It’s easy for Rio to push you back down.

“I sought out your pet for a bit of fun, Agatha. Not to be put in a corner,” she kneels in front of you and gently cups your face. Her thumbs smooth gentle circles over your cheek. You melt into it. “Your mistress is so mean, you poor thing. Trying to punish you for something that’s her fault.” One hand slides to the back of your neck and into your hair, gently scratching. You make an agreeing noise to get her to continue. 

Agatha’s indignation is clear through the bond but it feels so far away. So much attention on your mark has you floating and Rio’s soft touch isn’t bringing you down.

“Why don’t you let me help, bunny?” she says as she gently guides you to lay down. 

You make a noise of confusion. This feels like your mistress but not, and only your mistress can have you in such a way. You try and move her hands away but she shushes you. You try to close your legs but teasing fingers running up your inner thighs has them opening again. 

It shouldn’t feel so nice when your mistress’s presence is further away. You follow the bond and turn your head. Agatha’s pupils are blown and her breaths heavy. Her magic makes no appearance and she isn’t using the bond to force some clarity into your mind to stop Rio. 

“I promise to be nice,” Rio whispers as she slowly raises your shirt. Her cool touch feels so good on your overheated skin that you can’t stop her. “Let’s continue where we left off.”

Her hand slips back into your pants to your wet panties and she begins circling your clit again. You mewl quietly, eyes finding your mistress again. She’s leaning forward in her restrains and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

You whine when Rio’s fingers disappear. Your panties disappear along with them and the chill air makes you shiver. Her fingers find your clit again and your legs spread wider.

“There’s a good bunny,” Rio says and the praise has you arching. “Such a good familiar.” Your body shudders. The bond has only increased your reaction to praise, especially when related to your behaviour as a familiar. “I wonder,” Rio says curiously. Her spare hand finds your mark and she presses down hard enough to have you going limp. Her other hand doesn’t stop. “You’re such a good girl,” she says. The heat curling around your core immediately snaps and you cry out as it flashes through you. You twitch and press into her hands. Rio laughs. “It really does make you so sensitive, huh Bunny?” her fingers circle your mark and you whimper pathetically.

“That’s enough,” Agatha says, finally using her magic to break Rio’s own.

“Is it? I haven’t finished enjoying my treat yet.”

“You know better than to break my things.”

“I guess I’ll have to do my trick then,” Rio disappears but you can feel her as clearly as you do Agatha. It’s strange to be connected to another in a way. You aren’t sure how much you like it. She isn’t your mistress. Still, a tug from Rio has you trying to stumble to your feet and a tingling sensation has her distinctiveness fading. 

“What are you doing?” Agatha asks as she steadies you. She’s right next to you. You frown and look towards the other presence. Why was she calling you from over there? You can’t make your lips work. Agatha uses the bond to brush against your mind. “Interesting trick, dear. But it won’t change who she belongs to.”

Oh, Rio was the other presence? But it doesn’t feel like Rio. It feels like your mistress. If it was her, wouldn’t Agatha be more angry? It doesn’t make sense. You just want her fingers inside of you.

Rio cackles and you’re pulled out of Agatha’s arms. The walls pass in a blur but you’re caught in a warm embrace before you begin to panic. Arms wrap around your waist and her chin rests on your shoulder. You eagerly lean back into the feeling of your mistress. She’s cooler than she usually is but you don’t mind with her skin against yours.

Frustration and delight flow through the bond and you nuzzle her neck to try and help soothe her. Since her head is on your shoulder you end up nuzzling her cheek instead. She purrs. It relaxes you further. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Rio,” mistress says warningly from far away.

“It looks like she wants to come with me, isn’t that right bunny?” she asks from right next to you.

Yes, you send clearly through the bond. Of course you want to go your mistress. Fingers find your chin and nod for you anyway.

Agatha growls and you feel magic wrapping around you again. It only pulls you for a second before it stops, her arms tightening around you. You don’t know why she’d send you away but you don’t question it with her so close. 

She summons you through the bond and you try to press even more tightly against her. A frustrated growl. Hands creep under your shirt again and you shiver. Nails lightly scraping along your ribs before fingers find your nipples. They squeeze and pinch and pull. A hot mouth finds your neck and begins sucking, thankfully giving your oversensitive familiar mark a break. You moan and arch into the touch, desire licking through the bond.

Fingers slip into your soaked core and you desperately grab her wrist. Just for something to hold on to. You’re too fuzzy to do much more than take it. 

You end up on your toes, back arched and mouth open with needy gasps. The building pleasure is much calmer with no touch to your mark. Mistress’ fingers pump into you lazily, her fingers curling as you get closer to the edge. 

“Be a good bunny,” she murmurs against your skin. “Come for your mistress.”

The warmth crests and pleasure runs through you. Desperate, needy sounds escape you as you grip her wrist tightly and grind down. Mistress doesn’t seem to mind, her other hand still groping your breast. 

You slump against her. She gently pulls out and holds her hand up, slowly opening her fingers so your cum stretches between them. You turn to try and hide your face in her neck.

“So messy,” she says. Her desire burns bright in your mind.

“You’ve had your treat, Rio,” your mistress says with a gravely voice. “And now you’ve played your trick. Time to give her back.”

“Why don’t you come and take her?”

The disorientating feeling of teleporting envelops you. Arms wrap back around your waist to steady you. 

You’re in the kitchen, facing the door. Which mistress slams through. Your bond bends and the presence of your second mistress disappears. You turn your head to find Rio. Mistress summons you and you try to squirm out of Rio’s hold. It’s as successful as the last time. Arms that were safe turn cage. You push at them but they don’t budge. 

Rio teleports you again and you stop pushing her arms to cling to them. The door handle turns and Rio does it again. She lets go this time and you wobble for a moment before falling forward. Your bed is there to catch you. The comforter is soft against your hot skin and the mattress cradles your sore muscles. You feel your mistress appear in the room but neither of them reach for you so you don’t bother to turn.

A body slams into wood and Rio moans loudly. Agatha is growling too lowly for you to understand but Rio’s teasing response ends in a gasp. You want to see but your body is so heavy, the haze making you sink down now that everything has stopped.

Wet sounds fill the room and Rio’s moans indicate that your mistress has won. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to see what Agatha dominating looks like from the outside. Pushing yourself up onto shaky arms you manage to turn over. You can only see part of Agatha’s face and the movement of her hand but Rio is in full view. There’s still a teasing smile on her face but it’s slowly morphing into one of pleasure.

Rio’s mouth falls open as Agatha does something with her fingers and her smug look disappears as her eyes drop to Agatha’s mouth. The want in them has heat licking through your pussy again. One leg moves to wind around Agatha’s waist and her hands grips her shoulders. Agatha says something you can’t make out and Rio’s head falls back against the wall. Two thrusts later and she’s moaning, holding tight to Agatha as she comes. You watch in awe as Death unravels at the hand of your mistress. 

Death is still panting when Agatha pulls out, her eyes hooded.

Agatha raises her soaked fingers to Rio’s mouth. You’re surprised at how willingly she takes them. Rio’s dark gaze never leaves your mistress’ and you watch in fascination as her throat moves. Rio sucks as Agatha pulls her fingers out and you swallow at the noise. 

“No kiss?” Rio asks as she licks her lips.

“After stealing my familiar? No.”

“Pretty please?” Rio gives an exaggerated pout and bats her eyes.

“You’ll have to make it up to me first,” Agatha winds her hand in Rio’s hair and slowly pushes her to the floor. Rio never breaks her gaze as she gets on her knees.

She reaches up and undoes the button on Agatha’s pants before slowly pulling down the zipper. Mistress’ face is indifferent but you can feel her need flickering down the bond. It grows with every inch of skin Rio reveals.

Rio slowly pulls Agatha’s pants down before kissing Agatha over her panties.

“Teasing isn’t going to get you what you want,” Agatha warns. Rio gives a long, slow lick over the panties in response but doesn’t push it any further. She magics Agatha bare and immediately dives in.

Agatha moans and holds a hand out against the wall to steady herself. Rio isn’t easing into it. You can feel the corresponding waves of pleasure from every lick, swipe and press of her tongue. She sucks and Agatha’s other hand shoots out, head bowed. A finger teases her entrance but a flash of purple has Rio’s hands back in her lap. She huffs but doesn’t attempt again, moving to hold onto Agatha’s thighs instead. When Agatha said Rio has to earn it she meant it and you watch as Rio does. Her head constantly bobbing, lips making messy sucking sounds, the feeling of her running over Mistress again and again.

You want to touch but don’t dare risk Agatha’s ire with Rio turning onto you.

You can feel her orgasm building through the bond although she doesn’t allow it to show. Rio still hasn’t looked away from her face. 

Rio scrapes her teeth against Agatha’s clit and the feeling of Agatha’s orgasm floods you. Agatha grinds down on Rio’s face as she prolongs her high. You watch as Rio digs her fingers into Agatha’s thighs and give as good as she gets.

Agatha slows to stop as her high ebbs and jealousy runs through you as you watch Rio lap up the mess dripping down your mistress’ thighs. You haven’t gotten to taste either of them.

Agatha leans heavily against the wall as her legs continue to shake, she doesn’t take her eyes off Rio. A deep satisfaction fills her.  

Rio rockets to her feet, head popping up between Agatha’s arms and kisses her. Instead of gripping Rio’s hair like you expect Agatha cups her face and melts into her. It works to Rio’s advantage. 

She uses Agatha’s moment of weakness to force her to the floor. You watch with wide eyes as she climbs on top of her and pins her down. You push yourself up onto your arms so you can see them. You’ve been on top of Agatha before but never like this. Not with the control Rio has. 

Rio makes Agatha kiss her. Her hand moves to Agatha’s neck and squeezes. The way your mistress gasps has you squeezing your thighs together. 

Your desire is too loud and your mistress notices you. Her magic fills your mind. You beg to keep watching but her magic flows through the bond, encouraging you towards sleep. You try not to pout at not getting to see Agatha in your usual role but your eyes slip shut anyway. Pretending to sleep won’t work with you so connected and her magic coaxes you that last little bit towards unconsciousness. You slip into it just as Agatha breathes her first moan

[mywhisperingwords]

these three little words | fred g. weasley

summary: four times fred told you he loved you and one time he truly meant it word count: 3.6k masterlist

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Fred put a hand on his heart while saying, “You wound me greatly.”

Rolling your eyes, you kept walking, leaving him behind, “And yet you are still alive and well just to annoy me.”

Behind you, you could hear him snickering to himself before he caught up with you.

“Just you, my darling,” he told you, putting his arm around your shoulder, “besides, all I said was that your sudden interest in Potions was quite suspicious. For some unknown reason I doubt that you do it for George and me.”

He put his mouth close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek and the sudden closeness made it hard for you to comprehend the next words he whispered, “One might wonder if some specific professor has anything to do with that.”

It took you a moment, but you finally realized what he meant.

“Are you seriously accusing me of fancying Snape? Snape of all people? Sickening,” you shouted as you pushed him away from you with a revolted expression. “That thought alone makes me want to throw up in your face.”

“Now, now, don’t be so vulgar. Snape is awkwardly handsome, quite old and wise. Maybe he could teach you some things,” he started winking suggestively at you before breaking in a laughing fit.

All you could was stare at him, horrified by the idea alone.

This whole conversation only sparked because you mentioned your study’s that were related to potion making. Which you only took up, to help out with new creations in relation to Fred, and George, of course.

Maybe he wasn’t that far off with the whole fancying idea, he just confused the person you fancied.

“Do you hear that?” he asked abruptly, a serious look on his face, that made your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way.

“What?” you asked, still annoyed but also a bit nervous. You weren’t that far away from the forbidden forest and you never knew what kind of creatures were luring in the shadows.

“I thought I heard,” he paused for a moment, suspension rising, “wedding bells.”

“Merlin, you’re a git,” you moaned.

You swiftly turned away from him and crossed your arms, more annoyed with him and his stupid jokes. Quickly you started walking, trying to get away from him.

Maybe it was your attitude or maybe he just realized that you were done with his jokes at the moment but he immediately went after you.

When he caught up with, he again put his arm on your shoulder, before saying, “Aw, come on. You know I was just joking.”

Ignoring him, you kept on walking in the direction of the castle. You weren’t bothered by his jokes, not really. It’s Fred you’re talking about here, he does not mean any harm — at least not to you.

You were also not upset by his little scare, or maybe a little bit. To be honest, you were not quite sure why you were so agitated currently.

Maybe it was the fact that you spent your free time studying, just for him, and George of course. But mostly for Fred. And all he could do is make a mockery out of it just so he doesn’t have to deal with real feelings.

Because you knew, that he was overwhelmed when you told him your studies were a way of helping him and George with their products. Fred wasn’t someone who asked for help, he’d rather deal with his problems on his own. But he also knew that accepting offered help wasn’t a weakness, especially when it came from you.

You recognized it in the way he got quiet for a moment, avoiding looking at you, his cheeks turning a shade of pink, before starting to joke around.

It was a typical Fred reaction.

“Don’t be like that, darling. I love you, don’t ignore me,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your head.

Sometimes you wondered if he knew, when he said things like that but you were aware of the fact that he only saw you as a friend—he had made that clear numerous times.

“I’ll stop ignoring you if you stop joking about me and Snape,” you told him.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Deal.” Grinning at you, he linked his arm with yours, continuing the way up the hill towards the castle.

After a beat of silence, he interrupted it by saying, “But be honest with me, you fancy him at least a tiny bit, right?”

This time, when you pushed him away, you couldn’t help yourself and let out a laugh at his stupid joke.

&

Nights like these were your favorite.

Sitting in Gryffindor common room that was buzzing with conversation, around the fireplace with the people who felt like home to you, and Fred, who was so much more.

All the jokes, the laughter and the love that was shared between you made it sometimes difficult to deem this your life—it felt too good to be true.

Angelina was just retelling the story of how her newest fling asked her out, right after he won his quidditch game. The whole school witnessed that slightly awkward scene, but Angelina was head over heels about this public display of affection.

You could see that George was not so fond of these news, he was averting his gaze and seemed to obviously be more than annoyed at Angelina’s pawning about this handsome Hufflepuff boy.

If only George would tell her how he felt, but who were you to judge, considering you could not even tell your best friend about your feelings.

George’s behavior seemed to be obvious to anyone but Angelina, but Lee was the one to finally put George out of his misery and interrupt her speech, “I can’t even fathom what rid that guy to do all that in public.”

Angelina rolled her eyes, while everyone else laughed. “Maybe the fact that he knows what a woman wants?” she said, raising her eyebrow at you, clearly looking for support on this matter.

But you were the wrong one to address, because you couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying than somebody confessing their love for you in front of everyone.

“I understand that you like that kind of thing, but me personally, I think I would die of embarrassment. I don’t want my love to be so out in the open, at the end of the day it’s only between me and that person,” you told her, giving her an apologetic smile.

While trying to convey your thoughts on that matter, you couldn’t help yourself but let your mind wander to the person you always thought about these days it felt like.

Fred was sitting right next to you, but he was not his usual loud and joking self. There was something weighing on his mind and you wished you could just crawl inside it to find out what was wrong.

But you could not, so all you could do was lean to his side and quietly ask him, “Are you alright?”

Your words seemed to have pulled him out of his thoughts, because his eyes locked on yours, he was quiet for a moment, taking his time to think about his answer. He seemed to find it in your face, because he slowly began to grin before jumping out of his seat, interrupting George who was just talking enthusiastically.

Even with everyone’s eyes on him, he seemed to have only eyes for you.

“Oh, dearest lady of mine heart!” he exclaimed, striding toward you with a grand sweep of his arm. The room fell silent, a few chuckles escaping from his friends as he carried on with exaggerated passion.

He took your hand, eyes glinting with mischief as he dropped to one knee. “Thou art as radiant as the morning sun that doth chase away the drear of night,” he intoned, voice dramatic and thick with feigned longing. “Might I but win a single glance of thy affection, my soul would soar higher than the castle towers!”

You bit back a grin, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone laughed, watching Fred carry on his theatrical performance.

He leaned in, lowering his voice just a touch. “Ah, fair lady, dost thou know what torment ‘tis to sit beside thee, with no claim upon thy heart?” His tone softened, eyes suddenly more serious than playful. “For, alas, thou hast bewitched me in ways I can scarce confess.”

Someone whistled, and George called out, “Go on, Freddie! Pour your heart out!”

With a smirk, Fred straightened and gave a bow. “Then, my fair one, grant me but a single smile, and I shall know all is well with my heart—for it beats for thee alone.”

&

You were staring holes into the ceiling, wide awake.

That wasn’t a rarity these days.

The impending war was hanging over your head, the uncertainty these days was keeping you up most nights nowadays. Never knowing if the next day would arrive with word of the beginning of the end.

You were staying at the Burrow, a house that has always felt like a safe place, a second home, to you. Lately it didn’t feel as secure as it used to, only the people occupying the space giving it the feeling of a home.

People were scared and though you tried not to show it, you were too.

Sleep was not going to come, you were sure of that. It has come worse and worse in the last few weeks.

That was the reason for why you would spend most nights in at the porch, looking out at the trees until the sun would rise and the rest of the house would wake up.

Some nights Fred would catch you up, not being able to rest himself, so he’d keep you company for a while, until sooner or later falling asleep on the floor next to you.

He would sometimes try to lighten the mood, trying to get you to laugh. Trying to put a smile on your lips, to make these times feel less daunting. And other times he would just sit in silence next to you, watching the sunrise. That’s when you would know that even Fred himself was struggling with being hopeful.

But you would never talk about it, because that would mean that this was real. The possibility of death and loss might not just be that — a possibility.

This night was different than the others and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why that was.

Maybe the reason was, that Fred was already out of bed. Normally you would be the first to come downstairs and he would soon after follow. Sometimes you would swear that he would just listen for your footsteps down the hallway, before he would emerge from his room.

This time when you walked down the stairs, you saw that the side door was slightly open.

When you walked by the kitchen window, you could see Fred sitting outside, staring at the night sky.

He did not acknowledge your presence when you took a seat next to him. All he did was continue to stare at the stars that shone so brightly, even in times like these, looking deep in thought.

After a few minutes of silence, his quiet question was a startling reminder that this fight was taking a constant toll on everyone, even the ones filled with happiness.

“Don’t you wish that it would all just end?”

You did not expect a question like this from him, the one person in this world that always had a hopeless optimism, no matter how bad things looked, he was the one that always said that things can only get better, even with a dagger in his heart.

There was no answer, that you could give him. At least not one, that he did not already know himself.

After a long moment of silence, where you admired the clear night-sky, you told him in a soft voice, “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Yes, yes they are,” he agreed, but when you looked over at him, his gaze wasn’t directed towards the sky, no, it was directed at you.

All you could do was stare back at him, and listen to the beating of your heart. You swore, if you stopped breathing, you could also pick up the beat of his.

“I love you,” he whispered and the beating of your heart stopped, for only a second, “You’re my best friend.”

How strange it was to feel anything at all.

&

You were bleeding.

A few moments before, you got hit, you think, you couldn’t remember when it happened exactly.

All you could do was to keep going, ignoring the humming pain at your side. The adrenaline pumping in your veins was keeping you from thinking clearly, acknowledging the deep wound.

The one and only thing that was on your mind, was Fred.

Ever since you heard his name leaving someone’s lips, mentioning that he was hurt, severely, all you could do was look for him in every face that laid on the ground. So many bodies, so many souls that have left before their time.

You felt guilty, that every time you did not see his face on any of the bodies, you felt a sense of relief.

With every turn you took, people were trying desperately to make it out alive. It was a miracle that you were even still alive at this point, with the way you were running past Death Eaters without a care in the world.

It was in the Great Hall where you finally found him, sitting on one of the gurneys.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, engulfing him in your arms, needing to make sure that he was real and not just a figment of your imagination. There was too much demise for you not to consider that you yourself have already passed.

But when Fred put his arms around you and pulled you against his body you knew that this was real, because it hurt like hell. He was pressing against the wound on your side and you were hurting him too, you must be, given the state he was in. But not any of this mattered when you felt so secure in his arms.

“What were you thinking?” you muttered in his neck, not wanting to let go of him, “You could be dead.”

Fred’s ghost of a laugh brushed the skin of your cheek, leaving a haunted touch. His response to your worries was unconcerned, “I’m not.”

His carelessness made you push him from you, turning your head to the side, so he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the tears welling in your eyes when you whispered, “But you could’ve been.”

The realization hit you at once. There was a sudden urge to just scream your soul out, as you acknowledged that there was a possibility that you could not be sitting here with Fred.

But you did not lash out, no, you broke down. The adrenaline rush and the fear of losing Fred was leaving your body at once and you began crying, not being able to hold them in any longer.

There were so many emotions you were feeling in this moment, guilt for not staying with Fred, anger at anyone who harmed him, and panic for everything you have endured to still be alive.

Fred reached out his hand, taking ahold of yours, muttering sweet nothings to you, “I’m okay, hey, I’m okay.” But you wouldn’t hear it, even if his words rang true. The idea of finding a lifeless Fred in the Great Hall was still to raw. All he could do to comfort you, was to hold you, and he did as he continued to whisper, “I’m right here, alive and breathing.”

You heard his words but you did not recognize them, too caught up with sorting through the mess of your mind. But his next words finally got through to you, because he confessed with a low voice and a soft smile, “I love you too much to just leave you like that.”

Only a few moments later, he noticed the blood on your shirt, a fearful expression on his face as he saw your exhausted eyes, yelling out, “I need a healer. Now!”

&

Something shifted between the two of you after the war, you could feel it in the air, almost being able to touch it with your bare hands.

It was in the way he looked at you, like you would vanish the moment he looked away, and the way he touched you, the way he refused to let go of you, like he feared that you might fade away from his life.

As if he wasn’t the one that could’ve almost slipped away from you.

Maybe it was a reassurance to him, to feel that he was still here, alive and breathing.

To you it was torture. Never before has he been so close to you, yet so far. It was cruel, if you were being honest.

You had taken on the responsibility of helping out with the shop, with Fred healing and George being overwhelmed with the workload, it only made sense.

That was at least what you told yourself. The whole truth was, that you too were scared that if you only for a second turned around that he would be gone. That it had all only been a dream, and Fred had not survived the war but had succumbed to his injuries.

But he had.

It was a day like the one before, you sat next to Fred in the office after the shop had closed, looking over some of the paperwork.

You worked in silence next to one another, but all you fixate on was the way his thigh was plastered on your thigh, the way his arm was pressing right into your arm. It was hard to tell where you began and he ended, everything was blended together and you loathed it.

You hated it, because it was everything you ever wanted, but it looked wrong, misshapen.

“When I was talking to George earlier, he asked if you were staying over again, I told him that you were,” he mumbled, not looking up from his work.

That had been another thing that had been creeping into your new everyday without you noticing it at first. You spend most of your time at their flat, only going to yours to get the mail and water your plants, that were slowly rotting away with the amount of times you were actually around to take care of them.

Like so many other things, it had been unspoken. An unspoken agreement between you, that was just there.

Just like it had been unspoken that you would no longer spend the night on the living room sofa and instead on Fred’s bed, when he saw the uncomfortable sleep you would have on that sofa. Which was not completely true, because it wasn’t the sofa keeping you awake, it was the nightmares.

It was a day like this, long ago, when instead of letting you go left to the living room, he gently took your hand and lead you into his room. Neither of you said a word, when you got ready for bed. You just laid down together, taking comfort in one another, while holding onto each other.

You did not talk about, how you slept better together, or how the nightmares were fewer now. That was just another thing that sneaked its way into your everyday routine.

So when you walked up the stairs into his flat, that felt more like home to you than your own home, you did not say anything, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you two stood in his tiny bathroom and undressed for bed, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you crawled into his bed, onto your side, because it was just the way things were now.

But when he put his arms around you, and whispered those three words into your ear, like it was just a part of your new normal, you could not keep quiet any longer.

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that. Not if you don’t mean it,” you whimpered into the darkness of the night.

He tightened his grip on you, whispering “But I do mean it.”

You were shaking, and with a raw throat you told him the truth, “Not in the way I want you to.”

“In what way do you want me to mean it?” he asked, voice soft.

“In every way.”

He put his lips on your neck, “I do, in every way.”

For the first time in, what felt like years, you finally let go. You let go of all that pain you endured over the years, all of the confusion and agonizing fear you felt. Sobbing into the arms of the man that you have loved, long before you even knew what love truly meant.

And all he did, was hold you together, so you could fall apart, continuing to whisper these words in your ear.

[fairy-spring]

I’ve read over this essay several times over the past few weeks. It wasn’t because of a profound realization or anything, but more because with each successive read I was squinting my eyes harder and harder as I sat there thinking, “None of these words are in the bible.” I also had to dig around and find your proper, published essay from 2017, as this post is simply an abbreviated version of that publication which is missing essential points of your argument and kinda muddied the whole read for me.

You had another post in 2020 dabbling on Midna and Ganondorf’s interactions which, uh… I also had to read through several times.

I'm going to be courteous and put everything I mean to say under a read more, both for the sake of anyone who happens upon this post and for you, in case you don't feel a want or need to even look.

I think I have to start with tackling the crux of this essay: the thought that Ganondorf is gradually humanized during the entire four-phase battle with him, that Ganondorf was written as “an unquiet postcolonial ghost,” and that players are meant to experience, essentially, a hate crime.

“Throughout most of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf is characterized as a ruthless tribal warlord who attacked Hyrule because of his lust for power. As indicated by his monologues and gradual humanization over the course of the final battle, however, Ganondorf represents much more than simply an evil to be defeated. He is introduced to the player as a foolish man who became evil incarnate, and he does little more than scream in rage and pain when the player first sees him in a flashback. When he is allowed to speak for himself, however, he reveals himself to be highly intelligent with motivations that are not unsympathetic.” (The History of Light and Shadow)

While I do agree that Ganondorf may have motives rooted in the eradication of the Gerudo, the problem is that, in order to have this context, players must have played Ocarina of Time first.

Ocarina of Time really set in stone the animosity between the Gerudo and the other peoples of Hyrule, given how wearing the Gerudo mask evokes anything from townsfolk in Castle Town screaming in fear to Darunia straight up saying, “I hate the Gerudo!”

Without that context, however, any potential humanization in this aspect is lost, for lack of a better term.

I don’t know how else to explain that Wind Waker is masterful in its humanization of Ganondorf because it talks about Ocarina of Time. Ocarina of Time is the ghost haunting the narrative of Wind Waker. The game opens with a retelling of Ocarina of Time’s plot, Link is compared to the Hero of Time by elder deities such as the Deku Tree and Valoo, Daphnes constantly hammers in how Link was not chosen by the gods like OoT Link or even TP Link were, the boy has to hunt for the pieces of the Triforce of Courage that had shattered after the Hero of Time wound up in Termina, literally picking up the pieces the Hero of Time left behind! And when Link finally enters Hyrule Castle, what is there to greet him but the statue of the Hero of Time?

So, it makes perfect sense, then, that Ganondorf in Wind Waker would reflect on what led him up to this point. Of course he would think on his foiled plot, on the people he abandoned, the people who disappeared because of him. And of course, because he is so set in his ways and so stubbornly determined to fulfill his goal, Ganondorf wants not the Great Sea the goddesses left behind, but Hyrule. Because he’s always wanted Hyrule.

Perhaps more than any other game, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker is the true sequel to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

In contrast, in The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, the events of Ocarina of Time didn’t happen. Any reference to Ocarina of Time is referred to as “ancient,” as if hushed whispers from a distant past. While Wind Waker hammers Ocarina of Time over the player’s head with its plot beats, character interactions, and imagery, Twilight Princess functions more as an echo of Ocarina of Time. The gameplay is similar and Link bears a striking resemblance to the Hero of Time, but the game itself is largely separated from Ocarina, with Ganondorf as the enigmatic specter behind the scenes, a literal ghost story uttered by the petrified spirits of a forgotten age.

Because of this quiet refusal to discuss Ocarina of Time, players aren’t allowed to understand Ganondorf. It is why he feels so weakly written compared to his Adult Timeline counterpart. People in Hyrule today know nothing of the Gerudo. Link’s map refers to Gerudo Desert as “The Great Desert.” It is a forbidden place, only accessible via cannon as the main pathways are blocked off. The desert itself is empty, deprived of life or civilization, with the only places of note being a Sky Puzzle and the Cave of Ordeals.

It is a subtle horror, yes. The thought of an entire people, an entire culture and way of life being wiped off the face of the earth, erased by a country that refuses to discuss ancient sins and would rather focus on the everyday or on borderline cryptids like the Oocca is a poignant one. As you’ve said, it mirrors post-imperialist movements to censor or downplay unsavory moments in history, from American textbooks attempting to downplay slavery to Japanese efforts to wipe away thoughts of Korean comfort women.

But you need Ocarina of Time to understand it.

If any player is just as clueless as Link and going through this journey for the first time, Ganondorf is portrayed exactly the way the game wants him to be: as a menacing, power-hungry, evil man who puts himself above the gods themselves, given his defacing the effigies of the goddesses when Midna confronts him in Hyrule Castle’s throne room.

Furthermore, Ganondorf’s acts throughout the final battle do little to humanize him. In his first monologue, he:

Degrades Midna and her people and refers to them and the Fused Shadow as inferior beings and “petty magic”

Dangles Princess Zelda over Midna and Link's heads like a trophy

Puts himself on the same level as the goddesses by wielding one of their pieces and defacing the Royal Family’s images of them

Upon being met with defiance from Midna, then possesses Zelda as a means to personally hurt Midna and force Link to confront Zelda

credit for the above gifs goes to @hyrulehistoria on tumblr

On this last bullet in particular, it’s certainly… interesting that you stated this regarding Puppet Zelda:

“Ganondorf later possesses Zelda as a means of forcing Link to sheath his sword before a real battle can commence, and this hostage strategy is awful. Nevertheless, the bluntness of this ultimatum should have been effective. When Link proves that he will not hesitate to kill even Zelda herself, only then is Ganondorf overcome with rage.” (03/27/2020)

Whereas in actual gameplay, Link is incapable of harming Zelda’s body. The entire fight against Puppet Zelda is comprised of Dead Man’s Volley, where you’re turning Ganon’s magic against him and stunning him; or, simply evading Puppet Zelda’s attacks as Ganondorf has her flying sword first at you. During this entire fight, Link is unable to strike Zelda’s body with the Master Sword, nor can he fire an arrow at her. This first phase isn’t about killing Zelda; rather, it’s about incapacitating Ganondorf.

credit for above gifs goes to @sacredflames on tumblr

Link clearly shows visible relief when Midna squishes Ganondorf out of Zelda, I don’t know how you missed that one.

credit to @fuckyeahlink on tumblr

In phase two, Ganondorf doesn’t utter a word, instead morphing into Beast Ganon in an effort to destroy Link. When that doesn’t work, he enshrouds Hyrule Castle in twilight, where Link and Zelda would be incapable of battling Ganondorf directly. Midna then teleports the two out of Hyrule Castle and dons the Fused Shadow, facing Ganondorf alone.

When next we see Ganondorf, he is on horseback, and he has a new trophy: Midna’s helmet.

Everything up to this point paints Ganondorf as the “ruthless tribal warlord” the sages characterize him as. I genuinely don’t know how you saw Ganondorf explicitly regarding the Twili’s greatest power so lowly that he destroys it and practically tramples it with his ghost riders, and then said this:

“When we next see Ganondorf, he is holding Midna’s crown, which crumbles to dust in his hand. We think he’s killed Midna, but of course he hasn’t. Ganondorf has spared Midna’s life and obliterated the cursed artifact that transformed her into an uncontrollable monstrosity. This incident marks the last time we see Midna in her imp form, which means that the spell on her has now been lifted.

“Ganondorf has suffered through war, genocide, and unimaginable physical pain, yet he does not kill Midna, who has openly attempted to kill him. He takes the formidable weapon Midna has been assembling throughout the game and, instead of using it, destroys it.” (03/27/2020)

(Sidenote: Where on earth did you gather that the Fused Shadow is uncontrollable? Midna was simply inexperienced with it the first time she used its full potential, which is why she collapses after breaking the barrier surrounding Hyrule Castle. She used the Fused Shadow to squeeze Ganondorf out of Zelda’s body like a lemon, and seemed to have a perfectly good handle on it when using it to face Ganondorf alone.)

((Double sidenote: The very last time we see Midna in her imp form is after Ganondorf’s death, where she is sitting in Hyrule Field with the Light Spirits. That’s the whole reason why Link runs to her. Because the Light Spirits revived her. And they lifted her curse. Look, they even look at the camera like, “Heeeeeey, we got your girl~”))

((Did… Did you forget that?))

Just before the final phase of the battle, Ganondorf unsheathes his own blade, regarding Link’s as “impressive looking… but nothing more,” and then makes a declaration to “blot out the light forever.”

With his final words, Ganondorf hisses out, “Do not think this ends here… The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!”

You have interpreted these final utterings as a warning to Link and Princess Zelda:

“At the end of Twilight Princess, broken and defeated, Ganondorf still finds the strength to warn Zelda and Link about how a cycle of hatred has created a history ‘written in blood.’” (03/27/2020)

However, I choose to read it more as a final “Fuck you,” much in the same way that Demise’s curse in Skyward Sword could be read. However, both readings are mere speculation, not fact. We may never know the “true” meaning of Ganondorf’s words, which I quite like.

Now, I fully agree with the sentiment that, symbolically, Ganondorf is the ghost of the old world returning to terrorize a postcolonial country. However, at least in my interpretation, Ganondorf is not humanized by the game’s narrative. Any potential depth that Ganondorf has must be inferred, as according to plain text, he is simply the most evilest villain ever and must be stopped no matter what.

Is it the tired, racist stereotype of the barbaric, war-mongering brown man seeking to destroy the good and pure fragile kingdom? Yes, it very much is. It is sadly a very easy way for Nintendo to shorthand why Ganondorf is so evil and terrible and must be purged from this good and blessed nation. That said, I firmly believe that Ganondorf is portrayed exactly the way Nintendo wanted him to be: as an egotistical, self-righteous, manipulative man, who believes himself untouchable and deserving of Hyrule because he, too, was chosen by the gods.

Is there a hypocrisy to criticizing Ganondorf for holding godlike aspirations, when the descendants of the Goddess Hylia have held dominion over Hyrule for countless generations? Yes, there is. I won’t deny that. However, we must remember that Twilight Princess was released before Skyward Sword came along and did that; so, within the context of this game, Hyrule was just ruled by a royal family, not a goddess-blessed-mandate-of-heaven one.

All that aside, there is something else I need to mention, too: Why Midna shattered the Mirror of Twilight.

You have stated multiple times that Ganondorf’s death was wrongful, and it is that hate-filled death that makes Midna realize Hyrule has no place for people like Ganondorf or herself, which is why she chooses to shatter the mirror. You’ve also stated that Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf?

“… Link kills him anyway, and the cruelty of this act convinces Midna that it’s impossible for her to remain in Hyrule as an ethnic minority.” (10/20/2024)

“… but it is significant that this occurs immediately after she has witnessed the fight between Link and Ganondorf.” (… Light and Shadow)

Which, uh…

Midna was dead during that. I know a lot of people didn’t play Twilight Princess, so I need to reiterate: Midna was dead during that. She didn’t see that.

Even if she did, Midna literally wanted him dead five minutes ago. She declared to his face, “I will risk everything to deny you!” Why would Ganondorf’s death suddenly influence her to do something so drastic, if she wasn’t already thinking of this throughout the second half of the game?

I suppose there is a cryptic aspect to Midna’s final interaction with Link and Princess Zelda, wherein she states: “Light and shadow can’t mix, as we all know.”

Did Midna believe she will never belong in Hyrule? Did she, as you state, realize that “there is no room for ‘monsters’ in Hyrule[?]”

To land on this sentiment, however, is to forget a very literal aspect of Midna’s existence in Hyrule: Until she was blessed with light, whether it be from Zelda’s aspect or from the Light Spirits themselves, Midna physically could not live in Hyrule. In the first half of the game, when she isn’t in the twilight, Midna will retreat into Link’s shadow.

It’s the only place where she is safe; otherwise, the light will harm her. This is most evident when Zant turns the Light Spirit, Lanayru, against Midna, and the poor imp is hit with a full blast of concentrated light.

Like, the light literally almost killed her. It stands to reason that the other Twili would more than likely react the exact same way.

I guess in that way, you are correct. Midna quite literally does not belong in Hyrule, nor do the Twili. The thought is a heartbreaking one; to say that, biologically, you are the other. That you will never have a place here because you are built differently.

Along that same vein, though…

There… is room for monsters in Hyrule. For me to really bring this point home, I need to talk about the bulblins.

Now, bulblins are kind of your main goon in Twilight Princess. We have bokoblins and keese and deku babas, for sure, but bulblins are… different. From the moment we’re introduced to them, they are organized and coordinated. While bokoblins are shown as more “primitive” with their use of large clubs, bulblins have an array of weapons, from clubs with big old rocks attached to them, to riding on massive boars called bulbos to attack you whether on horseback or on the ground, to arrows that are dipped in oil and set ablaze. They literally set an oil trap for Wolf Link on the Bridge of Hylia and tried to burn him and Midna to death! Like… that’s so cool. Bulblins are so fucking cool, we never see monsters quite this intelligent ever again.

And I haven’t even brought up King Bulblin yet. Throughout the game, the leader of the bulblins is portrayed not as yet another monster to be eradicated, as we have with Zant and Ganondorf, but instead as a rival for Link. He jousts the boy twice on the Bridge of Eldin and the Bridge of Hylia, respectively; he battles Link just outside of the Arbiter’s Grounds with a giant axe, just after Link cleared out an entire camp of bulblins.

Is there something worth noting about the player aka Link killing all these monsters if they’re intelligent and sapient like people? Well, wouldn’t you kill a band of human thieves in Skyrim if they slighted you? Kidnapped your friends and family? Slaughtered your livestock and hung their horns over their giant gate as a personal taunt?

It is only after besting King Bulblin for the final time, in Hyrule Castle’s courtyard, that the leader finally concedes defeat, proclaiming, “I only follow the strongest!” He recognizes Link as an equal, and he agrees to back off. In the end credits, King Bulblin and his guys are riding around on their big old bulbos, no longer terrorizing innocent people.

Now, we could argue all day about whether they’re only allowed in Hyrule because Link one-upped them and these guys now consider themselves subservient to him. Regardless, the end credits show that even Bulblins belong in Hyrule. They, too, have a place here.

And if we go by Zelda’s final plea to Midna, so do the Twili.

“Shadow and light are two sides of the same coin… One cannot exist without the other. I know now why the goddesses left the Mirror of Twilight in this world. They left it because it was their design that we should meet. Yes… That is what I believe.”

But the thing is, Midna already made up her mind. She made up her mind a long time ago.

But that’s not good enough for you. Is it?

“… Midna's reactions over the course of the story deserve far more attention than simply taking what she says at face value.” (10/21/2024)

And as a fun little bonus round, I need to just say little things concerning your argument of Hyrule’s “slow apocalypse.” In your essay, you refer to Hyrule’s “eroding ruins and decaying ghost towns,” such as the Hidden Village, or Snowpeak Ruins, or the random little stone area just outside of Castle Town that houses a Sky Puzzle, as environmental suggestions of Hyrule’s gradual downfall. But to insinuate that the erasure of the Gerudo or the slaughtering of Ganondorf are primary symptoms of this decline would be disingenuous.

“Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf and the Gerudo, Hyrule is now in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its borders.” (A Legend of Regret…, p.52)

“The people of Hyrule are entering the twilight of their civilization under the rule of an ineffectual leader that has not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity… The potential for energetic dynamism represented by Ganondorf has been violently denied in favor of cultural and ideological purity…” (A Legend of Regret…, p.56)

Cultural exchange is actively happening in Hyrule during the game. The only place you can argue is truly “culturally pure” is Hyrule Castle Town itself, with people from all reaches of Hyrule integrating themselves into this “pure” culture one way or another. Everywhere else, however?

Renado, the leader of Kakariko Village, is outright stated to be proficient in treating both Gorons and Zora. Gorons are not only allowed to sell their hot spring water to residents in Castle Town, but are actually permitted to enter Hyrule Castle itself to sell their wares. Or, at least they were before the Twilight Invasion began. Malo’s business practices more than likely reflect Sera’s, given his upbringing in Ordon, and he then brings that frugal model into Castle Town, where the people rejoice.

credit to @roaxes on tumblr

Gorons taught Mayor Bo how to sumo, and in turn, Bo teaches Link. Even the yeti, Yeto, teaches Link how to snowboard to get to Snowpeak Ruins! You can then race him and his wife afterwards! The passing down of culture is at play in real time in this game!

I’d hardly say that Hyrule is in a state of decline. If anything, given such innovations as high-quality pictographs in places like Hena’s Fishing Hole, fully electric lighting in Castle Town’s Malo Mart, and advanced weaponry like Auru’s bazooka—as well as Hyrule’s apparent religious enlightenment, given that this is the most secular that we have ever seen the country—I’d argue that Twilight Princess’s Hyrule is actually on the cusp of an industrial revolution.

But those are just my own thoughts.

Also, ruins and ghost towns exist all over the real world. Roanoke Island, Nara Dreamland, Imber… There are countless examples. Sometimes a disaster befalls a town, and it’s easier to relocate than to start over where you were. Sometimes you can’t maintain a house and it gets abandoned. Sometimes an area is reclaimed by the government or the military. Sometimes a town dies out because its lifeblood runs dry, forcing residents to relocate elsewhere. Given the massive disparity between the rich and the poor in this game, this feels the more likely scenario.

Does that mean the real world is on the decline, too? I suppose that depends on who you ask.

And finally, as you’ve stated before, Link is what the game and the player dictate he be. You’ve tried stating in your essay that “if the gameplay demand that Link must defeat enemies in order to advance,” or that he “ransack ancient temples to progress,” then he is a killer and a “marauder.” (A Legend of Regret…, p. 54) However, that is to ignore the story once again.

The only temples Link arguably “ransacks” are the Arbiter’s Grounds, and the Temple of Time. Link is given permission to enter the Forest Temple, the Goron Mines, Lakebed Temple, Snowpeak Ruins, and the Twilight Realm. Link was even, debatably, given permission to uncover everything in the Temple of Time, as the ancient sages had instructed him to go there. The Arbiter’s Grounds is the dodgiest one to discuss, because nobody should be there. It’s a necessary evil, but to accuse Link of further desecrating a place Hyrule and Zant have already stained would be a hard pill to swallow.

And then we have the big one: The killing of Ganondorf.

Why was Link so cruel? Why wasn’t there a way to stop Ganondorf peacefully? Why couldn’t Link and Zelda just talk to Ganondorf, after he “[refrained] from taking control of the kingdom through conquest and murder, even though doing so would have been well within his abilities[?]” (03/27/2020)

I think we’re ignoring the fact that Ganondorf acted through Zant and killed countless Twili to achieve his goals. We see soldiers in Hyrule Castle, but how many more were there before the Twilight Invasion began? How many people died in Kakariko Village? What would have become of Ordon Village, or their children, had Link not awoken as the chosen hero? What would have become of the Twilight Realm, had Ganondorf not been content with only Hyrule?

If one man believes himself a god, and he is threatening the lives and wellbeing of not one realm, but two, then what choice does a boy chosen by the gods, by royals, by the people, have? Is it truly so monstrous? Do the ends justify the means? Is it cruelty? Salvation?

I don’t know. And neither do they.

Now, why did I bother writing this whole thing? What was the point?

Quite simply, since your first publication iterating these thoughts was back in 2017, and your most recent post in 2024 proclaims that Link is a murderer, it means that your interpretation of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess is one that you’ve held for at least seven years, if not even longer. There’s nothing wrong with interpretation. The problem, however, is that you portray your take as “the correct one,” or the “big brained, deep one,” given how the thoughts you bring up in this first essay have been repeated by you again and again, whether it be the aforementioned “Link killing Ganondorf was an act of cruelty,” or “Why did Midna really shatter the Mirror of Twilight?”

And… The game already answered those questions. The game has already refuted your claims. You’ve just been ignoring it, and you’ve been encouraging everyone else to do the same.

And I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to start a conversation about it.

TLDR: Uhhhhh please don't misconstrue what was in the game in order to make your argument because that's Not Cool, and I invite everyone to please play or watch a playthrough of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess in order to form your own educated opinion!

Basically ummmm please reread the book before writing your book report.

And here are all my referenced sources so nobody thinks I'm pulling this out of my ass:

A Legend of Regret: Fallen Kingdoms and Postcolonial Ghosts in Twilight Princess

Tumblr Post Dated 03/27/2020

Tumblr Post Dated 10/20/2024

Tumblr Post Dated 10/21/2024

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF LOVE ꒱ RORONOA ZORO X READER

warnings ⟢ slight angst (though it gets resolved). hurt/comfort. mentions of death and dying. descriptions of blood and wounds. brief allusions to buddhism. reader is gn and described as “beautiful” once.

word count ⟢ 1086

notes ⟢ happy birthday to my most beloved! this fic is self-indulgent (i.e. full of my hcs about zoro’s childhood) and a labor of love. the three of swords design in the banner is from the rider-waite tarot deck. three of swords generally depicts a difficult, sorrowful experience.

So this is how it ends.

The midafternoon horizon is fathomless—a halycon ocean—the sun anchored in its depths. A cool breeze stirs, kissing his tawny flesh, rustling his hair, and chiming his earrings; whispering beachgrass casts sinuous shadows across his face, allowing his good eye to rest in partial shade. Nearby, the tide laps at the shoreline—tenderly, the caress of a lover. Foam glides across half-buried seashells and beached debris in a brief greeting before returning to the sea, heeding her call.

Where Zoro is, he can’t be certain (not an uncommon occurence, though he would never admit it). His robe was slashed off at some point, and fell to the ground in shorn tatters. He lies bare-backed in a slurry of sand and ichor, his swords beside him; weeping wounds litter his torso, the most gruesome of which stretches from his navel to his right side. While he had the wherewithal to cut his haramaki and tie it around his waist as a makeshift tourniquet, the fabric is sodden, metallic teardrops puddling in the sand.

Pain is a feeling he greets like an old friend. It’s comforting, almost, like a suffocating embrace. As a boy, he had to nurture that cold familiarity if he wanted to survive—be it fighting bigger kids for spare scraps at the orphanage, or taking lashes from a bokken at the dojo. Strength comes with a cost, as does physical and mental growth. Existence is suffering, and suffering is—in its purest form—pain. But the mind-numbing sting that currently radiates from his injuries is the last thing on his mind.

For the first time in years, Zoro is afraid. He shivers despite the scorching sunbeams, sucking in shallow mouthfuls of air, glistening beads of sweat sliding down his body toward the earth.

It isn’t the prospect of death that scares him; he has walked most of his life along the corpse-strewn path of demons, fighting against his fate as an asura. And he has peered into death’s grim visage before—too many times count. He even dived into hell and cleaved through its bowels to face Enma, emerging victorious as the king of souls departed.

Regret, however? Regret is a different beast.

It’s why he trembles now, covered in grime and gore, half-lucid. As dark thoughts slink to the forefront of his consciousness, he’s aware that dying here will mean failing. Not simply failing himself and his own dream of becoming the greatest swordsman, but also failing his captain and best friend, and failing to preserve Kuina’s legacy. Most gut-wrenching of all, he knows that dying here will mean failing you. There’s so much Zoro wants to do with you, so much he wants to say. He itches with regret, calloused digits twitching at his sides, desperate to claw his skin off.

Clarity torments him. Memories flit before his steel gaze, now wet—a tear-streaked blade. He sees you: the flicker of your eyes when you tell a story; the curve of your lips when you poke fun at him; the halo of your hair when you nap against his chest; the set of your jaw when you’re serious. More than anything else, he longs to tell you how he feels.

I love you.

Three simple words that he always struggled to string together. Perfect moment after perfect moment was presented to him on a gilt platter: inside the crow’s nest at dawn, or beneath the lush boughs in the tangerine orchard—even perched atop the Sunny’s bow to watch the sunset. He squandered each of these opportunities because he (foolishly) assumed there would be more in the future.

I love you.

If only he could muster the strength to breathe out the sweetness of your name once more—to taste each smooth, honeyed syllable on his lips, to feel it silken on his palate. Maybe then he could forgive himself. But instead, it dies on his tongue as his vision blots and blurs. Eventually, his world goes black.

I love you.

Zoro awakes to the muffled creaking of a hull.

His head pounds, his mouth is bone-dry, and his limbs are leaden and stiff; he feels like death, and suspects that he looks like it, too. Surgical gauze tightly wraps his frame, stifled wounds screaming in agony. When he glances up and sees framed pictures of the crew above his cot, he recognizes where he is: the Sunny’s infirmary. In his periphery, you’re sitting at Chopper’s desk with a book in your lap. He tries (and, to his frustration, fails) to shift into a seated position. As soon as you notice the movement—head snapping up in surprise—you rush to his bedside.

He waits for you to reprimand him for being so reckless while away from the rest of the crew. But you don’t—not yet, anyway. (Not until he’s mostly healed. And for that, he wonders if you may be an angel.) Instead, you kneel on the wooden floorboards to level with him. Your fingertips tentatively brush against his cheekbone, as though you’re testing to ensure that he’s real. Content with what you find, you cup his chin, allowing him to lean into the soft warmth of your touch, catlike.

“I was worried about you. Well, so was everyone else. But I’ll only speak for myself,” you murmur.

His voice is gravel, cragged from disuse. “Sorry.”

After a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “Is Chopper on break?”

You nod. “I’ve picked up the night shift so he can sleep.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Roughly two days.”

“Fuck.”

That draws a chuckle from you.

Zoro swallows. “Listen, I—”

Your thumb grazes his chapped lips, forcing him to pause. “Save your energy, Zo. You don’t have to defend yourself; you’re safe with me. I promise.”

Tired but patient, your gaze breaks him, only to piece him back together. His heart aches.

He inhales deeply. Then—in a flood of emotion he can’t stem—the words flow out: “Y’know I’m not good with feelings…or words. But, uh…” A broad palm wraps around your wrist, your skin hot against his. Ignoring the heat creeping up into his cheeks, he sighs, “I love you.”

Before he can second guess his confession, your lips bloom and burst into a radiant smile, setting your features alight. He doesn’t think you have ever looked more beautiful.

“I know,” you admit airily. Leaning in, you dot a kiss to his scarred eyelid. “I love you, too.”

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 13

Ship: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Plot: It's all for his Sweet one.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags: vomiting, manipulation, alludes to executions, sauron is a weird dude

Notes: this isn't super heavily edited bc im lazy. I wanted to write this part because ofc angst but I wanted to do the reveal before I fucked around with annatar and s2 stuff. I'll go back and forth now between before reveal and after.

Leave a tip if you want.

Halbrand sat on the bed you shared, water dripping from his hair and picking at the skin of his palms. It was a habit he had picked up from you. The moment you walked into the room, you could tell there was something on his mind. You waited for him to speak first, knowing that he would tell you his thoughts without you bothering him with questions. You didn't want to overwhelm him, after all. You simply waited for a few moments before he spoke.

“Have you seen Galadriel?” He asked, his voice was different than usual. Deeper. Almost darker. He didn't look at you, his eyes focused intently on a place on the floor.

“I have not.” You shook your head and approached him. “My love, what is bothering you so?”

Halbrand wet his lips, “Galadrel has discovered my secret.” He must have suspected your confusion, for he continued. “I am not who she thinks. I am not who you think. I am no King of the Southlands.”

You sat next to him on the bed, your brow furrowed in confusion, but you took his hand and held it in yours, lacing your fingers with his. His thumb fidgeted with the ring on your finger, a subtle way of showing you he was there.

“You do not have to be anything you do not wish to be. You know I will be by your side, whatever path you travel.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head, “Sweet one, you misunderstand.”

It seemed that he was trying to find words, but they would not come. You waited for him to speak, but a gnawing had begun in your stomach, an anxiety that started to become overwhelming. You squeezed his hand to remind him you were there, to remind him you cared but also to release the tension that was building inside of you.

“I am not the descendant of a king. I am not a man called Halbrand. I am not even a man.”

You furrowed your brow further as your mind swarmed with the possibilities of what he was saying. Unfortunately, none of your most outlandish thoughts could even scratch the surface of the revelation that was to come.

“Who are you then?”

“I've had many names,” He still could not bring himself to look at you. His palm was red at where he had been picking his skin. His voice changed again, to the most vulnerable you'd ever heard from him.

“My first was Mairon. The Admirable. But the one you know me by, that all know me by, is Sauron.”

The world stopped for you in that instance. Your ears started to ring, and you felt sick. Everything your father had told you, every story you'd heard from the elves, or read in the books filled your mind all at once. Sauron the Deceiver, your father had called him the Deliverer as he would bring swift and violent justice to the elves and bring peace. The stories talked of his face changing. Of his ability to be whatever the person he was deceiving needed most. You could still see the handiwork of him and his master scared into the landscape of your home. You'd read of scores of elves and men and all forms of life that he had willfully murdered in pursuit of power.

That wasn't Halbrand.

Not your Halbrand.

You shook your head and scoffed, letting go of his hand. “This isn't funny, Halbrand.”

He finally looked towards you, reaching for your hand once more and frowning when you pulled it away. “That is not my name. You know it to be true. Search your soul.”

“No, you're Halbrand. You are not him. You're not the great deciver. You are my Halbrand.” You rubbed your hands against your knees, trying to rationalize what he was saying.

Perhaps he was sick. Perhaps the fumes of the forge were affecting him. Or his wound wasn't fully healed, and the enemy poison was altering his mind.

“You are not entirely wrong, my dear. I am yours and I have never decived you. Not like I have others. I have never lied to you, not about more than my name. I just omitted certain truths.”

You felt bile rise from your stomach to your throat, “No. No, you said your father was a blacksmith.”

“Aule, yes. Though he wasn't a father in the way that you think of a father.”

You swallowed thickly as your mind reeled with all the things he'd said of his family and past. His falling out with his ‘father’ and his uncle. If he was Sauron, truly, there was only one being that could be.

“Then your uncle….are saying your uncle was…” the name wasn't able to pass your lips.

“Morgoth. Again, not exactly the truth but as close as you could understand,” He spoke for you, and you're startled up and off the bed, pacing and shaking your head.

This was not possible. You could not believe this.This was your Halbrand. The man you loved. The man who had just a week prior made his intentions of marrying you known. You were to be married. You were absentmindedly fidgeting with the ring he had given you, spining it around your finger as you paced.

“You cannot be he, he is dead. The uruk, Adar, said he killed him. There have been no signs of him for an age.”

He sighed, watching your pacing form. He seemed distraught almost. He could not feel anything like that if he was truly who he said he was. Sauron would not despair at the thought of your turmoil. Sauron would have no purpose in manipulating you. You could bring him nothing of gain.

Unless this was a reward for your fathers deeds. That small voice crept into your mind, and you did your best to push it the back. He was ill, that's why he was making this claim.

“He left me for dead, and I stayed in that place for many lifetimes. I was neither dead nor alive, simply there. As dead as a being such as I can be. I wasted and waited, and suddenly, I felt solid. I could sense my surroundings. I could move, if only barely. It was a mystery. By all accounts, I should have remained in that purgatory forever.”

His fingers grasped yours, and the room around you disappeared, changing until it was a village. Or what was left of a village. Homes were burning, and the sounds or screams filled the air.

“No.” You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You clamped them shut and clasped your hands over your ears to drown the sound of the screams, but the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled your senses. You shook your head over and over. You wished the sight and sounds to be gone. You could not deny it now. No man could cause travel such as this.

He'd transported you to the night your family slaughtered the elves.

The night he'd regained just a semblance of his power.

Suddenly, you could sense light behind your eyes, and you were back on the raft at sea. Upon opening your eyes, his appearance had changed to the dirty rags he'd worn when you were stranded.

“It felt like days, compared to the millenia I spent as nothing, but I have recently found out it was years. Years of gathering my strength to take on this form. 15 years, to be exact.”

Your lip tremebed, shaking your head. “No. No, that's not true. That's not…no.” You were despretatley looking for an answer. “My father did not…no…”

“He did. I am indebted to him and his sacrifice. Not just for bringing me back but for you.” He approached you, the raft shaking under you with his movements.

You backed away from him, the bile rising in your stomach, and suddenly, you were retching. Your body bent in half as you vomited into the sea. You could feel him inside you. His love felt like sludge, weighing down your soul and moving through your veins. This could not be real, but you knew it was. He was too good to be true. He was exactly what you needed when he landed in your life. You were not worthy of the love of a king.

But it all made sense now.

There was nothing special about you. Not truly. He wanted his domination and control and power. You were inconsequential to that. He simply chose you because he knew who you were. This was some reward for your father. Tears pricked at your eyes.

You thought you were special. You thought this was love..

“Is it really so bad?” He spoke, placing a hand on your back. You hated how it felt. It was heavy and hot, and you wanted it off. You felt violated.

“I guess it is.” He answered his own question, his fingers wrapped around your chin and forced you to look at him.

“I did not deceive you. I love you. You are the only thing I have ever loved. I told the elf I would place a crown on her head, and that is true, but only because it would assist my true goal. To give the peoples of Middle Earth peace. To give you peace and safety, and stability. Your safety is more precious than any crown or title. All I do is for you. You are precious to me.” his fingers caressed your cheeks, and he smiled softly.

His smile made you sick.

“You mean to enslave my people.”

“Enslave? No. I will free them from the binds of poverty and war and famine.”

“By what means will you free them? It is not freedom if it is force.”

“Are you not listening?!” He boomed, lightning crashed behind him, and thunder boomed. The waves crashed over the raft. You yelped and flinched, closing your eyes tight again.

Once again, the world around you shifted. You were back in your room. Your lip trembled as you looked at him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Sweet one, I'm sorry. Please. You need not fear me, sweet one. The world should fear but not you. Never you.”

You kept backing away from him. You did not know what to think. He was the villain of your history, og all the free people's history. He was evil. He was darkness. He was plauge and death and deciet. He could only destroy.

“It was all fake.”

“No! No. Don't you see, the only good in me is you.” He followed you until you were backed into a corner, your fingers splayed over the cold material of the wall. This is a reminder that this room was real.

You watched him for a moment, your mind replaying through every memory, but they were distorted now, as if you were watching a play. Your mind was reeling. Just hours early, you'd been in this room with him, talking of your wedding and cuddled into his chest.

“You do this all for me, but you must now I can never be by your side as long as you intend to destroy.” You spoke with a sense of courage you had only just began to develop. Your heart was breaking, but you would not break in front of him. If he were to kill you…..

“Kill you? Do you think I mean to kill you? I could never kill you. In fact, I seek the opposite. I need you. If you can't be by my side, I must know you exist in this world, or I will be driven into madness!”

“How do you read my thoughts?” Your voice was quiet, terrified.

“Because you trust me. I trust you. I respect you. I never look into your mind unless I must. It is not so much reading your thoughts as it is being able to feel it.”

You shook your head, eyes closed tight.

“Do you truly insist on staying with the elves? Do you truly think they will not suspect you to have a hand in all this? That they won't do to you what they did to your family."

As he spoke, the room changed once more.

You were in an elven courtyard. Three men stood at the center. You could see where a little girl stood and watched confused and alone. You could hear Elronds pleas that this was abhorrent to make you watch, that he could not stay silent.

The memory froze. Your eyes looked upon your father for the first time in years. Tears dripped down your cheeks.

“You never saw it. Elrond, ever the soft hearted, took you away, but you could hear it. The sound of your brother screaming. The crunch of their bones as they fell. How they had to take a sword to your uncle because he wouldn't die. Do you think you will be saved from their fate?”

You stayed silent, your jaw tight as you looked ahead and away from him.

“Look at me! Do not ignore me! I am trying to save you!” Lighting cracked again. His voice took a terrible tone as if he spoke from the depths of the abyss.

You shook your head, tears pouring from your eyes now. “We were supposed to have a family.”

~

Your words were soft, quiet, and broken. It was enough that the fire inside of him calmed. The scene around you changed once more, and he simply looked at you.

His sweet one.

You were beautiful. He always had loved beauty and perfection, and you were both. And now you were scared, and he was the cause. He was never to be the cause, only to protect. It had frustrated him at first, infuriated that he could not seem to wish you harm, and if he ever did hurt you, he would apologize and feel guilt. He had hated it, but now, it was part of him.

He had two parts now, it seemed. The darkness and what little light he had left. The light was dying. He knew it. He could not stop the pursuit of these rings of control and power to bring peace and prosperity. He had to remake the world for you as well for his own selfish ambition. But the pursuit of these rings would make him truly unredeemable. It would destroy that last thread of good.

It was worth it. To protect you,anything was worth it. He would keep you safe, no matter the cost, no matter the loss of life. But that small part of him that was still a semblance of good, the part of him that you had resurrected, told him he could not force you with him. He could not clip your wings and force you in a cage. You had to come because you wanted to, you had to join him of your own will.

And you would, after the prosperity and peace, you would see it all to be worth it.

“I will never force you with me. I have never forced anything upon you. You will make that choice when you see the results.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “And when that happens, we will have our family.”

“I will fight against you.”

“You will lose, but you wouldn't be the woman I love if you didnt fight at first” Another kiss, and then he looked over your features as if committing every one of them to memory.

“This is all for you, sweet one. Do not forget it.”

[swan2swan]

The Aizen-Shunsui scenes absolutely rule because this is the first time the two of them can actually be Genuine around each other.

Aizen spent a whole century as a Captain around Shunsui, who probably never fully trusted him but knew he couldn't suspect Aizen of treachery because he'd seen the man walking around innocently with his own eyes. It was his own fault for trusting Urahara, the fiend, he couldn't blame Aizen for that deception.

Meanwhile, Aizen also never got to see the real Shunsui: Kyoraku was always cheerful, drinking, lazing about. I'm sure such sloth and vice disgusted Aizen: a man with so much potential, wasting it. He could be uprooting Soul Society and its pathetic order all by himself, but he chose to waste his time, instead.

And then Shunsui cut down his most prized Espada. He attacked Aizen during his speech. Aizen could have killed him, but instead, he left him wounded, to see and understand his failure...and then Aizen failed himself.

Now, though?

They're both new men. Aizen's dream of changing the world has been snatched away. Shunsui no longer has anyone to do his job for him. There's no way for him to pretend he's anything but a killer, and there's no bravado that Aizen can sufficiently muster, because both of them lack the power to control the outcome of the situation on their own.

They're just Two Dudes right now. Lonely and sad and at the mercy of the other one...so they're honest and open. In that moment, after a century of neither one even sharing a fraction of who they truly are, there's no one they trust more than the other.

[dindjarindiaries]

The Unstoppable Tide

summary: Once Hunter finally let go, there was no holding back, and you were the only person who could keep him from drowning.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: hurt/comfort, angst and fluff, trauma, mentions of physical torture, injuries, nightmares, anxiety attack, canon compliant (tech doesn’t live), mentions of death

rating: T

word count: 4.627k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You woke to an unfamiliar room, and the pitch black shadows that blanketed it were no help in trying to investigate your surroundings. With a silent yawn, you blinked into the darkness, lifting your head from the pillow as you did so. The movement stretched the fabric of your tunic uncomfortably, and looking down, you fell upon an odd realization.

You were still in your clothes from yesterday. You frowned and attempted to jog your tired memory. Your faithfulness to your nighttime routine was rarely ever interrupted or deterred, especially since you had all returned to Pabu for good.

Then again, it had been a whirlwind of a week. From losing Omega again to getting her back and taking up permanent residence on Pabu, there were a lot of things the group was sorting through, yourself included. It was no wonder why you had been too exhausted to even exchange your clothes.

But that still didn’t explain the unfamiliar room. One glance at your surroundings was all it took, because now that your eyes had adjusted, you could finally see the silhouette positioned at the end of the bed you were currently lying in.

Your eyes widened as the memory washed over you. This was Hunter’s room, and you certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep inside of it.

You had been helping him rebandage the wounds on his side, a nicely-healing gash that covered his broken ribs from the hit he took in an explosion on Tantiss. That alone had taken a lot of convincing; Hunter’s defenses had somewhat fallen after you had all brought Omega back to Pabu safely, but they went right back up once he had gotten a wink of rest.

As you finished wrapping him up, you had started to gently lecture him on the importance of getting more sleep, as he had clearly been avoiding it ever since that first night back. The circles under his eyes were almost as dark as the left side of his ribcage, where his wounds were. At some point, however, Hunter had fallen asleep during your lecture, and you had let yourself linger, if only to share a peacefully quiet moment with him.

You must have also joined him in slumber. It didn’t have to be a bad thing, not at all as far as you were concerned, but Hunter was in too fragile of a state for you to be overstaying welcomes—and the fact he had his back to you now was even more worrying.

Hunter wasn’t even reacting to the fact that your heartbeat had clearly picked up ever since you woke, and that alone promised that something very, very wrong was happening with him. He wasn’t listening to his powerful senses. He was listening to something else.

You dared to sit up as you held a breath in your chest. He was hunched over slightly, as if he was leaning on something, and he was still without a tunic, thanks to the fresh bandage on his side. Otherwise, he was completely still, making him look like one of the other many shadows scattered throughout the room.

You managed to swallow around the lump in your throat and moved forward. Once you got closer to him, you hesitated, taking in what you could from this distance. He had one arm crossed over himself, and the other was leaning against it as he pinched the bridge of his nose—a typical position when his senses were in disarray, or when the weight of the galaxy was simply too much.

In this case, it was probably both, judging by the deep furrow in his brow.

You finally sat at Hunter’s side, letting your legs hang off the edge of the bed as you looked over at him. His eyes were still shut tight, and like before, he remained unmoving. You dared to lift your hand to his bare shoulder, touching the warmth of his skin with as much delicacy as you could manage.

“Hey.”

Your voice was a mere whisper to avoid shocking him and his senses. You resisted the urge to flinch when Hunter lowered his hand enough to turn his head towards you. His dark eyes widened just a bit more than usual.

“You okay?”

Hunter’s lips parted as if he was about to respond, but nothing came out. His shoulder rose and fell under your touch with the unsteady breath he took. You grimaced at the sound of it, a gesture that only deepened when Hunter lifted his hand to ease yours off of him.

“I’m sorry,” the guilt began pouring in waves, “I should’ve asked you before I—.”

“It’s fine.”

Hunter’s voice was curt and rougher than usual as he spoke. You really did flinch that time, unused to hearing him speak like that. Still, there was a softness in the way he eased your hand onto your own leg before letting go.

“Just… go back to your bed.” He lifted his fingers to his nose again and pinched it even tighter, his eyes soon following suit.

You sat there, undecided, for a few long heartbeats. You folded your hands together in your lap and dared to speak up again. “Hunter…”

“Don’t.” Hunter tensed more than he had before, which was visible without a tunic to conceal the muscles on his upper half. His eyes squeezed even harder, as did his brow. “Please, just leave and get some rest.”

But that was the last thing you wanted to do, knowing he was in such a state. You could see that he had started to tremble, something that was evident not just in his hands, but also in his voice—and his breathing, which was only getting more and more labored. Hunter was trying to hide it, but it was clearly becoming too much to control.

And he wanted you to leave him to deal with it on his own.

“I’ll be fine.” You nodded and leaned closer to him. “You don’t have to be alone right now. Let me help you.”

Something in your words made Hunter snap. He turned towards you even more quickly than last time, his words biting through gritted teeth. “Leave.”

You stared back at him in disbelief, though you had at least leaned back in surprise at the quick motion. Hunter let out an exhale that was nearly a gasp, as if he was losing air. His gaze couldn’t meet yours as he instead focused on the floor, his chest now rising and falling more rapidly than before.

“Please...”

Hunter once again wrapped an arm around himself and leaned the other against it, though this time, he tightened his hand into a fist and rested his forehead against it. He was so tense that every muscle you could see was pulled taut, which certainly wouldn’t bode well for his injuries.

“Please make this easier for me, and leave.”

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears when he finally went silent again. You weren’t sure if they were from the hurt he was causing you by pushing you away like this or from the intense concern and sympathy you had for him. Either way, you weren’t going to ignore his request again, not when he was already millimeters away from fracturing in a way you had never witnessed before.

You rose from the bed and eased yourself over to the door, only pausing again when you were standing directly across from it. You spared a look at Hunter over your shoulder. His face was in his hands, as if he was just waiting for your heartbeat to fade before letting himself shatter. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to step forward through the sliding door, though you remained glued in place when it shut behind you.

Because you heard that first cry, that heart-splintering sob that no one should ever have to let out by themselves. The sound of someone so strong finally falling underneath the weight of everything burden they have been carrying for way too long. The door did a poor job of muffling what was happening inside that room, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave. You wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

Hunter would always be the first to say that none of you were keen on following orders.

You turned and let the door open again, admitting yourself back inside the dark space. Hunter looked up at you from his hands, and what you were met with splintered your heart into a million different fragments. His face was screwed up in a kind of vulnerable despair and panic that you had never seen from him before, not even after Tech fell and Omega was captured the first time.

You strode towards him. “I’m not letting you go through this alone, Hunter.”

You stopped just a few paces away from where he still sat on the edge of the bed, his wet eyes glistening when a fraction of moonlight caught them through the blinds of the viewport.

“You don’t have to hide from me. I know that you’re—.”

You cut yourself off when Hunter suddenly stood and approached you. He wrapped his arms around you and splayed his palms upon your back, holding you so tightly against him that you lost your breath for a moment. He eased his grasp when he heard the breath escape your lungs, but the desperation remained, evident in the way he trembled against you.

Lastly, he buried his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in with a sharp exhale like you alone could save him.

You finally recovered enough from your initial shock to hold him back, with one hand positioned on his head as the other ran over his back. You were careful with his wounds that were still healing, but there was no doubt now that his external injuries weren’t nearly as bad as those he had been hiding within himself all this time.

Hopefully, he was ready to heal those untreated wounds, rather than letting them fester within himself.

Hunter wasn’t really crying, not from what you could tell, but the trembling was getting worse—as was his breathing. It was easy to understand now why he couldn’t grasp your senses before; his own heart was beating hard enough to drown out just about everything else.

“I’ve got you.” Your voice was a soft whisper as you repeated assurances he had certainly said to you and the others a dozen times over, when he held onto his composure for the sake of soothing everyone else around him. “You’re safe.”

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly had Hunter breaking down like this, but your best guess was that his memories of Tantiss were haunting him, however brief his time spent there actually was. He had given you a brief account purely for medical reasons, but the others had filled you in on what they could.

He had endured awful torture, all while he was still processing the pain of his untreated wounds and feeling the pain of them more than anyone else in the galaxy ever would, thanks to his senses—senses that were supposed to be a gift, used against him.

You tightened your jaw and closed your eyes. Hunter didn’t need anger; that was one of the emotions that had caused him to spiral like this. He needed softness, reassurance, and comfort.

“No one will hurt you like that again.” Your voice was as gentle as the hand that ran over the hair at the crown of his head, minding the edges of his bandana. “I promise.”

Hunter physically relaxed at that, but his breathing still wasn’t getting any better. He started to hold you tighter again, and you could hear another gasped exhale buried into your shoulder.

It was clear to you now what was happening, and despite the way you were relishing in his touch, it wasn’t going to help him any longer. You eased your hands onto his shoulders and urged him to pull away from you. His gaze found yours for the first time that night, and your heart dropped into your stomach at everything you found within it.

It was a leader who was afraid, and had no idea what to do next. An eldest brother who failed to find any guidance. A soldier whose anxiety, trauma, and PTSD was getting the best of him for the first time.

He had been so strong to fight it off in the past, but it made you ache that he even had to do that. You should have been there for him before this moment. It shouldn’t have had to come to this.

But you could ruminate over that later. For now, you needed to provide him with the solution he was clearly seeking. You eased him back down onto the edge of the bed by his shoulders, keeping your actions slow and steady as you nodded at him.

“Your mind’s thinking faster than your body can keep up with.”

You ran your thumbs over the skin on his shoulders. Hunter’s gaze never left yours, as if you were anchoring him to reality.

“That’s what’s happening right now. We just have to focus on one thing at a time. Okay?”

Hunter nodded. You offered him a small smile.

“Let’s start by getting your breathing back to normal.” You stood close enough to him that you could ease the side of his head against your chest, letting him and his senses have easier access to your heart and your lungs. “Focus your senses on my lungs, and follow my breaths.”

You inhaled steadily, held it for a few heartbeats, and then let it go again in a long exhale. Your eyes fell closed as you repeated the cycle, but after the fourth or fifth time, you reopened your eyes to watch Hunter’s progress.

His eyes had also closed, and thankfully, his breathing was indeed getting better. He had taken the liberty of setting his hands on your hips to steady himself, but you didn’t mind. You committed the feeling to memory even if your focus remained on his well-being.

After a few more cycles of breathing, you spoke up into the silence. “Better?”

Hunter nodded against your chest, easing his head back up. You let him go, already missing the warmth of his touch as he withdrew it from your hips. His hands held his thighs tight before they slid down to his knees, his stare now darting wildly around the room as if he was truly understanding what had happened.

You tightened your lips and took your spot on the bed beside him again. At least this time, he didn’t push you away. In fact, he kept you close enough for your arm to brush against his, even if he still couldn’t look at you. You let him guide the conversation, and as heavy as his next exhale was, at least it was steady.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Hunter’s voice was hoarser than usual, and that was saying something for a man who always sounded as if he had roughened up his voice on a daily basis.

You frowned and leaned forward. “Why?”

A muscle in Hunter’s jaw ticked before he finally looked over at you again. His gaze was conflicted, still full of distress while also finding some semblance of comfort in you. “Because.” He looked down at his hands, which flexed over his own legs. “I’m not supposed to fall apart.”

“We’re all bound to at some point.” You eased your hand upon his arm. “Especially when we’ve been through as much as you have.”

Hunter shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t.” He spared a look at you, but it seemed as if he was too guilty to even sustain the glance as his gaze lowered back to his hands. “I have no right to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you talking about, Hunter?”

His expression morphed into something heavier, and his voice lowered so much that you had to strain to hear it. “Everything that’s happened since Kaller has been my fault.”

You scoffed. “That’s just not true, Hunter.”

“It is.”

Hunter was stern as he finally looked over at you. There was fire in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed towards you. It was aimed towards himself.

“If I had taken Crosshair with us before we even left Kamino the first time, or if I had at least gone back for him soon after that… there would have been no rescue mission to attempt on Eriadu.”

Hunter’s voice started to shake again, but not as violently as before. Your shoulders fell at the pure grief and despair in his words.

“Tech would still be here.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m not letting you go down this path.” You took his hands and held them between yours. “Because if Tech were here, he’d been absolutely grilling you about how wrong you are right now.”

That at least made Hunter scoff in amusement.

“You said it yourself to Crosshair at that outpost. We didn’t understand what was going on back then.” You lifted your brow at him. “How were you, or any of us, supposed to know what the chips were like, until we had to see it ourselves with Wrecker?”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah, and that should’ve pushed us harder to get Crosshair back.”

“And I’m sure it would’ve, if you hadn’t been shot in the chestplate by that bounty hunter who took Omega. We had a lot going on at that point, Hunter. It was survival mode.”

Hunter circled his jaw. “That’s not an excuse to leave one of our own behind.” He almost looked dizzy as he freed a hand from your grasp to press against his forehead. “Kriff, we… we didn’t even go back for Tech’s body.” He ground out the next name through gritted teeth. “Hemlock was the one to salvage his goggles.”

You gave the hand in your grasp a gentle squeeze. “If we had gone back for his body, we wouldn’t have made it out of there alive.” You fought through the heaviness in your own chest. “Which is the whole reason why Tech sacrificed his life in the first place.”

Hunter’s gaze looked towards the viewport, allowing the moonlight to yet again catch his face. Even with the tattooed side of his face turned towards you, you could still see the glistening of a new tear on the skin beneath his eye, though his body language screamed for him to ignore it. His tone gave nothing away as he spoke again.

“I thought it was gonna happen again.”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

Hunter closed his eyes and hung his head, though he otherwise stood strong. “That I was gonna lose more of them. Of us.” His voice was strained as he went on. “It was the torture that woke me up for the first time since I got knocked out at the hangar. I knew Wrecker and Crosshair were nearby, but their heartbeats were weaker than normal, and the shocks were… overwhelming my senses, anyway.”

You accidentally tightened your grasp on Hunter’s hand hard enough to make him wince. You quickly relaxed, forcing yourself to bite your tongue and let Hunter continue.

“Hemlock came in, and he warned me that history would repeat itself with them.” Hunter shook his head. “I told him we would survive, but a small part of me believed him. The same part that watched that doctor toss me my brother’s own shattered goggles.”

One of your hands drifted up his arm as you held it, your cheek pressing against his skin for comfort. “Hunter…”

“I knew we should’ve listened to Crosshair and stayed in hiding, but everyone wanted the chance to get him back, and I did, too.” Hunter reopened his eyes and looked at you again. “I wanted it so badly. But if I had just done that before, if I had made him come with us off Kamino…”

“Hunter.” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and lifted your brow, seeking permission to speak. Hunter’s silence allowed you to go on. “You gave him a choice to come with us, and he said no. After the chip took his choices away from him, would you really have wanted to take another one away, too? Even if it wasn’t the right one in your eyes?”

Hunter grimaced, and ultimately, he shook his head.

“Exactly.” You paused, searching his gaze. “You can’t take responsibility for all of Crosshair’s actions.”

“And I won’t, because Crosshair wouldn’t want me to.” Hunter sighed. “But I still can’t help wondering what would have been if I hadn’t let us leave him behind for so long.”

“In that case, the rest of us are just as guilty as you. I don’t remember us putting any pressure on you to go back for him.”

Hunter looked around the room and blinked, as if he was truly processing your words. You took that as an invitation to continue.

“And honestly, Hunter? All roads would have led back to Tantiss, anyway.”

That caught Hunter’s attention again. He glanced at you in disbelief as you went on.

“The Empire, and Hemlock, would always come for Omega. You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did on Tantiss, and every day ever since I’ve wished that I could’ve done something to prevent it, but now that Hemlock’s dead? We don’t ever have to worry about it again.”

You sighed and looked down at your hand, which was now interlocked with Hunter’s own.

“We freed her and those clones. That’s what matters now. One life… in exchange for many, many others.”

You found yourself smiling as you imagined Tech’s voice in your head.

“A certain someone would have been very satisfied by that outcome.”

Hunter huffed, his eyes closing as he nodded. “Yeah. Would’ve rambled on about the quantitative value of it or something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Exactly.”

You sat in the silence for a few moments, your steady gaze tracking Hunter’s face and tracing the lines of his tattoo until he reopened his eyes. When his stare met yours, you spoke once again.

“The past can’t be undone, Hunter. I know you know that. It’ll take time for these wounds of yours to heal,” you nodded towards his wrapped side, “just like the ones you got on Tantiss, but all you can do now is move forward with what and who you have.”

Hunter took a deep breath, but ultimately, he nodded—with a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like that.”

You couldn’t help returning his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, looking almost nervous as he did so. “I just… I think, like with this one,” he glanced down at his side, “I might need you to help me keep an eye on these wounds.”

“Of course.” You wasted no time reassuring him. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Hunter was beaming at you, now, but your words forced you to reckon with the way you approached this entire situation. You resisted the urge to let out a frustrated groan as you deflated.

“But… I know I should’ve asked a second time before I barged in here.” You looked down. “I’m sorry if I pressured you to talk this through with me. I didn’t—.”

If the hand on your cheek wasn’t enough to make you lose the words inside your throat, then the feeling of Hunter’s mouth on yours certainly was. You were too shocked to do anything at first, especially with everything you were still processing from this night, but you composed yourself quickly enough to avoid letting Hunter think that you didn’t want this gesture that you had absolutely been craving for longer than you’d ever admit.

Hunter only kissed you long enough to make you realize just how badly you needed to do it again, though the warm smile he wore as he pulled away and faced you again made the separation worth it.

“Don’t apologize for that.” He lifted his brow and chuckled in genuine amusement. “I’ve always needed someone who can out-stubborn me.”

You laughed at that. “You sure do make it a challenge, Sarge.”

Hunter gave his eyes a playful role. “I haven’t technically had that rank ever since we deserted.”

“Yet you still act like one.”

Hunter huffed. You let out a light sigh and rested your head against his arm again, closing your eyes in content. Your thoughts, however, still lingered on the larger topic at hand, and you grimaced as you spoke on the dark topic one last time.

“I really am sorry about what you had to go through on Tantiss, and that I wasn’t there to stop it. At least, not in time.” You tightened your jaw. “I wish I could kill Hemlock again for what he did to you.”

The feeling of Hunter’s head against your own caused you to reopen your eyes. You smiled into the darkness of the room. “That just might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You chuckled and shook your head, minding his own that still rested against yours. “You’re crazy.” You couldn’t have put more affection into the words if you had tried.

After all, it was that craziness that had drawn you to Hunter and the squad in the first place.

After a few more sweet moments of silence, you patted his arm. “Alright, time to get some rest. Those wounds aren’t gonna heal themselves.”

You looked up at Hunter, whose brow shot up at your words. “Which wounds?”

“All of them.” You held his face for a moment and ran your thumbs over the dark circles under his eyes. “Literally nothing is made better by you avoiding sleep.” You gestured back towards the viewport. “There are no more battles out there for you. You can afford to rest now.”

Hunter shrugged and encouraged you to follow him back towards the other end of the bed. “Maybe I just couldn’t rest because I needed you with me more than I realized.”

You let out a dramatic scoff. “Then thank the stars you finally realized that.” As you laid beside him, you fixed him with a serious look. “I hope you know I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get proper rest, now.”

Hunter raised his brow beside you. “Whatever it takes? Should I put up more of a fight, then?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes before you took the initiative and leaned in for a quick kiss. “If you want more, then you need to sleep.” You nestled yourself into his chest, letting him hold you the way he clearly wanted to, given the hardly concealed desperation of his touch. “Final offer.”

His voice grumbled his response into your head. “Fine.”

Now hidden from his view, you smiled to yourself in victory. There was a lot to mourn, but also a lot to look forward to. Peace was certainly something you had to earn, but with the right people, you didn’t mind the process.

And it was a relief to know that every wave could truly break, wash away, and still return stronger than before. You had no doubt that Hunter would do the same.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

[laviefantasie]

Video 4

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The sun is setting over the jujutsu high compound, casting warm hues across the courtyard. Inside one of the quieter rooms, Y/N is setting up a small easel, your canvas ready for the first stroke. Brushes, tubes of paint, and a small ceramic bowl of water are neatly arranged beside you. Suguru is already there, sleeves rolled up, looking as if he’s about to become the next world renowned artist. His hair is a little more disheveled than usual, but the slight smirk on his face tells you he is comfortable.

“Alright, the camera is on and focused and I’m setting up my canvas for real this time. You sure you want to join me, Suguru? You’re not really the type to sit still for long”

Suguru chuckles softly, picking up a brush and dipping it into a warm shade of blue.

“It’s called expanding my horizons, Y/N. Plus, I thought you could use a little company”

You nod, smiling as you adjust your canvas, although a teasing twink appears in your bright E/C eyes.

“If we’re doing this, though, don’t turn it into a competition” you remind him, “No ‘who can paint better’ nonsense”

Suguru gives you a lazy, amused grim, clearly enjoying the thought of teasing you while painting.

“No promises” he smirks “But I’ll try my best to make something that doesn’t end in chaos”

Both of you dip your brushes into your chosen colors and start painting. But just as the two of you start getting into the flow of it—Suguru’s brush strokes deliberate and calm, yours more spontaneous and bright—a loud crash interrupts the settled peace.

The door flies open and Gojo Satoru enters with an exaggerated flourish, sunglasses on, and a pout plastered on his face.

“Hey, hey! What is this? You two started a painting party without me!” He whines, “I thought we were friends, Y/N!”

Suguru raises an eyebrow as Satoru dramatically collapses on the floor, looking up to the ceiling with a hand over his heart.

“Did you just… fall in through the door for dramatic effect?” Suguru asks.

Satoru grins widely, “I’m just adding some flair, Suguru. How else do you think I should enter? Also, where’s my invite? I thought we were the three musketeers”

You stifled a laugh, trying to focus on your work, but the camera didn’t forget to capture the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry not sorry, Satoru” you say, “Didn’t think you were the type to sit still and paint. I figured you’d be too busy doing something… important, like annoying people or emptying another dessert shop”

Satoru sats up immediately, and dramatically, throwing his arms out as if wounded.

“Ouch! Is that how you see me? That hurts. I’m offended! I’m a man of taste and class, I’d totally be amazing at painting”

Suguru shakes his head with an amused smile, muttering knowingly to himself as he mixes some paint.

“You wouldn’t last five minutes without making a mess”

Satoru ignores him, “You know, I’m actually artistic. I’m like… a modern-day Picasso. Or Van Gogh—except I have my ears intact”

You turn to glance a him, skepticism on your face.

“Sure. And you’ve definitely read all kinds of art history books, right?”

Satoru winks at her playfully, “Well, I don’t read, but I’m sure I could paint circles around both of you”

Suguru rolls his eyes but, apparently done with Satoru’s antics, offers him a brush.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, you can join us” he relents, “But I’m warning you, we’re professionals here”

The three of them get to work, and immediately, Satoru begins to disrupt everything. You are trying to focus on a landscape with some subtle blending, while Suguru’s painting a more intricate figure. Meanwhile, Satoru is working on his own ‘masterpiece’, which mostly involves scribbling random, chaotic shapes with his brush, his colors clashing wildly with everyone else’s.

Satoru holds up his canvas proudly, “Look, I’m totally channeling my inner abstract genius! It’s a representation of freedom, of rebellion! What do you think?”

You stares at the chaotic mess in front of you, the blue and red clashing violently. You snort, holding back a laugh.

“You’re an actual disaster. It looks like a toddler dipped a paintbrush in a jar of chaos and went wild”

“It’s art” he states, grinning widely.

Suguru chuckles, setting his brush down for a second as he glances over.

“It’s definitely something. Not sure if it’s art, though”

Satoru sticks his tongue out at him before turning back to you, his expression suddenly shifting to something more playful. He walks over to your easel, leaning casually over your shoulder, his face close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.

“But, you know, you’re missing one thing in your painting, Y/N”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure whether you should be annoyed or entertained.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Satoru leans in just a little closer, his voice lowering to a teasing tone.

“A little bit of me. A masterpiece can’t be complete without a dash of perfection”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks turn a light pink against your better judgement. You can never tell if he’s being serious or just trying to get under your skin.

You grab a paintbrush, quickly flicking a spot of green paint onto Satoru’s shirt.

“There. Now it’s perfect��� you smirk.

Satoru stares at the green stain, his mouth falling open in mock horror.

“You’ve ruined me. Ruined my shirt. My image. I’m a tragic artist now”

Suguru laughs from his corner of the room, shaking his head at the two of you.

“You both are insufferable. Seriously, how do you guys even manage to get anything done together?” Suguru asks.

You let out a laugh, “It’s called balance, Suguru. I paint, and Satoru provides chaos”

Satoru dramatically flops onto the floor again, spreading his arms out as if he’s defeated.

“You know, this could’ve been a perfect group activity if it weren’t for you two conspiring against my genius”

Suguru raises a brow, amused, “You are a genius—just not in the way you think you are”

After a few more hours of chaotic painting, in which a lot of paint ended up in both Satoru’s and your clothes, the three of you step back and admire each of your works.

Satoru’s piece now has a mix of random scribbles and strange shapes, while Suguru’s work is meticulously detailed, with deep serene colored forming a landscape. Yours is a bright piece, a playful interpretation of the sky, with clouds hues of purple and pink—vibrant and dreamy.

You stare at the painting for a few minutes before turning to look at yourself… covered in paint. You frown.

“Well… this was a disaster” a smile tugs at your lips, “Although, I kinda fun one”

Satoru grins, throwing a playful wink your way.

“What can I say? I bring the fun wherever I go” he brags.

Suguru shakes his head but smiles quiestly, glancing at both of them with something akin to fondness in his eyes.

“Somehow we made it out. It was fun, though I kinda wished Shoko had been here” he sighs, “Would’ve helped me deal with you two”

You send him an offended look while Satoru simply grins widely. Suddenly, Satoru pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of the three pieces.

“Perfect!” He smiles, “This is going straight into my ‘masterpieces’ collection”

“It’s not masterpieces if it’s just an album of your selfies” you remind him, amused.

“Masterpieces, Y/N, masterpieces”

Holding back a laugh, you move to grab the videocamera recording the whole process, closing it so the screen goes black.

The recording ending.

taglist: @gumiiiiezzzz @reagan707

FOR SOME REASON TUMBLR ISNT ALLOWING ME TO LINK SOME OF MY PARTS. I’M SORRY

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 11 - The End

"How are they, Tess?"

"I've treated Roman's injuries and he's resting now. I've also given him antibiotics and painkillers, so he should be comfortable...as much as he can be, given the circumstances."

"As for Evelyn, I've done all I could for the moment, but we'll have to wait for the morning change before I can perform a full examination. Her wounds seem to be healing remarkably fast though."

"Is it because she's a werewolf?"

"Yes, although I do want to take a closer look at that bite, in case it's at risk of becoming infected. I admit I don't have any experience treating demon-inflicted wounds."

"They are prone to infection."

"I still can't wrap my head around the idea that anyone would do something like this! To their own child, no less!"

"It shocked me as well."

"You took such a risk in confronting her, Fiona! The inhabitants of the Hellplanes are not to be trifled with!"

"I'm aware of that, Dad. Would you rather I'd let Jacob and Evelyn go in there alone?"

"Of course not - what you did was very brave - but we can't help worrying. The whole thing could've gone so much worse."

"Well, it worked out fine, so you can let it go now."

It was Abby who brought the conversation back on track.

"Is Roman going to be all right?"

"Physically? Probably. He had a number of deep gashes that needed stitches, several broken bones including two ribs, a bruised lung, plus the...runes carved into his back, which will be uncomfortable for a while. Assuming there are no complications, these should heal in time."

"Mentally, it's a different matter. I'm not an expert, but I don't think the kind of trauma he's been through is something he'll be able to just shrug off. Speaking to therapist might help him."

"May we go in and see them?"

"You may, but just for a little while. Jacob is with Roman already; he hasn't left his bedside since I brought him back to the ward."

"Mr Stigfinnare is with his wife as well. He's been worried sick about her, prowling around the waiting room like a caged wolf."

"I'm surprised he didn't kick the door down."

"He might've done, if I hadn't let him in."

The trio - together with Ulf, who refused to be parted from Evelyn - gathered around Roman's bed.

Roman was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget, but he forced a smile on his face as he looked at each of the people who had risked their lives to save him.

In truth, he could hardly believe it.

"I don't know what to say. I owe you my life - no, more than my life. My soul. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough..."

"This is the second time I had to help save your ass, Turner! You'd better not make a habit out of it!"

Evelyn's cheerful tone helped defuse some of the tension, although Ulf kept his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. She was putting up a brave front, but he could tell she was hurting more than she was letting on. He hated it!

"It's over now."

"Maybe...maybe not."

"Fiona...? What do you mean?"

"The ritual circle carved into his back. The Nameless One may be have been banished, but those runes are magic. He's tied to the Hellplanes now."

"WHAT?!"

Roman sat up so fast that white stars burst before his eyes and his injuries flared painfully despite the medication keeping the worst of it at bay. He felt the cold panic rising like a tide.

"Are you saying it can come back?"

"Fuck. You're not, are you?"

"There are many doors between the planes, and things have a way of slipping through the cracks. That sigil is one such door; closed for the moment, but not locked."

"But you can remove it, right?! Or...render it inert, or something?"

"I...I'll do some research. Ask around."

Roman looked so crestfallen, Jacob's heart twinged in sympathy.

"Guys? Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Please try not to think about it, all right? If anything happens, my whole family are witches; they'll help. You need to focus on getting better."

Roman smiled humorlessly; it was hard not to think about the interdimensional door to Hell itself he carried around on his back, but he was so very tired. Sleep beckoned, demons or no demons.

But first, there was something he needed to say to Jacob.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to come to my rescue. Considering how things are between us..."

"Look, just because we broke up doesn't mean I don't still lo- care about you. Besides, I didn't actually do much, it was mostly Evelyn and Fiona."

"Still. Facing down demons and witches when you're just a regular person with no special powers took guts."

"I did have an axe."

Something happened then that Roman did not expect: he burst into laughter. Which hurt, but it was worth it, and his heart felt lighter for it.

"I think I'd like to sleep now..."

"Yes, you should. I'll be back to see you in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

As Roman sank into the cottonwool depths of drug-induced sleep, a smile fluttered on his lips.

The End!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!

[ferg0s]

hi,

Could I request a scenario where karasu gets a pink lock partner in a spandex suit? 😔

You already know he’s an annoying little shit about it. He likes to tease, get the low blow and bask in the glory of it afterwards. He likes knowing he can get in the other persons head, catch them off guard. He prefers to tear someone’s skills down, but he doesn’t shy away from physical attributes. After all, game is game.

And the frumpy uniforms was like a sitting duck.

“Oi, Cinderella-“ he smirked as he walked up next to you on the field. Water bottle in hand. “Fairy god mother hasn’t shown up yet?”

You roll your eyes and catch the bottle he threw your way, trying to ignore his comments as you gulped the water down. The stupid uniforms they had you in made you sweat like crazy, the thick material didn’t help either. And most importantly, they were ugly. Plain and simple, they were ugly. Frumpy, grey and old fashioned. They looked more like prison uniforms than soccer ones.

“I guess the clock struck midnight,” he mused as he wedged himself infront of you. Steeling the ball and giving you a quick glance, the gentle shove causing you to lose balance and stumble backwards. Cinderella; always in tattered clothes and covered in dirt. You hated it. And he knew you hated it, so he did his best to rub salt on the wound. “Missing a shoe?” He would chuckle as he stole the ball. “I think the ball is a only for pretty girls,” “I guess the rats were busy,”

Karasu learned pretty quickly that you weren’t one to fuck around on the field, you had insane spatial awareness, enough to rival the top guys at blue lock. Which made you hyper aware of how close he would be whenever you two were playing a 1 on 1. You blamed yourself for thinking that he would be a decent partner, figuring ego matched him up with you because you had similar traits - but you were dead wrong. It was like ego had thrown you in your own personalized level of hell.

Karasu was taller than you, and a bit more agile. By a fraction of a second if you wanted to get technical, but he was like a rat, using every little crevice to squeeze his way inside the game. Inside your head. The first time it happened you were stunned, soccer usually wasn’t a big contact sport - there being penalties for shoving or pushing. But he towed the like between accidental touch and deliberate shove. The shoves got under your skin. . Given his height compared to you, instead of hitting your chest it would hit you straight on the collar bone. The pain would linger on for hours after, sometimes making it hard for you to move your arms or neck. But technically, it wasn’t a foul. And you hated that. Technically. You grew up playing soccer by the books - very cut and clean, orthodox even. That’s what made you good, your moves were too flawless to counter. But that was also the problem, because even the purest of glass can be broken by the tiniest of stone.

Your goal slowly began to turn from being the best striker, to now finding a way to get your lick back. And just when all hope was lost..

“Good morning, diamonds in the rough,” egos voice called out in the girls dorms through the multiple speakers. “After a needlessly long wait, you can finally ditch those rags. Please go to the locker rooms and take the bag assigned to you-“

When you entered the field after putting on the official uniform, you had already prepared for the snarky comment that would be thrown your way. Probably something along the lines of; fairy god mother finally pulled through? You placed your bottle down and sat down to tie your cleats, your eyes darting when you heard a whistle. “I guess fairy god mothers do exist,” he chuckled as he walked up to you. Bingo! “Thought she’d get rid of the evil step mother too,” you quip back as you turn your attention back to the shoes. He chuckled, liking that you had started to bite back. “More like she’s found your price charming-“ “Funny, I remember the dog turning into the coachman, not the prince.” You had never been one to engage to trash talk, but god did it feel good to get the last word in with him.

The small 1 on 1 match began, despite the fact you two were supposed to work together, it seemed like the two of you were more focused on trying to score on eachother. With the total score being 0-0 for both of you, making you near the bottom of the teams. He wanted to establish some sort of dominance while you wanted to kick his teeth in for thinking that. Both of you fighting tooth and nail for the first goal, and to prevent the other from scoring.

“So Cindy,” he smirked as he wedged himself infornt of you. He was going to do it, you had been playing next to him long enough to know his moves. The god forsaken collarbone shove. Out of all his moves, you couldn’t find a counter to this one. It was your only weak spot, and he knew it. The difference in height making it impossible for you to dodge it, if you tried to duck you would be too slow and risk injuring your head. Injury wasn’t an option for you. If you went too low it would…

In that moment time seemed to stand still. You were going about this all wrong. You were trying to play chess with a man who was playing checkers with you all along. You had to get on his level to win at this own game, get down and dirty. Maybe the nickname he gave you would make sense in a way. You saw it coming, the shove, aimed directly at your collarbone.

He got in position, his arm moving towards you. He knew that in a second he’d feel your collarbone against his arm, his hand going to cup your shoulder for a second before he pushed off you and got a 3 second frame of confusion out of you. It was like muscle memory for him. In the time it took him to blink the whole ordeal would be over, but as soon as his eyes closed he prepared himself to feel your shoulder… your soft, squishy…

Wait.

His eyes darted open and he looked at you, the smirk on your face appearing as his left. His eyes followed his hand, seeing his hand over your boob. You had moved up instead of ducking his shove, catching him off guard. As a faint blush appeared on his face from the feeling of your literal boob in his hand, you used that to your advantage. He was still reeling from the feeling when you went and shot straight into the net.

“Aw cmon-“ you laugh as you approach him. “You’re acting like you’ve never touched a tit before-“ you tease, feeling the power you had over him in the moment. “Of course I have!” He replied, after defensively. “Okay Pinocchio-“ you scoff, walking to the side to get a drink.

He soon realized what you meant by that.

______

I admit, season 2 animation isn’t as bad as people made it seem to be

[animalistic0]

I Can’t Say Goodbye (Part 3)

Previous: Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5

Plot: With time ticking down and goodbyes never easy, what shall transpire? In the end, loyalty, revenge, and justice are all the Maybank twins know.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, Description of death, mourning, suicidal thoughts, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, funeral, angst, triggering, guilt, anger, five stages of grief, mentions of revenge, allusions to abuse. This is Depressing.

Word Count: 3.5k+

Note: Wisdom teeth surgery was a success, I don’t know how fast I’ll update from here on out though. Quick note on JC and Rafe; they are a slow burn, enemies to lovers. Next part we’ll see more of them and soft caring Rafe for sure. Also very unhinged JC. Would anyone want to read this if I made it a series and started in season 1? Hope you enjoy and take care!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not once has JC had a true crash out since the whole hunt for treasure started. She had gotten furious and depressed, but she had never completely lost her composure. Not even when she had joined JJ and his hurricane of a destruction after the town hall meeting. Now? Now the young girl felt everything bubbling to the surface. All the rage she tried to bury knowing it came from Luke, or now she wished it had come from the older male. Because if it didn’t then all this rage that was building and churning within her, was just her. All the hurt and suffering crashing into her like tsunami waves, that was her too. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Didn’t the Maybank twins suffer enough?

JC watched JJ fall to the ground, her whole world tumbling around her. Nothing registering until she heard Kiara telling JJ that he was gonna be okay. The moment JC registered those words she was falling to the ground next to her brother, her twin, her lifeline. She watched as Kiara pulled back his hands and her breath was sucked from her soul. Immediately she lunged forward applying a harsh amount of pressure to his bleeding wound. Tears streaming down her face as she stared daggers at it, praying that it would go away. Hastily apologies mumbled from her as she heard JJ moan out in pain.

JC didn’t listen to the words shared between Kiara and JJ, not that she could even make out what was said with all the blood rushing to her ears. She was more focused on trying to stop the blood, which covered her hands in moments. With shaking hands she ripped the scarf from around her head, bunching it up and pressing it down on her brother’s wound. Begging anything and anyone that it would work and they could save him. She looked up through blurry eyes when she felt a hand she’d never not recognize touch her cheek. A sob left her as soon as she met the eyes of her twin. “Don’t. Please don’t, Jay. Please!”

She knew that look, the look of defeat and acceptance and she hated it. She felt tears streaming down her face faster as she shook her head harder. She couldn’t lose him, she just couldn’t. He was her everything. How could she survive without him? “Please, Jay. Hold on. I can’t. I can’t make it without you, I’ve never not had you.” JC didn’t look at Kiara as she felt her friend take over applying pressure so she could hold him. Immediately her hands flung to JJ’s neck and cheeks, blood smearing on him. His own hands weakly holding hers. “It’s okay JC. It’s okay. I’m happy, and I’ve never been more found than now.”

“I can’t say goodbye…” Juniper’s voice cracked so bad as she brought her forehead to her twins. She couldn’t say goodbye to her best friend, her partner in crime, her confidant, her whole world. She couldn’t describe the pain that she was feeling, it was as if a part of her wasn’t just dying but being ripped from her. It was pure agony and she wished she was dying with him and not just feeling like it. “Then don’t. I love you, big sis. S-stay strong, be brave…I’ll always be with you.” JC shook her head only clutching her brother closer as she begged him to stay, to hold on, to live. “Please Jay, I need you little brother. I love you.”

There was no way to describe it. Juniper felt the moment JJ took his last breath, his body falling limp. She would never hear his laugh again, never see his smile, never hold his hand when she wanted or needed too, she would never have her twin again. As she heard Kiara scream for their friends, it was as if that same calmness that always graced her during dire situations washed over her. She wasn’t going to lose her little brother, her lifeline. Gently she moved him to the flat ground, ignoring Kiara and her screams. Kissing her brother’s forehead, JC took a breath before beginning chest compressions. The exact way she had been taught a few summers ago when JJ and her became lifeguard’s for a summer. The strength and endurance that she had due to the adrenaline, rage, and terror pumping through her was near superhuman.

She felt hands on her shoulders but shook them off, her eyes watching her brother’s face. She couldn’t stop, because as long as she was doing chest compressions he had a chance. A chance she needed him to have, because she was selfish and it was essential that she had him. JC couldn’t make it without him, for she had never had to make it without him. How could she live without her twin, without her other half?

If JC had known this was the outcome for the search of the crown she would have called it off. She would have fought tooth and nail for them to find another way, that or she would have murdered Groff the first time they ever met. She would have held JJ closer, harder, and longer every moment of every second. If she had known, JC would have pushed JJ out of the way and taken the knife for him without hesitation. She would trade her life for his in a heartbeat, JJ had always been the heart and life of everything. Now without him, it’s as if the world had grown dark and lifeless. If she had known the last hug she would have shared with him was at the bottom of the hill leading to the stone statue, she would have never let go. How could she let go?

Juniper was relentless in her attempt to keep her brother alive. Enough so that the group around her watched with sad and weary eyes. Each of them could see how close she was to the edge, and how once she accepted reality they would lose her. Pope and John B hesitantly reached out, trying gently to coax JC to stop. Both boys could tell that JJ was gone, that their best friend was dead, but they didn’t want to admit it. However, seeing their other best friend they knew they needed to be the rock for once, to be the strength because she needed them. If JJ was the heart and life of the Pogues, then JC was the rock and strength of them. Pope forced a sob down his throat as he laid his hand on JC’s who was relentlessly doing chest compressions. “He’s gone Juniper. He’s gone.”

The words hung in the air, JC heard them and registered them but she couldn’t accept it. Accepting it made it real, and she couldn’t deal with it being real. Shaking her head she didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. “I can’t. I need him. I need him.” Her words brought a fresh wave of tears to everyone present, even Rafe. Sarah held her stomach as she sobbed, JJ had saved her and her baby. She would never be able to repay that debt, to thank him enough, to call him her brother. She stared helplessly at JC wanting to help the distraught and breaking girl but she didn’t know how. Cleo stood rigid, tears silently streaming down her face as she watched her best friend fall apart. JJ had never failed to make her laugh or smile, never failed to keep her on her toes, or give her a run for being kleptomaniacs. She would never have her thief buddy back. Cleo hated having to watch her boyfriend and best friend break at the loss of JJ. Kiara was hugging herself so tight, loud sobs escaping her as she watched JC try and do anything and everything to save JJ. She loved him so much. JJ was her everything, and for him to die protecting her made her feel so guilty. She hated herself, and how she got her soulmate killed. Hated how JC her best friend had to witness it and feel it. Kiara had always marveled at the twins bond and how they felt each other. Kiara couldn’t imagine feeling the other half of yourself die.

Rafe didn’t move from his position in the doorway. Tears swarmed in his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t care or like JJ, but because the anger within him was so much stronger. He wasn’t the biggest fan of JJ, but he had to respect the Maybank for how protective and loyal he was to his people. To his sister. Rafe curled his hands into fist as he stared at JC and how she was clearly seconds away from falling off the cliff. Rafe knew she would never be the same again, and it crushed his whole soul. Rafe had spoken to her twice within the past day, both brief and beautiful moments, once while Sarah and John B decoded the map and right before he went to buy them more time. It had brought back everything he had felt for her during and after Singh, but he knew she would never be that girl again. No matter what though, he vowed to help her, to protect her, and to be there for her. Just as she had been there for him and her friends. Rafe owed JJ that, for saving Sarah and climbing the statue for him, but also because they both loved JC.

Pope kept his hand on JC’s, his eyes full of tears as they silently fell down his face. He was begging her to stop, because she was only hurting herself and JJ. Pope didn’t know what to do, he had never felt his heart break like it was in this moment. He almost wanted to help JC try and revive JJ because he couldn’t believe his best friend was dead. Everything they had been through together, everything they had said, and Pope never got to have a moment just to make sure they were good. Deep down he knew they were, JJ would never stay mad at him or turn him away. Pope found it unfair, everything about it. It was unfair the life JJ and JC lived, it was unfair that JJ fought as hard as he did and was still treated like dirt, it was unfair that they traded one shitty dad for a whole another level of shitty father. It was unfair that JJ was dead. Pope couldn’t hold back the sob in his throat as he met JC eyes. They were so lifeless and dark, empty of everything and it tore at Pope because she would never be the same again.

John B kept his hand on JC’s shoulder. Whispering soothing words to her, that he didn’t hear himself. His eyes solely focused on JJ’s face. John B wanted to scream, to beg, to punch the ground, to drag JJ back from the dead because he couldn’t be dead. His best friend, his brother, the man that was everything to him. John B didn’t know what to do, didn’t even feel like truly stopping JC because of the slight chance that it would work and JJ would wake up. However, as he turned to look at JC after he heard Pope sob he knew he needed to act. She was a mess and John B couldn’t blame her, but he would blame himself if he wasn’t there for her. JJ would blame him if he wasn’t there for her. Moving forward he wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her back into him. Holding her slightly tighter as she tried to escape.

JC stopped struggling after a few minutes, and instead leaned back into John B. Her breath was quick as she came down from her denial high. Her eyes glanced over the group, and each face she took in felt like a punch to the gut. Like a seal to the deal. He was dead. He was dead and he wasn’t coming back. Gently she pushed John B off of her and shuffled on her knees to JJ. Juniper let out a loud heartbreaking scream as she cradled JJ to her chest. Mumbling and babbling about how she needed him, and for him to not leave her. She buried her head in his neck and rocked back and forth as she clutched onto him like a life raft. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please come back. Come back little brother.”

Time moved fast, as if she wasn’t actually present within her body and perhaps she wasn’t. Before she knew it JJ was wrapped up and secured in cloths to protect his body. She didn’t know when they had moved her away from him long enough to do that, or was even aware that they were at a completely different location. Though the moment she had come too, JC had slipped her phone within her brother’s burial wrap, so she could find his body again and bring him home when they had the money and equipment. Even if she didn’t have the money, she’d still find a way to bring him home. She hated burying him out in the desert in Africa. Wanted to scream and beg her friends not to abandon him. JC didn’t know what to do though, by the time they would get his body back home it would be bad. Pope had already mentioned the scientific evidence on why it was safest to bury him here. JC disagreed science or not.

JJ would have liked to be buried with their mother, or in Poguelandia which was their first and true ever home. His one true fear was being alone, being abandoned by his family. Something JC also feared and yet here she was abandoning him. Leaving him. She hated herself, felt the guilt, anger, and pain chewing away at her. She had failed as an older sister, and only continued to fail. JC grasped his body in her lap never wanting to let him go, because she didn’t want it to be for the rest of her life. She knew once she let him go that she’d never be able to hold him. Ever again.

Rafe looked towards John B and Pope before he nodded, signaling that the grave was ready. Rafe didn’t really mind having to dig the grave, he could tell that the others didn’t have the strength to dig it and he felt like he owed JJ. Not to mention he wanted to try and make things easier for JC. He couldn’t imagine watching your family die, holding them, and then having to dig the grave. It threw everyone for a loop, when Rafe stepped forward and volunteered. The whole time he dug, Rafe thought of his last conversation with Groff. Using his grief and the grief of those around him to fuel his anger and need for revenge. Groff had fucked up. Messed with the wrong people, and Rafe couldn’t wait to reenact vengeance.

Together, JC, Pope, John B, and Kiara lifted JJ’s body. JC held his shoulders, supporting his head as she stared down at the cloth protecting his youthful face. JC paused at the beginning of the hole, her eyes finding Cleo and Sarah and silently nodding them over. They were Pogues and just as important to JJ as the others. Together the group gently lowered his body down into the sand, all of them reluctant to let go of him. It was silent but they were all crying as they stared at their best friend and the life of their crew. Cleo was the first to let go, a gentle kiss placed to where his arm was and a soft goodbye. Following her lead everyone kissed him one last time with heartfelt goodbyes. JC was the last, she was cradling his head and wanted to scream up at her friends to bury her here because this was where she died too. However, she didn’t. No, JC kissed his forehead and whispered how she would see him again. “I’ll bring you home Jay, I promise. You won’t be alone forever bug.”

Rafe and John B glanced at each other as JC didn’t make a moved to exit the hole. Silently both males moved forward, removing her out of the hole. John B immediately pulling her into his side so she wouldn’t attempt to jump back in, but also to offer support. Just as Pope appeared on her other side. The two males hugging her between them. Kiara came up behind JC and wrapped her arms around them all. Sarah and Cleo moved to the front, one hand holding their significant other and the other holding JC. Together the Pogues watched as Rafe sealed the grave up. Each of them leaning on one another for comfort and strength. JC was the first to break the silence as she let out a loud sob, and as if the flood gates opened for them all, they all loudly cried. Holding onto and grounding each other as they said goodbye to their best friend, their brother, their heart, their everything.

The moral of the group was broken, JJ had been that. Had been the one to keep them lively, and JC had been the one keeping them strong. But both twins were gone, JJ gone in all the ways and JC forever changed. She would never be the same again, none of them would ever be the same again. A part of them always gone and missing.

JC didn’t know who started the fire, she hadn’t been paying attention as she paced like a wild animal back an forth in front of the tree. She couldn’t sit still, didn’t want to sit still. Everything in her ached to get revenge, to get justice for JJ. At the same time everything ached for her to scream, to cry, to hit something, just anything so she would feel physical pain. Rafe sat in the back of the jeep before jumping down from it, as everyone else besides Pope stood or sat around the fire. Pope sat in the jeep, his head leaned back against the headrest as he stared up in the sky. JC thought it was so maybe he could catch a glimpse of their angel.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon. I don't know. If it was my friend, or b-brother, I'd probably go after the guy that just killed him. Yeah?” JC snapped her head up and glared at Rafe, his words only making her angrier and more bloodthirsty. His stutter around the word brother not going unnoticed but only worsening her mood. She almost shouted a thank you towards Pope as he spoke annoyance and tiredness oozing from him. “Shut up, Rafe.”

“He's not wrong. You think JJ would sit here if it were one of us? You think he'd do nothing?” Then Kiara spoke, and JC felt like screaming and yelling at them all to shut up. That they didn’t know him like she did, that he in fact wouldn’t want any of them to get hurt. She knew it was wrong, they knew him, they loved him, but there was something about losing someone you’ve never been without that none of them would ever understand. JC knew it was just her guilt, her anger, her despair talking but she couldn’t stop the thoughts or feelings. “We all know what JJ would do. He'd get even.” JC briefly paused at John B’s words. Biting her lip to prevent the scream that wanted to burst free. She hated it. All of it. He was right, and JC knew they needed to get even but every second that passed made it all feel too real. “Revenge.”

However, Kiara was right about revenge. Both Maybank siblings never allowed anything to hurt those they loved and not have any repercussions. JC would do whatever it took to take down Groff. Even if it meant she also died in the process. Something she could hear JJ already scolding her for even thinking about, even though they both were so similar like that. She would get the justice her baby brother deserved and she wouldn’t stop until she did.

She turned her head to see everyone looking at her and she stopped pacing. Her tears had dried a while ago and she didn’t think she had anymore to cry with how dehydrated and overwhelmed she was. Her eyes met each of those around her, and as she looked into Kiara’s, JB, and Pope, she saw the bloodlust, the willingness to do anything to revenge JJ. Her hands traveled up to her hair and she tugged it harshly as she moved closer to the fire. Kicking the ground and sending sand into the flames. She ignored the flinches from her friends, as she took a deep breath, her hands lowering to her sides and clenching into fists as she stared at the burning flames. JC looked like a mess, her hands dried and caked with her brother’s blood, as were her clothes, but it only added to her promise and her threat towards Groff. Her voice raspy and full of every dark emotion she was feeling.

“We get revenge and justice for JJ. By any and all means. Groff is a dead man walking.”

[crimsonxcloverr]

dale kobble x reader.

content warning: fluff, slightly annoyed dale, mental health issues/reader having a bad day, poor eating patterns, casual intimacy, mentions of blood from minor injury, playful banter.

word count: 2197

a/n: i tried to keep dale in character the best i could! we also deserve to be comforted by our favorite old man. enjoy!

TENDER LOVING CARE

ruth helps you up and tells you to go back inside as you sniffle. you wipe your tears with the back of your hand and let out a soft sob. you were already having a rough morning, it was just one of those days, but now your favorite jeans you thrifted were completely soaked and they were ripped on the knees. as you walk inside, dale can hear your sobs from downstairs.

“jesus christ,” he sighs running his fingers through his hair. “what now?” he hollers from the basement, his voice filled with a hint of annoyance.

there was no response which annoys him even more.

he was in a time crunch and needed to get this doll finished. he goes to get up and his annoyed demeanor softens as he sees the emotional state you’re in and your scuffed knees.

“oh, little angel,” he coos softly as he gets up and makes his way to you. he wraps his arms around you and squeezes the daylights out of you, your soft sobs muffled in his chest. “why don’t we go upstairs and get you cleaned up? hm? come on.”

he takes your hand in his and guides you up the basement steps, your knees throbbing and burning.

“take off your jeans so i can get a better look, my angel. i don’t wanna ruin your jeans any further,” he suggests while removing the clutter off the counter.

“it’s not like i’ll wear them after this,” you reply with attitude as you hop on the counter, dale completing ignoring you as he hums a tune while searching for some bandaids in the bathroom.

you knew he’d fix your jeans for you. you were just having a rough day.

you listen as he rummages through the medicine cabinet and comes back to the kitchen with some ointment and a couple of knee bandages.

“where’s the hydrogen peroxide?” you ask softly as he washes his hands, his back facing you.

he turns to face you again. “it’s not good for your skin. ruth told me. hold still so i can see,” he whispers.

his slender fingers delicately grip both of your legs, his eyes carefully looking for any gravel he needs to pick off before fixing you up. you can’t help but stare at him, your heart swelling at how attentive he is. you push the hair that’s dangling in his face behind his ears and you let out a soft chuckle as he looks at you from under his brows.

“no pesky stones, but i need to clean you up,” he says softly, grabbing a few paper towels and saturating them in soap and water. “might burn so hold still…”

he carefully pats your tender skin as you sit there sucking air between your teeth trying to deal with the stinging sensation. you grip his robe and he can’t help but smile. he continues to wipe up the dry blood and the plasma that oozes from your scrapes.

“i know, i know, baby, just relax,” he tells you, his voice soft and caring. he pats you dry and applies some ointment to his finger, gently rubbing it on the now clean wounds. “see? wasn’t too bad?”

you sit there silently for a second looking down at your knees, your fingers pressing the bandaids gently to make sure they were on securely. as dale cleaned up the mess and put things back the way they were, you make your way to the basement. you didn’t even bother putting pants back on, you just wanted to lay down at this point. you pull the blankets back off the mattress and lay down, pulling the blankets back over your head. you close your eyes and try to take a nap but you can’t help but feel dale’s eyes burning through you. a smile forms on your face as you hear his slippers dragging across the floor, his weight shifting the mattress a little.

“what?” you ask trying to hide the smile on your face, trying to keep him from pulling the blankets off you.

“oh come on, stop acting like a little brat,” he chuckles, moving the blankets off you, his body weight pressing you into the mattress.

he lays there on top of you, your face cradled in his hands. he lets out a soft hum and stares at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“my poor angel, having such a rough day,” he sighs softly before kissing your nose. he really needed to get that damn doll done, but he knows you’re having a rough day. “anything i can do to help?” he watches you give him a shrug, your smile fading. “hm… how about we do something? we can… listen to music? or we can just lay here and talk?”

“no. i’m fine.” you roll over and he frowns. “i don’t wanna do anything today.”

“not even go thrifting? or out for lunch?” he smirks trying to persuade you into getting up and moving around. “have you eaten anything today?” he kisses your cheek gently.

“i’m not hungry,” you mumble into the blanket. “besides, don’t you have the doll to finish?”

“yes, but that can wait.”

you both knew he’d regret it later, but his main concern was you.

“i’m gonna go run you a nice warm bath then i’ll make us both lunch and some hot coco, with those marshmallows you like, hm? how’s that?” he whispers in your ear before giving your cheek another soft kiss.

“okay,” you chuckle as you finally give in.

moments pass and you’re brushing your hair in the bathroom as dale sits on the ledge of the tub checking the temperature of the water. he looks up at you and sighs noticing you’re spacing out. his heart aches for you, wanting nothing more than to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

“you ready? i’ll turn away if you need,” he says softly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable knowing you’re in a vulnerable state.

“no, it’s okay,” you sigh really not wanting to do anything but to lay down. it all felt like a chore.

dale notices your behavior and sits on the lid of the toilet, his hands gently undressing you and making sure not to accidentally bump your scrapes. he tosses your dirty clothes in the hamper and watches you carefully lower yourself in the warm bubble bath.

“mm,” you hum softly, the warm water soothing you already.

“perfect?” dale asks as he lowers himself next to you outside the tub. he smiles when you nod and he grabs an old plastic cup nearby. “put your head back, baby. let me take care of you.”

you do as he says and he begins to wash your hair, his slender fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp. he chuckles at your reaction, loving the way you’re practically falling asleep to his touch. he rinses your hair and continues to pamper you, your body exhausted from all the emotional stress. he moves onto washing your body carefully, trying his best to help you relax. he rinses you off once more and sets the cup down.

“i’m gonna go get towels, you finish washing up,” he says softly while standing. “i’ll be right back.”

you finish up and stand there, dale appearing in the bathroom with fresh towels. he holds one out for you and you get out, dale so kindly wrapping it around you.

“you want this one for your hair?” he asks. he acknowledges your answer with a nod when you shake your head no. “let’s get you dressed.”

he pulls out a pair of underwear from your pile of clothes and grabs a teal t-shirt from his drawer. he hands you the clothes and cups your face in his hands when he sees tears in your eyes.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers softly brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “you’re gonna be okay, alright? i’m here, ruth is here too, you’re safe. it’ll be okay, my little angel. okay?” he gives you a few gentle kisses on the lips and pulls away. “i’m gonna make us some lunch and then get that hot coco started. why don’t you get dressed then pick out some music?”

you nod and sniffle, wiping your tears and watch as he goes upstairs to tend to lunch and the hot chocolate. you get dressed and flip through some of his albums after brushing your hair. you don’t find anything assuming at the moment so you just turn on his stereo, the station you picked playing some classic rock. after a while dale comes down with two plates of food, a smile on your face when you noticed what he made you.

“it’s your favorite,” he smiles. “go on, sit, sit.”

“okay, okay,” you laugh as you sit down on the mattress, dale leaning over to put the plates down. “wait!” you grab his wrist to keep him from going upstairs. “thank you.”

“oh, it’s not a problem. you know that.”

he ruffles your hair playfully and descends back upstairs. he comes down and plops down in front of you, opening your can of soda. he takes a sip and you let out a scoff while grabbing your can.

“sorry, had to see if it was poisoned,” he teases.

“let me check yours then, you jerk,” you laugh loudly as you lean over and grab his, dale quickly snatching it back.

“nope, sorry. you have your own,” he chuckles at the banter between you both. he leans forward and gives you a few smooches. “eat,” he whispers against your lips, his tone authoritative.

you can’t help but smile at him and the way he’s so protective over you. you start chowing down, dale watching you as he eats his own meal. it was the first thing you had all day so it was quite nice.

“i worry about you, you know that? you need to start taking care of yourself, and im not kidding,” his voice was filled with seriousness.

“yes, i know,” you sigh. “it’s just one of those days and i don’t know why, i just-“

“it’s okay not to know why, baby, but that doesn’t mean you need to be mean to yourself.” he grabs your hand and kisses it. “i love you, little angel. promise me you’ll be nicer to yourself.”

the seriousness in his voice and the look in his eye makes you melt. this man loved you to pieces and just wanted to take care of you.

“okay, i promise,” you say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “but you need to promise me the same. i’m tired of seeing you drained because of these damn dolls.”

“okay, deal. but i do need to finish it,” he chuckles as he finishes his meal. “done?” he asks when he sees your nearly finished.

“mhmhmm, i don’t want this.” you hand him the last piece of your food and he looks at you as you feed him.

“mmm, yummy,” he teases and gives you a wink.

after sipping hot chocolate and talking for a little bit on how you were feeling, dale gives you some space to journal and relax as he finishes his doll. you look up at him, his back and broad shoulders facing you. he was so kind and gentle with you today, it definitely helped you. you get up and set your journal aside, quietly walking up behind him. dale was focusing intently on his work until your hands covered his eyes, the sudden action catching him by surprise. he lets out a small huff and a chuckle when he realizes you’re being silly.

“now what do you think you’re doing back there, little angel?” he placed his paint brush down and grabs your wrists to pull your hands away. “so nosy, you just couldn’t let me work in peace?”

“nope,” you giggle adding to the playful banter as he pulls you onto his lap, his large arms wrapping around you.

“mmm,” he smiles, squeezing you tightly in a jokingly manner, causing you to grunt softly. “my sweet angel, all mine…”

“mmfp, okay,” you laugh trying to escape his grasp. he loosens up and looks at you as you sit there straddling him. “thank you for taking care of me today. i appreciate it.”

“oh, baby… you’re absolutely welcome,” he whispers rubbing the small of your back. “everyone needs a little tlc, right?”

“maybe one day i can pamper you?” you suggest, dale’s brows going up with a smirk. “i’m being serious, kobble,” you laugh and nudge him.

“i know, im just picking.” his smirk fades and he lets out a sigh. “i really do need to get this done.”

“okay, so finish it, no one’s stopping you.” your tone was filled with sass and dale couldn’t help but shake his head at how much of a handful you were being.

“alright,” he sighs pushing the chair in with you still on his lap. “you needy little thing.”

you sit there with a satisfied expression while playing with his hair, dale working diligently on his doll the best he could.

[hdusa]

so how is ls!zams eye doing currently... was wemmbu right about him wearing two eyepatches at some point

the eye that’s covered is perfectly fine, it’s covered by preference. The other side of my face is just covered in scratches. They're a bit more minor compared to the scar and will eventually fade away, but probably will find a way to return.

[hello-galad]